'This Latin is a terrible language with its conciseness,' observed
I, not wishing to contradict more directly the good antiquary; and I
stepped back a few paces, that I might have a better view of the statue.
'One moment, colleague!' said Monsieur Peyrade, seizing my arm; 'you
have not yet seen all. There is another inscription. Get upon the
pedestal, and look at the right arm.'
So saying, he assisted me in climbing up. I put my arm without much
ceremony around the neck of the Venus, with whom I began to be on
familiar terms. I gazed at her a moment face to face, and found her
on a close survey to be still more wicked-looking, and still more
beautiful. I then noticed some small characters, apparently of an
ancient date, engraven upon the arm. With some difficulty, and by the
aid of a magnifying-glass, I spelled as follows; Monsieur Peyrade
repeating after me each word as I pronounced it, with strong emphasis
and gesticulation:
VENERI TVRBVL * * * *
EVTYCHES MYRO
IMPERIO FECIT
After the word TVRBVL of the first line, there appeared to be
some letters effaced; but TVRBVL was perfectly legible.
'And what does that mean?' asked my host, chuckling, and smiling
maliciously; for he rightly thought that I would not be able to make
out this TVRBVL.
'There is one word here that I cannot yet explain,' said I; 'all the
rest is easy enough. Eutyches Myron has made this offering to Venus, by
her command.'
'Very well. But TVRBVL; what do you make of that? What does
TVRBVL mean?'
'Why, TVRBVL puzzles me a good deal; I am trying to recollect
some of the appellations of Venus to aid me. Let me see; what do
you say to TVRBVLENTA? Venus who troubles, who disturbs?
You see I am constantly impressed with her wicked expression.
TVRBVLENTA; this is not a bad epithet for Venus;' added I,
with an air of deference, for I was not myself very well satisfied with
this explanation.
'The turbulent Venus! Venus the virago! Ah! you think then that my
Venus is a Venus of the ale-houses. By no means, Sir; she is a Venus of
good society. But I am going to explain to you this TVRBVL.
You must, however, promise not to divulge my discovery before my memoir
is published; because you must know that I take some little credit to
myself for this investigation. It is but fair that you gentlemen savans
of Paris, who are so rich in the spoils of antiquity, should leave a
few ears to be gleaned by us poor devils of the provinces.'
From the top of the pedestal, on which I still remained perched, I
solemnly promised him that I would never be so base as to steal his
discovery.
'For TVRBVL. . . ., Sir,' said he, coming close to me, and
lowering his voice for fear any one else should hear him, 'read
TVRBVLNERÆ.'