He speaks Italian intelligibly, but with the strangest German constructions, and he rolls the letter r curiously in his throat. But he is an intelligent man for a soldier, though he thinks talent is a matter of education, and education a matter of drill. He is the most ceremonious man I ever saw; and Nino says he rose from his chair to meet him, and would not sit down again until Nino was seated.
"The signore is the professor of Italian literature recommended to me by Signor De Pretis?" inquired the colonel in iron tones, as he scrutinised Nino.
"Yes, Signor Conte," was the answer.
"You are a singularly young man to be a professor." Nino trembled. "And how have you the education obtained in order the obligations and not-to-be-avoided responsibilities of this worthy-of-all-honour career to meet?"
"I went to school here, Signor Conte, and the Professor Grandi, in whose house I always have lived, has taught me everything else I know."
"What do you know?" inquired the count, so suddenly that Nino was taken off his guard. He did not know what to answer. The count looked very stern and pulled his moustaches. "You have not here come," he continued, seeing that Nino made no answer, "without knowing something. Evident is it, that, although a man young be, if he nothing knows, he cannot a professor be."
"You speak justly, Signor Conte," Nino answered at last, "and I do know some things. I know the Commedia of Alighieri, and Petrarca, and I have read the Gerusalemme Liberata with Professor Grandi, and I can repeat all of the Vita Nuova by heart, and some of the—"
"For the present that is enough," said the count. "If you nothing better to do have, will you so kind be as to begin?"
"Begin?" said Nino, not understanding.
"Yes, signore; it would unsuitable be if I my daughter to the hands of a man committed unacquainted with the matter he to teach her proposes. I desire to be satisfied that you all these things really know."