A proud smile of satisfaction passed over the beautiful face of the youth. He took the same attitude toward Ferdinande that she had given her statue.
"Fine!" she said. "One never knows whether you are greater as actor or as sculptor."
"Un povero abbozzatore!" he muttered.
"You are not a workingman!" said Ferdinande. "You know you are an artist."
"I am an artist as you are a princess!"
"What do you mean by that?"
"I was born to be an artist and yet am not one, as you were born to be a princess and yet are not one."
"You are crazy!"
It was not a tone of irritation in which she said this; there was something like acquiescence in it, which did not escape the ear of the Italian.