"Do you not understand them? Can you not teach me?" asked Orsino, displeased with the idea of employing a third person.
"Oh yes—I have been a clerk myself. I should be too much honoured but—the fact is, my spare time—"
He hesitated and seemed reluctant to explain.
"What do you do with your spare time?" asked Orsino, suspecting some love affair.
"The fact is—I play a second violin at one of the theatres—and I give lessons on the mandolin, and sometimes I do copying work for my uncle who is a clerk in the Treasury. You see, he is old, and his eyes are not as good as they were."
Orsino began to think that his partner was a very odd person. He could not help smiling at the enumeration of his architect's secondary occupations.
"You are very fond of music, then?" he asked.
"Eh—yes—as one can be, without talent—a little by necessity. To be an architect one must have houses to build. You see the baker died unexpectedly. One must live somehow."
"And could you not—how shall I say? Would you not be willing to give me lessons in book-keeping instead of teaching some one else to play the mandolin?"
"You would not care to learn the mandolin yourself, Signor Principe? It is a very pretty instrument, especially for country parties, as well as for serenading."