tried to prevent him. But he stopped of his own accord, before he
had done himself any grievous harm.

"What!" I cried out in anger--"what! you make me come all the way
from Paris to Girgenti, by promising to show me a manuscript, and
now, when I come, you tell me you have not got it! It is simply
infamous, Monsieur! I shall leave your conduct to be judged by all
honest men!"

Anybody who could have seen me at that moment would have been able
to form a good idea of the aspect of a furious sheep.

"It is infamous! it is infamous!" I repeated, waving my arms, which
trembled from anger.

Then Michel-Angelo Polizzi let himself fall into a chair in the
attitude of a dying hero. I saw his eyes fill with tears, and his
hair--until then flamboyant and erect upon his head--fall down in
limp disorder over his brow.

"I am a father, Excellence! I am a father!" he groaned, wringing
his hands.

He continued, sobbing:

"My son Rafael--the son of my poor wife, for whose death I have been
mourning fifteen years--Rafael, Excellence, wanted to settle at Paris;
he hired a shop in the Rue Lafitte for the sale of curiosities. I
gave him everything precious which I had--I gave him my finest
majolicas; my most beautiful Urbino ware; my masterpieces of art;