"From whom?"
"From no one."
"That's right!" exclaims Seggiola, forgetting all humbug in genuine artistic enthusiasm. "For, between ourselves be it said, singing is never taught."
And when the Prince laughs, and hopes on the contrary to profit much from the art of the maestro, the latter replies, with the inborn courtesy of his nation,--
"If you will kindly help me to reveal to my class here the beauty of song, you shall always be welcome, mon Prince. I can teach you nothing."
The lesson is over. Zino helps Stella and his cousin to put on their wraps, takes leave of della Seggiola with his brilliant smile and cordial pressure of the hand, of the rest with a very brief nod, and leaves the room with his two special ladies.
"A charming man, that Principe Capito," says della Seggiola, rubbing his hands delightedly. "And he can sing like Mario in his best days. I used to give his sister lessons."
"I have met him before in Vienna," Fräulein Fuhrwesen mutters. "He is an Italian, to be sure, but his arrogance he learned in Austria."