Signor Geronimo was an excellent singer, excellent company, and had very gay qualities which, at any rate in France, are hardly compatible with each other. After dinner he sang a little duet with Madame de Rênal, and told some charming tales. At one o'clock in the morning the children protested, when Julien suggested that they should go to bed. "Another of those stories," said the eldest. "It is my own, Signorino," answered Signor Geronimo. "Eight years ago I was, like you, a young pupil of the Naples Conservatoire. I mean I was your age, but I did not have the honour to be the son of the distinguished mayor of the pretty town of Verrières." This phrase made M. de Rênal sigh, and look at his wife. "Signor Zingarelli," continued the young singer, somewhat exaggerating his action, and thus making the children burst into laughter, "Signor Zingarelli was an excellent though severe master. He is not popular at the Conservatoire, but he insists on the pretence being kept up that he is. I went out as often as I could. I used to go to the little Theatre de San Carlino, where I used to hear divine music. But heavens! the question was to scrape together the eight sous which were the price of admission to the parterre? An enormous sum," he said, looking at the children and watching them laugh. "Signor Giovannone, director of the San Carlino, heard me sing. I was sixteen. 'That child is a treasure,' he said. "'Would you like me to engage you, my dear boy?' he said. "'And how much will you give me?' "'Forty ducats a month.' That is one hundred and sixty francs, gentlemen. I thought the gates of heaven had opened. "'But,' I said to Giovannone, 'how shall I get the strict Zingarelli to let me go out?' "'_Lascia fare a me_.'" "Leave it to me," exclaimed the eldest of the children. "Quite right, my young sir. Signor Giovannone he says to me, 'First sign this little piece of paper, my dear friend.' I sign. "He gives me three ducats. I had never seen so much money. Then he told me what I had to do. "Next day I asked the terrible Zingarelli for an audience. His old valet ushered me in. "'What do you want of me, you naughty boy?' said Zingarelli. "'Maestro,' I said, 'I repent of all my faults. I will never go out of the Conservatoire by passing through the iron grill. I will redouble my diligence.' "'If I were not frightened of spoiling the finest bass voice I have ever heard, I would put you in prison for a fortnight on bread and water, you rascal.' "'Maestro,' I answered, 'I will be the model boy of the whole school, _credete a me_, but I would ask one favour of you. If anyone comes and asks permission for me to sing outside, refuse. As a favour, please say that you cannot let me.'