“One day I received a visit from a country fellow, who said he had come from the neighbourhood of Canino, and brought with him a vase painted in the early Corinthian manner, the names of the figures being indicated by Greek inscriptions. The man declared he had discovered it in a tomb which had fallen in after heavy rains. The price asked was very reasonable, and the bargain was soon concluded. At that time M. van Branteghem ... was one of the most eager buyers of Greek vases, and he was so envious of my acquisition that I had real pleasure in giving it up to him. A little while after this, there called on me at my house a member of the French School in Rome, M. Gsell.... He began by asking me if I had not lately purchased a vase, which he closely described, and which proved to be the very one I had bought from the native of Canino. Now M. Gsell inspected so attentively the excavations under his care that it was impossible, he assured me, for the workmen to have stolen anything. All objects found were registered as soon as they were taken out of the tombs, and were locked up every evening in a warehouse. However, one day M. Gsell perceived that one had disappeared. He sent for the supposed thief (one of his superintendents), and by means of threats extracted a confession of the theft, and the name of the amateur to whom the vase had been sold. In conclusion, M. Gsell entreated me to let him have the vase.... Having parted with the vase, I felt the situation very embarrassing, but I told my interlocutor what had happened, and why I had handed the vase over to M. van Branteghem. The distress of M. Gsell on hearing this news touched me to such a degree that I ended by telling him that, knowing M. van Branteghem to be a gentleman, I would inform him he had become the owner of stolen goods, and throw myself on his mercy. The same day I wrote to the Belgian amateur and made a clean breast of the matter, and the vase was returned as quickly as possible. The vase was replaced in the museum of the Prince Torlonia at the Lungara. “Years passed away, when one morning I was told that a peasant, who was waiting in the hall, desired to show me an antique work of art. This was an event of daily occurrence—indeed, it happened several times every day, and usually I found that the object for whose sake I had been disturbed was either quite uninteresting or else a fraud. But this time—astonishing fact!—I was shown the very vase that I had restored to the French School, and had afterwards seen at the Lungara Museum. Once again it had been stolen!”