“Ebbene! talk as much as you please, for, of course, you have the right, for you have brought me up, and you have certainly opposed my singing enough to quiet your conscience.  But, dear professor, I will do all that I say, and if you will give me a little help in this matter, you will not repent it.”

“Help?  Dio mio!  What do you take me for?  As if I could help you, or would!  I suppose you want money to make yourself a dandy, a piano, to go and stand at the corner of the Piazza Colonna and ogle her as she goes by!  In truth!  You have fine projects.”

“No,” said Nino quietly, “I do not want any money or anything else at present, thank you.  And do not be angry, but come into the caffe and drink some lemonade; and I will invite you to it, for I have been paid for my last copying that I sent in yesterday.”  He put his arm in mine, and we went in.  There is no resisting Nino when he is affectionate.  But I would not let him pay for the lemonade.  I paid for it myself.  What extravagance!

CHAPTER III

Now I ought to tell you that many things in this story were only told me quite lately, for at first I would not help Nino at all, thinking it was but a foolish fancy of his boy’s heart and would soon pass.  I have tried to gather and to order all the different incidents into one harmonious whole, so that you can follow the story; and you must not wonder that I can describe some things that I did not see, and that I know how some of the people felt; for Nino and I have talked over the whole matter very often, and the baroness came here and told me her share, though I wonder how she could talk so plainly of what must have given her so much pain.  But it was very kind of her to come; and she sat over there in the old green arm-chair by the glass case that has the artificial flowers under it, and the sugar lamb that the padre curato gave Nino when he made his first communion at Easter.  However, it is not time to speak of the baroness yet, but I cannot forget her.

Nino was very amusing when he began to love the young countess, and the very first morning—­the day after we had been to St. Peter’s—­he went out at half-past six, though it was only just sunrise, for we were in October.  I knew very well that he was going for his extra lesson with De Pretis, but I had nothing to say about it, and I only recommended him to cover himself well, for the sirocco had passed and it was a bright morning, with a clear tramontana wind blowing fresh from the north.  I can always tell when it is a tramontana wind before I open my window, for Mariuccia makes such a clattering with the coffee-pot in the kitchen, and the goldfinch in the sitting-room sings very loud; which he never does if it is cloudy.  Nino, then, went off to Maestro Ercole’s house for his singing, and this is what happened there.

De Pretis knew perfectly well that Nino had only asked for the extra lesson in order to get a chance of talking about the Contessina di Lira, and so, to tease him, as soon as he appeared, the maestro made a great bustle about singing scales, and insisted on beginning at once.  Moreover, he pretended to be in a bad humour; and that is always pretence with him.