"And now, signora, will you be kind enough to tell me what you intend to do with me!" "Certainly, since you are more reasonable.

You see I treat you altogether as an artist, and not at all as an Italian master.

A great artist may idle away a morning in a woman's boudoir; a simple teacher of languages must be more industrious." "But I am not a great artist," said Nino, whose vanity--we all have it--began to flutter a little.
"You will be one before long, and one of the greatest.

You are a boy yet, my little tenor," said she, looking at him with her dark eyes, "and I might almost be your mother.

How old are you, Signor Nino ?" "I was twenty on my last birthday," he answered, blushing.
"You see! I am thirty--at least," she added, with a short laugh.
"Well, signora, what of that ?" said Nino, half amused.