it from Paris in the Empire days?

Mr. Carlyon sat down and prepared himself for the solemn moment when the
Goddess should be unveiled.

And when the reverent little priestess had removed the folds from the
face as it lay upon the table, he started and held his breath, for he
instantly realized that indeed this was the work of some glorious old
Greek sculptor; none other could have created that perfect head.

And as he looked, the child slipped her hand into his and whispered
softly:

"Watch her eyes; she is tender to-day and welcomes us. I was not quite
sure how she would receive you."

And lo! it seemed to Mr. Carlyon as though the divine orbs softened into
a smile, such was the art of those old Greeks, who marred not the marble
with pupil or iris, who stooped to no trick of simulation, but left the
perfect modeling to speak for itself.

The eyes of this Aphrodite conveyed volumes of love, with her nobly
planned brows and temples and her softly smooth cheeks. The slight break
of the nose even did not seem to spoil the perfect beauty of the whole.
Her mouth, tender and rather full, seemed to smile a welcome, and the
patine, unspoiled by any casts having ever been taken, gleamed as the
finest of skin. It was in a wonderful state of preservation and not
darkened to more than a soft cream color.

So there she lay at last! Goddess of Love still for all time. The head