"I think that everybody shares my opinion. Your defects are criticised indulgently, your good qualities warmly praised; people are not surprised at your brilliant performance when they learn that you are from Catania and the son of Pier-Angelo Lavoratori, an excellent workman, full of fire and spirit. We are loyal compatriots hereabout, Michelangelo! We rejoice at the triumphs won by a child of the country, and everyone generously claims a share in them. We esteem so highly those who are born on our beloved soil, that we forget all distinctions of rank, and nobles and peasants, artists and artisans, mutually overlook their ancient prejudices and unite their prayers in a fervent desire for national unity." "Oho!" thought Michel, "the marquis is talking politics to me! I don't know his opinions. Perhaps, if he has guessed the princess's feelings, he proposes to try to ruin me! I will not trust him.--Will your lordship tell me," he said aloud, "if the Princess of Palmarosa has deigned to look at my paintings, and if she is not altogether dissatisfied with my work?" "The princess is enchanted, do not doubt it, my dear fellow," replied the marquis, with extraordinary warmth; "and if she knew that you were here she would come and tell you so herself. But she is too much engaged at this moment for you to obtain speech of her. To-morrow, I doubt not, she will give you the praise that you deserve, and you will lose nothing by waiting. By the way," he said, turning again as he was about to leave the grotto, "will you come and see my Chinese paintings, and some other pictures not altogether without merit? I shall be delighted to see you often. My country house is close at hand." Michel bowed, as if to thank him and accept his invitation; but, although he could not help being flattered by the marquis's gracious manner toward him, he was depressed, crushed as it were. Evidently the marquis was not jealous of him. He was not even disturbed. XII MAGNANI Nothing is so mortifying as to have believed, though it were only for a single hour, in the reality of a romantic, intoxicating adventure, and to discover that you have simply been dreaming an absurd dream. Each new reflection in which our young artist indulged cooled his brain and led him back to the dismal field of probabilities. Upon what foundation had he built so many castles in Spain? Upon a glance which he had doubtless misinterpreted, and upon a remark which he must have misunderstood. All the convincing arguments which offered a flat contradiction to his extravagant conceit stood like a mountain in his path, and he felt that he was falling back from heaven to earth.