This exclamation was caused by the sight which the architect had invited the prefect to come and enjoy, and which was certainly droll enough.  The front of the gate-keeper’s house was quite grown over with ivy which framed the door and window in its long runners.  Amidst the greenery hung numbers of cages with starlings, blackbirds, and smaller singing-birds.  The wide door of the little house stood open, giving a view into a tolerably spacious and gaily-painted room.  In the background stood a clay model of an Apollo of admirable workmanship; above, and near this, the wall was hung with lutes and lyres of various size and form.

In the middle of the room, and near the open door, was a table, on which stood a large wicker cage containing several nests of young goldfinches, and with green food twined among the osiers.  There were, too, a large wine-jar and an ivory goblet decorated with fine carving.  Close to the drinking-vessels, on the stone top of the table, rested the arm of an elderly woman who had fallen asleep in the arm-chair in which she sat.  Notwithstanding the faint grey moustache that marked her upper-lip and the pronounced ruddiness of her fore head and cheeks, she looked pleasant and kind.  She must have been dreaming of something that pleased her, for the expression of her lips and of her eyes-one being half open and the other closely shut-gave her a look of contentment.  In her lap slept a large grey cat, and by its side—­as though discord never could enter this bright little abode which exhaled no savor of poverty, but, on the contrary, a peculiar and fragrant scent—­lay a small shaggy dog, whose snowy whiteness of coat could only be due to the most constant care.  Two other dogs, like this one, lay stretched on the floor at the old lady’s feet, and seemed no less soundly asleep.

As the prefect came up, the architect pointed to this study of still-life, and said in a whisper: 

“If we had a painter here it would make a lovely little picture.”

“Incomparable,” answered Titianus, “only the vivid scarlet on the dame’s cheeks seems to me suspicious, considering the ample proportions of the wine-jar at her elbow.”

“But did you ever see a calmer, kindlier, or more contented countenance?”

“Baucis must have slept like that when Philemon allowed himself leave of absence for once! or did that devoted spouse always remain at home?”

“Apparently he did.  Now, peace is at an end.”  The approach of the two friends had waked one of the little dogs.  He gave tongue, and his companion immediately jumped up and barked as if for a wager.  The old woman’s pet sprang out of her lap, but neither his mistress nor the cat let themselves be disturbed by the noise, and slept on.

“A watcher among a thousand!” said the architect, laughing.

“And this phalanx of dogs which guard the palace of a Caesar,” added Titianus, “might be vanquished with a blow.  Take heed, the worthy matron is about to wake.”