"The arts! the arts!" cried Signor Polizzi, throwing up his arms
again to heaven--"the arts! What dignity! what consolation!
Excellence, I am a painter!"

And he showed me an unfinished Saint-Francis, which indeed could
very well remain unfinished for ever without any loss to religion
or to art. Next he showed me some old paintings of a better style,
but apparently restored after a decidedly reckless manner.

"I repair," he said--"I repair old paintings. Oh, the Old Masters!
What genius, what soul!"

"Why, then," I said to him, "you must be a painter, an archaeologist,
and a wine-merchant all in one?"

"At your service, Excellence," he answered. "I have a zucco here
at this very moment--a zucco of which every single drop is a pearl
of fire. I want your Lordship to taste of it."

"I esteem the wines of Sicily," I responded, "but it was not for the
sake of your flagons that I came to see you , Signor Polizzi."

He: "Then you have come to see me about paintings. You are an
amateur. It is an immense delight for me to receive amateurs. I
am going to show you the chef-d'oeuvre of Monrealese; yes,
Excellence, his chef-d'oeuvre! An Adoration of Shepherds! It is
the pearl of the whole Sicilian school!"

I: "Later on I will be glad to see the chef-d'oeuvre; but let us