It would be hardly fair that he should; to overlook and advise twenty-two young men in five different branches of art would hardly be within one man’s compass.
The Ave Maria was ringing as I entered the portals of the Villa and, as that was the dinner-hour, I went straight to the refectory. As soon as I appeared in the doorway there was a hurrah that raised the roof.
“Ho! ho! Berlioz! Oh that blessed head! that fiery mop! that dainty nose! I say, Jalay, his nose knocks spots out of yours; take a back-seat, my good man!”
“He can give you points in hair anyway.”
“Ye gods, what a crop!”
“Heigh, Berlioz! how about those infernal side-drums that wouldn’t start the Fire! By Jove! he was in a wax. Good reason, too! I say, have you forgotten me?”
“I know your face well enough, but your name——”
“He says ‘you.’ Don’t give yourself airs, old boy, we are all ‘thou’ here.”
“Well, what is thy name?”
“Signol.”