She had depicted "Evening" as a beautiful nude female figure in the act of stepping forward on tip-toe; the eyes were half closed, and the sweet mouth slightly parted in a dreamily serious smile.

The right forefinger was laid lightly on the lips, as though suggesting silence; and in the left hand was loosely clasped a bunch of poppies.

That was all.

But the poetry and force of the whole conception as carried out in the statue was marvellous.
"Do you like it ?" asked Zara, half timidly.
"Like it!" I exclaimed.

"It is lovely--wonderful! It is worthy to rank with the finest Italian masterpieces." "Oh, no!" remonstrated Zara; "no, indeed! When the great Italian sculptors lived and worked--ah! one may say with the Scriptures, 'There were giants in those days.' Giants--veritable ones; and we modernists are the pigmies.