In your eyes, it must look very absurd.

It is a grief, I presume, to all men, to find the pleasant privileges and properties of early life departing from them.

That grief has now befallen me.

Well; I shall waste no more tears for such a cause!" Nothing else made Kenyon so sensible of a change in Donatello, as his newly acquired power of dealing with his own emotions, and, after a struggle more or less fierce, thrusting them down into the prison cells where he usually kept them confined.

The restraint, which he now put upon himself, and the mask of dull composure which he succeeded in clasping over his still beautiful, and once faun-like face, affected the sensitive sculptor more sadly than even the unrestrained passion of the preceding scene.