ng in his
mother-tongue, placing his hand upon his heart. I could have sworn that
it meant, "Of course I would not be so rude as to win when playing with
a lady." I thought so, principally because he was a man, for I never
knew a man under such circumstances who did not immediately betray his
self-conceit by making that gallant declaration. Feeling sure that the
Russian had done so, when we placed the pieces on the board again I
offered him my queen. He seemed astounded and hurt; and then for the
first time I thought that if this Russian were an exception to his sex,
and I had _not_ understood his remark, then it was a rudeness to offer
him my queen. I was fortunately relieved from my perplexing situation
by the approach of my cavalier, and as he led me away I gave my other
hand to my antagonist in the most impressive manner, by way of atonement
in case there _had_ been anything wrong in my conduct toward him.

One day during the latter part of my stay in Florence I went the second
time to the splendid studio of Mr. Powers. He talked very eloquently
upon art. He said that some of the classic statues had become famous,
and deservedly so, although they were sometimes false in proportion and
disposed in attitudes quite impossible in nature. He illustrated this by
a fine plaster cast of the Venus of Milo, before which we were standing.
He showed that the spinal cord in the neck could never, from the
position of the head, have joined that of the body, that there was a
radical fault in the termination of the spinal column, and that the
navel was located falsely with respect to height. As he proceeded he
convinced me that he was correct; and in defence of this, my most
cherished idol after the Apollo Belvedere, I only asked the iconoclast
whether these defects might not have been intentional, in order to make
the statue appear more natural when looked at in its elevated position
from below. I subsequently repeated Mr. Powers's criticism of the Venus
of Milo in the studio of another of our distinguished sculptors, and he
treated it with great levity, especially when I told him my authority.
There is a spirit of rivalry among sculptors which does not always
manifest itself in that courteous and well-bred manner which
distinguishes the medical faculty, for instance, in their dealings with
each other. This courtesy is well illustrated by an anecdote I have
recently heard. A gentleman fell down in a fit, and a physician entering
sa