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Then, viewing the Locri Faun at Nepenthe in the presence of Count Caloveglia, he made rather a subtle remark. "Does it not strike you, Count, that there is a curious, an evasive kind of resemblance between this Faun and the Demeter?" The old man beamed with joy at these words. "My dear Sir Herbert, allow me to congratulate you on your keen artistic perception!
You will extract pleasure from that statuette. And I will extract pleasure from your company. Obvious sources of pleasure, aren't they, Keith?" It was Count Caloveglia. He was referring to the Locri Faun, a wonderful antique which had recently been found on his property near the town of that name on the neighbouring mainland, and was about to be secretly smuggled out of Italy.
The labour of a lifetime would not have enabled him to collect so much had he tried to sell bronzes of his own workmanship. A bust or statue by Count Caloveglia it would command a certain small price, no doubt; but what was the reputation, the market value, of the most eminent modern artist as compared with that nameless but consummate craftsman of Locri?
Lowering his hand he felt an intermittent stream of hot air rising out of the ground, feeble as the breath of a dying man. Still some mysterious gusts of life down there, he concluded, in the dark earth. How curious that volcanic connection with the mainland, of which Count Caloveglia had spoken!
It would make men of you." Mr. Keith was considerably denser than Count Caloveglia. But even he, during this oration, could not help noticing that it jarred on his listener's nerves; there was something wrong, he concluded. Denis had not a word to say in reply. As if anyone could be more suffering than himself! He was full of a dumb ache. He marvelled at Keith's obtuseness.
The spectacle seems to have been providentially arranged, as a sort of BONNE BOUCHE, for my last evening on the island. Dear me. Now there are two again. And now they are behind each other once more. A kind of celestial hide and seek. Most interesting. I wish Keith could see it. Or that dear Count Caloveglia. He would be sure to say something polite. . . . The inconstant moon!
"So you were born out of time and out of place, like many of us," laughed the Bishop. Count Caloveglia said: "It is an academic problem, and therefore a problem which does not exist for me, and therefore a problem dear to your own metaphysical heart, to enquire whether a man is ever born at an inopportune moment. We use the phrase. If we took thought we would discard it.
A very up-to-date nomad, who takes the whole world for his camping-ground. No, not yet. But he'll turn up in a day or two." Count Caloveglia was concerned, just then, about Mr. van Koppen. He had a little business to transact with him he fervently hoped that the millionaire would not forgo his annual visit to Nepenthe. "I shall be glad to meet him again," he remarked carelessly.
It was a considerable sum; so considerable that Caloveglia had displayed great hesitation in accepting it. But the millionaire pointed out that the parties must be guided by Sir Herbert's opinion. What was the good, he asked, of employing a specialist? Sir Herbert Street had declared the bronze to be priceless, unique.
Count Caloveglia was probably the only male person on earth to whom the owner of the FLUTTERBY would have extended such an invitation. "My dear friend!" replied the other. "I shall never be able to repay your kindness, as it is. Alas, it cannot be done, not now. And don't you think," he went on, reverting to his theme, "that we might revive a few of those forgotten recipes of the past?
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