Such were the thoughts with which Kenyon exaggerated to himself the
importance of the newly discovered statue, and strove to feel at least
a portion of the interest which this event would have inspired in him a
little while before. But, in reality, he found it difficult to fix
his mind upon the subject. He could hardly, we fear, be reckoned a
consummate artist, because there was something dearer to him than his
art; and, by the greater strength of a human affection, the divine
statue seemed to fall asunder again, and become only a heap of worthless
fragments.
While the sculptor sat listlessly gazing at it, there was a sound of
small hoofs, clumsily galloping on the Campagna; and soon his frisky
acquaintance, the buffalo-calf, came and peeped over the edge of the
excavation. Almost at the same moment he heard voices, which approached
nearer and nearer; a man's voice, and a feminine one, talking the
musical tongue of Italy. Besides the hairy visage of his four footed
friend, Kenyon now saw the figures of a peasant and a contadina, making
gestures of salutation to him, on the opposite verge of the hollow
space.