He believes that a man may be the son of a ciociaro--a fellow who ties his legs up in rags and thongs, and lives on goats' milk in the mountains--and that if he has brains enough, or talent enough, he may marry any woman he likes without ever thinking whether she is noble or not.

De Pretis must be old-fashioned, for I am sure I do not think in that way, and I know a hundred times as much as he--a hundred times.
I suppose it must have been the very day when Nino had been to De Pretis in the morning that he had instructions to go to the house of Count von Lira on the morrow; for I remember very well that Nino acted strangely in the evening, singing and making a noise for a few minutes, and then burying himself in a book.

However that may be, it was very soon afterwards that he went to the Palazzo Carmandola, dressed in his best clothes, he tells me, in order to make a favourable impression on the count.

The latter had spoken to De Pretis about the lessons in literature, to which he attached great importance, and the maestro had turned the idea to account for his pupil.

But Nino did not expect to see the young contessa on this first day, or at least he did not hope he would be able to speak to her.