"It seems to me," said Nino, seating himself, "that it was you who made the pretty speech, and I who thanked you for it." There was a pause.
"How do you feel!" asked the baroness at last, turning her head to him.
"Grazie—I am well," he answered, smiling.
"Oh, I do not mean that,—you are always well. But how do you enjoy your first triumph?"
"I think," said Nino, "that a real artist ought to have the capacity to enjoy a success at the moment, and the good sense to blame his vanity for enjoying it after it is passed."
"How old are you, Nino?"
"Did I never tell you?" he asked innocently. "I shall be twenty-one soon."
"You talk as though you were forty, at least."
"Heaven save us!" quoth Nino.
"But really, are you not immensely flattered at the reception you had?"