He had an infinite relish for the place and the season, but as he strolled by the Arno and paused here and there in the great galleries, they failed to soothe his irritation.

He was sore at heart, and as the days went by the soreness deepened rather than healed.

He felt as if he had a complaint against fortune; good-natured as he was, his good-nature this time quite declined to let it pass.

He had tried to be wise, he had tried to be kind, he had embarked upon an estimable enterprise; but his wisdom, his kindness, his energy, had been thrown back in his face.

He was disappointed, and his disappointment had an angry spark in it.