Lycinus Well, look; she is at work already. Observe her procedure. She begins with our Cnidian importation, from which she takes only the head; with the rest she is not concerned, as the statue is nude. The hair, the forehead, the exquisite eyebrows, she will keep as Praxiteles has rendered them; the eyes, too, those soft, yet bright-glancing eyes, she leaves unaltered,
But the cheeks and the front of the face are taken from the ‘Garden’ Goddess; and so are the lines of the hands, the shapely wrists, the delicately-tapering fingers. Phidias and the Lemnian Athene will give the outline of the face, and the well-proportioned nose, and lend new softness to the cheeks; and the same artist may shape her neck and closed lips, to resemble those of his Amazon. Calamis adorns her with Sosandra’s modesty, Sosandra’s grave half-smile; the decent seemly dress is Sosandra’s too, save that the head must not be veiled. For her stature, let it be that of Cnidian Aphrodite; once more we have recourse to Praxiteles.—What think you, Polystratus? Is it a lovely portrait?

 Polystratus Assuredly it will be, when it is perfected. At present, my paragon of sculptors, one element of loveliness has escaped your comprehensive grasp. Lycinus What is that? Polystratus A most important one. You will agree with me that colour and tone have a good deal to do with beauty? that black should be black, white be white, and red play its blushing part? It looks tome as if the most important thing of all were still lacking. Lycinus Well, how shall we manage? Call in the painters, perhaps, selecting those who were noted for their skill in mixing and laying on their colours? Be it so: we will have Polygnotus, Euphranor of course, Apelles and Aétion; they can.

 

“divide the work between them. Euphranor shall colour the hair like his Hera’s; Polygnotus the comely brow and faintly blushing cheek, after his Cassandra in the Assembly-room at Delphi. Polygnotus shall also paint her robe,—of the finest texture, part duly gathered in, but most of it floating in the breeze. For the flesh-tints, which must be neither too pale nor too high-coloured, Apelles shall copy his own Campaspe.

 And lastly, Aétion shall give her Roxana’s lips, Nay, we can do better: have we not. Homer, best of painters, though a Euphranor and an Apelles be present? Let him colour all like the limbs of Menelaus, which he says were ‘ivory tinged with red.’ He too shall paint her calm ‘ox-eyes,’ and the Theban poet shall help him to give them their ‘violet’ hue. Homer shall add her smile, her white arms, her rosy finger-tips, and so complete the resemblance to golden Aphrodite, to whom he has compared Brises’ daughter with far less reason. So far we may trust our sculptors and painters and poets: but for her crowning glory, for the grace—nay, the choir of Graces and Loves that encircle her—who shall portray them? Polystratus This was no earthly vision, Lycinus; surely she must have dropped from the clouds.—And what was she doing? Lycinus In her hands was an open scroll; half read (so I surmised) and half to be read. As she passed, she was making some remark to one of her company; what it was I did not catch. But when she smiled, ah! then, Polystratus, I beheld teeth whose whiteness, whose unbroken regularity, who shall describe? Imagine a lovely necklace of gleaming pearls, all of a size; and imagine those dazzling rows set off by ruby lips. In that glimpse, I realized what Homer meant by his ‘carven ivory.” Other women’s teeth differ in size; or they project; or there are gaps: here, all was equality and evenness; pearl joined to pearl in unbroken line. Oh, ’twas a wondrous sight, of beauty more than human.

 

 Polystratus Stay. I know now whom you mean, as well from your description as from her nationality. You said that there were eunuchs in her train? Lycinus Yes; and soldiers too. Polystratus My simple friend, the lady you have been describing is a celebrity, and possesses the affections of an Emperor. Lycinus And her name? Polystratus Adds one more to the list of her charms; for it is the same as that of Abradatas’s wife. See Panthea in Notes. You know Xenophon’s enthusiastic account of that beautiful and virtuous woman?—And you have read it a dozen times. Lycinus Yes; and every time I read it, it is as if she stood before me. I almost hear her uttering the words the historian has put into her mouth, and see her arming her husband and sending him forth to battle.