d a more graceful and lighter beauty to his statue, but he
felt within himself the promptings of a spirit that grew with each new
suggestion of its own. Efforts that before had seemed above him he now
essayed boldly; difficulties that once had appeared insurmountable he
now encountered with courageous daring. Thus striving, he lost all sense
of fatigue. Hunger and exhaustion were alike unremembered, and it was
already late in the afternoon, as, overcome by continued toil, he threw
himself heavily down, and sank off into a deep sleep.

It was nigh sunset as he awoke. The distant bell of a monastery was
ringing the hour of evening prayer, the solemn chime of the "Venti
quattro," as he leaned on his arm and gazed in astonishment around
him. The whole seemed like a dream. On every side were objects new and
strange to, his eyes,--casts and models he had never seen before busts
and statues and studies all unknown to him. At last his eyes rested
on the Faun, and he remembered at once where he was. The languor of
excessive fatigue, however, still oppressed him, and he was about to lie
back again in sleep, when, bending gently over him, a young girl, with a
low, soft accent, asked if he felt ill, or only tired.

Massy gazed, without speaking, at features regular as the most classic
model, and whose paleness almost gave them the calm beauty of the
marble. His steady stare slightly colored her cheek, and made her voice
falter a little as she repeated her question.

"I scarcely know," said he, sighing heavily. "I feel as though this were
a dream, and I am afraid to awaken from it."

"Let me give you some wine," said she, bending down to hand him the
glass; "you have over-fatigued yourself. The Faun is by your hand, is it
not?"

He nodded a slow assent.

"Whence did you derive that knowledge of ancient art?" said she,
eagerly. "Your figure has the light elasticity of the classic models,
and yet nothing strained or exaggerated in attitude. Have you studied at
Rome?"

"I could do better now," said the youth, as, rising on his elbow, he
strained his eyes to examine her. "I could achieve a real success."

A deep flush covered her face at these words, so palpably alluding to
herself, and she tried to repeat her question.

"No," said he, "I cannot say I have ever studied: all that I have done
is full of faults; but I feel the spring of better things within me.
Tell me, is this _your_ home?"

"Yes," said she, smiling faintly. "