When Italian cultural officials faced off in Rome last month with Philippe de Montebello, the director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, they were gambling that they could make headway on a cause that had stymied them for three decades: getting the Met to give up a krater, or vase, by the fifth-century artist Euphronios, that they say was looted from an Etruscan tomb north of Rome. On the face of things, it hardly seemed likely that the Met would suddenly consider returning an object that had been a prized mainstay of its Greek and Roman galleries for so many years. But the Italians had seized on a new strategy: an offer to replace that work - and others they hope to get back from the museum - with loans of equal or similar value. The museum might even be able to hold on to some of the disputed objects as long-term loans, they suggested. Talks between the two sides are still under way, and Italy has not formally presented a loan proposal. The museum has also said it will not respond until it is shown "incontrovertible" evidence to back up Italy's claims for the objects. But the concept has been embraced by both sides, and is likely to figure prominently in any future deal. "There is no precedent for this," said Harold Holzer, a spokesman for the Met, welcoming the overture. The new negotiating tactics could have significant consequences as Italy pursues similar antiquities claims against a growing list of American museums. Like the Met, many of these large institutions depend on access to Italy's vast art collections for their exhibition programs, and have often struggled to secure loans of ancient art treasures. In a recent interview, Rocco Buttiglione, the Italian Culture Minister, said he was prepared to be aggressive about using loans to bring these museums to the table. "We will show good will to those who show us good will," he said. The strategy is part of a broader offensive to crack down on stolen antiquities. Italy has gained additional clout - at least in terms of public awareness - from the current criminal trial of Marion True, a former curator at the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles, and of antiquities dealers with ties to top American museums. "There has been a real change in the last year or so in how the Italians deal with the antiquities issue," said Malcolm Bell III, an archaeologist who has worked for many years in Sicily. "They have become very creative." For the Italian government, using loans to leverage the return of objects has several advantages. As a reward for museums that return objects to Italy, it is potentially face-saving for both sides. It also avoids drawn out and potentially risky litigation: claims about illicitly removed antiquities are often difficult to prove, even when there is strong circumstantial evidence, and ugly court battles can jeopardize longstanding relationships between American museums and their European counterparts. Unlike other out-of-court agreements, loan diplomacy can also be used as a stick. Italian officials have already shown their readiness to withhold loans from museums that do not comply with their demands or that continue to acquire antiquities that do not have a clear provenance. "If a museum buys illicit works and then asks us for loans for an exhibition, we will certainly say no," said Giuseppe Proietti, a senior official responsible for archaeology in Italy's Culture Ministry, in a recent interview. Several years ago, the Getty requested the loan of a group of bronzes from the Naples Archaeological Museum for the inaugural show at the Getty Villa, the newly expanded home of its antiquities collection, which reopens on Jan. 28. The request was denied around the time that Ms. True was indicted on charges of buying illegal antiquities, according to Italian investigators. The villa will open instead with a photography show drawn from the Getty's own collections. At the heart of the Italians' loan strategy are several recent policy changes. In past decades, Italian law limited loans to only six months, and the country's complicated bureaucracy often made it nearly impossible for American institutions to borrow ancient artifacts. Instead, museums tended to rely heavily on their own acquisitions and on loans from private collectors or other collecting museums, to show classical art on a regular basis. On the face of things, it hardly seemed likely that the Met would suddenly consider returning an object that had been a prized mainstay of its Greek and Roman galleries for so many years. But the Italians had seized on a new strategy: an offer to replace that work - and others they hope to get back from the museum - with loans of equal or similar value. The museum might even be able to hold on to some of the disputed objects as long-term loans, they suggested. Talks between the two sides are still under way, and Italy has not formally presented a loan proposal. The museum has also said it will not respond until it is shown "incontrovertible" evidence to back up Italy's claims for the objects. But the concept has been embraced by both sides, and is likely to figure prominently in any future deal. "There is no precedent for this," said Harold Holzer, a spokesman for the Met, welcoming the overture. The new negotiating tactics could have significant consequences as Italy pursues similar antiquities claims against a growing list of American museums. Like the Met, many of these large institutions depend on access to Italy's vast art collections for their exhibition programs, and have often struggled to secure loans of ancient art treasures. In a recent interview, Rocco Buttiglione, the Italian Culture Minister, said he was prepared to be aggressive about using loans to bring these museums to the table. "We will show good will to those who show us good will," he said. The strategy is part of a broader offensive to crack down on stolen antiquities. Italy has gained additional clout - at least in terms of public awareness - from the current criminal trial of Marion True, a former curator at the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles, and of antiquities dealers with ties to top American museums. "There has been a real change in the last year or so in how the Italians deal with the antiquities issue," said Malcolm Bell III, an archaeologist who has worked for many years in Sicily. "They have become very creative." For the Italian government, using loans to leverage the return of objects has several advantages. As a reward for museums that return objects to Italy, it is potentially face-saving for both sides. It also avoids drawn out and potentially risky litigation: claims about illicitly removed antiquities are often difficult to prove, even when there is strong circumstantial evidence, and ugly court battles can jeopardize longstanding relationships between American museums and their European counterparts. Unlike other out-of-court agreements, loan diplomacy can also be used as a stick. Italian officials have already shown their readiness to withhold loans from museums that do not comply with their demands or that continue to acquire antiquities that do not have a clear provenance. "If a museum buys illicit works and then asks us for loans for an exhibition, we will certainly say no," said Giuseppe Proietti, a senior official responsible for archaeology in Italy's Culture Ministry, in a recent interview. Several years ago, the Getty requested the loan of a group of bronzes from the Naples Archaeological Museum for the inaugural show at the Getty Villa, the newly expanded home of its antiquities collection, which reopens on Jan. 28. The request was denied around the time that Ms. True was indicted on charges of buying illegal antiquities, according to Italian investigators. The villa will open instead with a photography show drawn from the Getty's own collections. At the heart of the Italians' loan strategy are several recent policy changes. In past decades, Italian law limited loans to only six months, and the country's complicated bureaucracy often made it nearly impossible for American institutions to borrow ancient artifacts. Instead, museums tended to rely heavily on their own acquisitions and on loans from private collectors or other collecting museums, to show classical art on a regular basis. On the face of things, it hardly seemed likely that the Met would suddenly consider returning an object that had been a prized mainstay of its Greek and Roman galleries for so many years. But the Italians had seized on a new strategy: an offer to replace that work - and others they hope to get back from the museum - with loans of equal or similar value. The museum might even be able to hold on to some of the disputed objects as long-term loans, they suggested. Talks between the two sides are still under way, and Italy has not formally presented a loan proposal. The museum has also said it will not respond until it is shown "incontrovertible" evidence to back up Italy's claims for the objects. But the concept has been embraced by both sides, and is likely to figure prominently in any future deal. "There is no precedent for this," said Harold Holzer, a spokesman for the Met, welcoming the overture. The new negotiating tactics could have significant consequences as Italy pursues similar antiquities claims against a growing list of American museums. Like the Met, many of these large institutions depend on access to Italy's vast art collections for their exhibition programs, and have often struggled to secure loans of ancient art treasures. In a recent interview, Rocco Buttiglione, the Italian Culture Minister, said he was prepared to be aggressive about using loans to bring these museums to the table. "We will show good will to those who show us good will," he said. The strategy is part of a broader offensive to crack down on stolen antiquities. Italy has gained additional clout - at least in terms of public awareness - from the current criminal trial of Marion True, a former curator at the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles, and of antiquities dealers with ties to top American museums. "There has been a real change in the last year or so in how the Italians deal with the antiquities issue," said Malcolm Bell III, an archaeologist who has worked for many years in Sicily. "They have become very creative." For the Italian government, using loans to leverage the return of objects has several advantages. As a reward for museums that return objects to Italy, it is potentially face-saving for both sides. It also avoids drawn out and potentially risky litigation: claims about illicitly removed antiquities are often difficult to prove, even when there is strong circumstantial evidence, and ugly court battles can jeopardize longstanding relationships between American museums and their European counterparts. Unlike other out-of-court agreements, loan diplomacy can also be used as a stick. Italian officials have already shown their readiness to withhold loans from museums that do not comply with their demands or that continue to acquire antiquities that do not have a clear provenance. "If a museum buys illicit works and then asks us for loans for an exhibition, we will certainly say no," said Giuseppe Proietti, a senior official responsible for archaeology in Italy's Culture Ministry, in a recent interview. Several years ago, the Getty requested the loan of a group of bronzes from the Naples Archaeological Museum for the inaugural show at the Getty Villa, the newly expanded home of its antiquities collection, which reopens on Jan. 28. The request was denied around the time that Ms. True was indicted on charges of buying illegal antiquities, according to Italian investigators. The villa will open instead with a photography show drawn from the Getty's own collections. At the heart of the Italians' loan strategy are several recent policy changes. In past decades, Italian law limited loans to only six months, and the country's complicated bureaucracy often made it nearly impossible for American institutions to borrow ancient artifacts. Instead, museums tended to rely heavily on their own acquisitions and on loans from private collectors or other collecting museums, to show classical art on a regular basis. But in 2001, an agreement between Italy and the United States - called a memorandum of understanding - put pressure on Italy to open up its lending rules. The pact, which comes up for renewal in January, introduced a sweeping American import ban on ancient artifacts from Italy in exchange for greater American access to Italian collections for exhibitions and study. Shortly before the agreement took effect, the Italian government extended its loans limit to one year. But a State Department committee that endorsed the agreement urged a new limit of up to 10 years. The Italian government was slow to act on this, but it began to experiment with special loans to museums that adopted strict acquisition rules for antiquities. In 2002, a group of German museums were permitted to borrow works from Italy for up to five years - provided that they also undertook to do scientific work on the borrowed object. "It was a major breakthrough," said Wolf-Dieter Heilmeyer, former curator of the Antiquities Collection of the State Museum of Berlin, who helped negotiate the arrangement. Italy has not made similar arrangements with large American museums, many of which, unlike their German counterparts, have continued to collect ancient art actively. But in May 2004, a new Italian law extended the official loan limit to four years, opening the way for the long-term loans that the Culture Ministry has outlined for the Met and hopes to use with other museums. With the Met, Italy could offer highly sought works on a rotating four-year basis, in exchange for a return of the Euphronios vase. Or it might, say, allow the museum to retain temporary custody of some of its collection of Hellenistic silver - which the Italians say was looted from Morgantina, a site in Sicily - provided that the Met indicates that the works belong to Italy. But the plan faces many hurdles. It is unclear how a loan agreement could guarantee continued access to top pieces over the long term. Mr. Buttiglione has enthusiastically endorsed the idea, and suggests that the loan limit for individual pieces could be extended to 8 or even 12 years. But the current rules to do not call for any such extension, and Mr. Buttiglione himself may be replaced after national elections in April. Still, in the face of a generous loan offer, Mr. de Montebello's resistance to restitution may be increasingly costly for the museum's image. The issue of hard evidence will have to be weighed against the need to persuade the public that the Met is addressing the growing concerns about its acquisitions. Privately, some American museum officials also complain that Italy's new tactics have politicized loans in a way that does not adhere to the bilateral agreement. In 2002, the Princeton Museum voluntarily returned a Roman sculptural relief after a museum curator discovered that it had been illegally removed from Italy. But despite the museum's good-faith return, its request to keep the work, on loan, for study purposes has been refused. For museums like the Met, which borrow many paintings from Italian collections to fill their ambitious exhibitions program each year, the prospect of linking the outcome of restitution talks with future loans could have significant consequences. A current show of paintings by Fra Angelico, for example, includes 11 works from Italian collections. Italian officials emphasize that loans diplomacy is a way of bridging a philosophical divide between their defense of their cultural patrimony and the American museums' zeal for acquisitions of antiquities. As a test case of that approach, they say, a successful agreement with the Met could become a blueprint for other American museums. "We hope it can become a model," said Maurizio Fiorilli, a lawyer for the Italian Culture Ministry.