music whose charms Monsieur Jean-Jacques Rousseau had extolled so
eloquently at one of Baron d'Holbach's evening parties. The young
sculptor's senses were lubricated, so to speak, by Jomelli's
harmonious strains. The languorous peculiarities of those skilfully
blended Italian voices plunged him in an ecstasy of delight. He sat
there, mute and motionless, not even conscious of the crowding of the
two priests. His soul poured out through his ears and his eyes. He
seemed to be listening with every one of his pores. Suddenly a
whirlwind of applause greeted the appearance of the prima donna. She
came forward coquettishly to the footlights and curtsied to the
audience with infinite grace. The brilliant light, the enthusiasm of a
vast multitude, the illusion of the stage, the glamour of a costume
which was most attractive for the time, all conspired in that woman's
favor. Sarrasine cried aloud with pleasure. He saw before him at that
moment the ideal beauty whose perfections he had hitherto sought here
and there in nature, taking from one model, often of humble rank, the
rounded outline of a shapely leg, from another the contour of the
breast; from another her white shoulders; stealing the neck of that
young girl, the hands of this woman, and the polished knees of yonder
child, but never able to find beneath the cold skies of Paris the rich
and satisfying creations of ancient Greece. La Zambinella displayed in
her single person, intensely alive and delicate beyond words, all
those exquisite proportions of the female form which he had so
ardently longed to behold, and of which a sculptor is the most severe
and at the same time the most passionate judge. She had an expressive
mouth, eyes instinct with love, flesh of dazzling whiteness. And add
to these details, which would have filled a painter's soul with
rapture, all the marvelous charms of the Venuses worshiped and copied
by the chisel of the Greeks. The artist did not tire of admiring the
inimitable grace with which the arms were attached to the body, the