I was so far from the statue that I could not distinguish its attitude and could only guess at its height, which seemed to be about six feet. At that moment two young scamps from the town walked across the tennis-court, quite near the hedge, whistling the pretty Roussillon air, _Montagnes Régalades_. They stopped to look at the statue, and one of them apostrophised it in a loud voice. He spoke Catalan; but I had been long enough in Roussillon to understand pretty nearly what he said. “So there you are, hussy! (The Catalan term was much more forcible.) So there you are!” he said. “So it was you who broke Jean Coll’s leg! If you belonged to me, I’d break your neck!” “Bah! with what?” said the other. “She’s made of copper, and it’s so hard that Étienne broke his file, trying to file it. It’s copper of the heathen times, and it’s harder than I don’t know what.” “If I had my cold-chisel”--it seemed that he was a locksmith’s apprentice--“I’d soon dig out her big white eyes, as easy as I’d take an almond out of its shell. They’d make more than a hundred sous in silver.” They walked away a few steps. “I must bid the idol good-night,” said the taller of the two, suddenly stopping again. He stooped, and, I suppose, picked up a stone. I saw him raise his arm and throw something, and instantly there was a ringing blow on the bronze. At the same moment the apprentice put his hand to his head, with a sharp cry of pain. “She threw it back at me!” he exclaimed. And my two rascals fled at the top of their speed. It was evident that the stone had rebounded from the metal, and had punished the fellow for his affront to the goddess. I closed my window, laughing heartily. “Still another vandal chastised by Venus!” I thought. “May all the destroyers of our ancient monuments have their heads broken thus!” And with that charitable prayer, I fell asleep. It was broad daylight when I woke. Beside my bed were, on one side, M. de Peyrehorade in his _robe-de-chambre_; on the other a servant, sent by his wife, with a cup of chocolate in his hand. “Come, up with you, Parisian! This is just like you sluggards from the capital!” said my host, while I hastily dressed myself. “It is eight o’clock, and you are still in bed! I have been up since six. This is the third time I have come upstairs; I came to your door on tiptoe; not a sound, not a sign of life. It will injure you to sleep too much at your age. And you haven’t seen my Venus yet! Come, drink this cup of Barcelona chocolate quickly. Genuine contraband, such chocolate as you don’t get in Paris. You must lay up some strength, for, when you once stand in front of my Venus, I shall not be able to tear you away from her.” In five minutes I was ready--that is to say, half shaved, my clothes half buttoned, and my throat scalded by the chocolate, which I had swallowed boiling hot. I went down into the garden and found myself before a really beautiful statue.