"I have been exacting, capricious and cruel for some time past," she added with an angelic sweetness. "You must forgive me, Nello; I am ill, and I feel that I cannot control my temper as usual. I forget that you are not destined to remain a gondolier, and that a brilliant future is in store for you. Forgive me for this too; my friendship for you is so great that I had a selfish desire to keep you with me, and to bury your talent in this humble and obscure position which is ruining your prospects. You defended your independence and your dignity and you did well. Henceforth you shall be free, you shall study music; I will spare no pains to keep your voice unharmed and to develop your talent; you shall perform no other service for me than such as is dictated by affection and gratitude." I swore that I would serve her all my life; that I would rather die than leave her; and, in truth, my attachment to her was so deep and so pure that I did not consider that I was taking a rash oath. She was better after that, and insisted on my taking my first lessons in singing. She was present, and seemed to take the keenest interest. In the intervals between the lessons, she made me study and recite to her the elementary principles of music, of which I had not the slightest idea, although I had instinctively conformed to them when I sang naturally. My progress was rapid. I ceased to do hard work of any kind. The signora pretended that the double movement caused by the two oars in alternation tired her, and Mandola's wages were doubled so that he might not complain of having to do all the work alone. As for myself, I was always in the gondola, but I sat in the bow, occupied solely in looking into my mistress's eyes to divine what I should do to please her. Her lovely eyes were very sad--very pensive. Her health improved at times, then became worse again. That was my only sorrow, but it was very keen.