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Renzo was very near quarrelling with his interpreter; he

trembled; he was enraged with what he had understood, and with

what he had not understood. He made him read three or four times

this melancholy epistle, sometimes understanding it better,

sometimes finding obscure and inexplicable that which at first

had appeared clear. In the delirium of his passion, he desired

his amanuensis to write an answer immediately.