The soul of shapes breathes in the profound life of this thrilling body. I see her magnificent armature of bones as I see her thoughts—all her grace hidden and present, how powerfully organized! In this form sweet as honey, where the eye surprises neither blacks nor violent lights, but where life flows without jerks or starts, clear as live water, one feels keenly the resistance of a resolute and powerful frame! Supported by these bases that will not weaken, sure of their solidity, the flesh bounds with joy as if it would escape the redoubled shadows deepening under the breasts, that they may rise from the torso, whence glowing light would seem to emanate. And the high adorable face gives to every one gracious welcome of life. The shadows, the divine play of shadows on antique marbles! One might say that shadows love masterpieces. They hang upon them, they make for them adornment. I find only among the Gothics and with Rembrandt such orchestras of shadows. They surround beauty with mystery; they pour peace over us, and allow us to hear without trouble that eloquence of the flesh that ripens and amplifies the spirit. That eloquence darts on us the truth, diffuse as light. It is the radiancy of gladness. What secret emotion invades me before the meditated grace of this design! Ineffable passages of light into shadow! Inexpressible splendours of half tones! Nests of love! What marvels that have not yet a name in this sacred body! Venus Genetrix! Venus Victorum! O, total glory of grace and of genius! [Illustration] Admiration overtakes me like sleep. The Venus of Melos is reflected by all the others: in them is accentuated one or another of her infinite beauties. In this one, free of all draperies, the modelling of the shadows makes the flesh breathe even more voluptuously; that thigh, column of life, is literally quivering. In this other, the light and shade of the belly and of the legs produce a kind of fluctuation where passes all of love; all its intoxication and then its appeasement. The upper part of the body inclines in a gesture of reverence; movement how gracious! Where the Gothic and the Renaissance find their symbol. And again this one, what instinct bends it into an arc of grace! A single curve made of all those, of the shoulders, of the legs, of the thighs, designs the kneeling Venus. I possess a little masterpiece, which long baffled all the habits of my eyes and of my mind, all my understanding. I have vowed to it deep gratitude, for it has made me think a great deal. This figure belongs to the epoch of the Venus of Melos. It gives me the same sensation of modelling, powerful and abundant; it has the same ease in the grandeur of its forms, although they are materially of reduced proportions. What calm intoxication it breathes and inspires, or, rather, what luxury of pleasure!