answer to the surveyor's riddle. She stood with her eyes fixed on the Juno, who had been removed from her pedestal and lay stretched in her magnificent length upon a rude litter.
"Do you understand?" she said. "She's beautiful, she's noble, she's precious, but she must go back!" And, with a passionate gesture, she seemed to indicate an open grave.
I was hugely delighted, but I thought it discreet to stroke my chin and look sober. "She's worth fifty thousand scudi."
She shook her head sadly. "If we were to sell her to the Pope and give the money to the poor, it would n't profit us. She must go back,—she must go back! We must smother her beauty in the dreadful earth. It makes me feel almost as if she were alive; but it came to me last night with overwhelming force, when my husband came in and refused to see me, that he 'll not be himself as long as she is above ground. To cut the knot we must bury her! If I had only thought of it before!"
"Not before!" I said, shaking my head in turn. "Heaven reward our sacrifice now!"
The little surveyor, when he reappeared, seemed hardly like an agent of the celestial influences, but he was deft and active, which was more to the point. Every now and then he uttered some half-articulate
