It awoke dying but delightful memories of the pagan capital--splendors of form and color, glowing eyes and pretty frolic.
"O Venus, mother of love!" he whispered, turning to admire a statue in the dim-lit corner where he stood.

Now the eyes of Venus were covered with an arm.

Out went his hand to feel the shapely marble.

It was warm, and slowly Venus began to move, as did the strains of music, and, presently, whirled away.
"How beautiful!" he said.

"'Tis the magic of a dream." His eyes were upon the form of Venus, taller than the others and more nobly fashioned.
"'Tis the great goddess come to earth," said he, turning to Lugar.
The music had ceased.