He had formed a strong attachment for Tite, whom he now approached with his hands extended.
"Like you," he said, grasping his hand firmly and looking up imploringly into his face, "I was young and handsome once.

I am old and ugly now.
Crime has written its ugly finger all over my face; has thrust its poison into this poor heart of mine.

Never let it lay one ugly finger on your face.

Make yours a life of joy, so that you may die happy.

Oh, these poor old gray hairs of mine, this head that has sinned so much." And he raised his hard, bony hand to his head, and tossed the long white hair back over his shoulders.
"Come with me, come with me, young man," he resumed, grasping Tite by the arm nervously and tottering to the door.