After a time he did not even remember to pull the cat's tail in the morning, so as to make her sing with him, as he said.

When Mariuccia went to church she would take him with her, and he seemed very fond of going, so that I asked him one day if he would like to be a priest when he grew up, and wear beautiful robes, and have pretty little boys to wait on him with censers in their hands.
"No," said the little urchin, stoutly, "I won't be a priest." He found in his pocket a roast chestnut Mariuccia had given him, and began to shell it.
"Why are you always so fond of going to church then ?" I asked.
"If I were a big man," quoth he, "but really big, I would sing in church, like Maestro De Pretis." "What would you sing, Nino ?" said I, laughing.

He looked very grave, and got a piece of brown paper and folded it up.

Then he began to beat time on my knees and sang out boldly, _Cornu ejus exaltabitur_.
It was enough to make one laugh, for he was only seven years old, and ugly too.

But Mariuccia, who was knitting in the hall-way, called out that it was just what Maestro Ercole had sung the day before at vespers, every syllable.
I have an old piano in my sitting-room.