“What is become of my head?” asked the young sculptor angrily.
“It has been removed by my command,” replied the stranger, with his accustomed apathy.
“And who are you, Sir, who dare to give orders in the gardens of the great Medicis?”
“Follow me, and you shall learn!”
“I will follow, to force you to restore me my Faun.”
“Perhaps you will be better satisfied to leave it where it is.”
“We shall see.”
“We shall see,” echoed the stranger, and then took the path to the palace, with the same calm demeanour; but on his beginning to ascend the staircase, the boy, seemingly terrified as well as angry, caught his arm, saying, “Where are you going, Sir? You are approaching the apartments of the Prince, and although he may look over an intrusion in the royal gardens, we here run great risk.”
On, proceeded the stranger, the servants rising as he approached, the guards saluting.
Michael was lost in wonder. Even supposing him one of the household (he thought to himself), my Faun belongs to me, and he ought to restore it: my labour is my own, and I can pay him for the marble.