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“What an awful day’s work! But you must be earning a fortune,” commented Manuel.

“Eighty to ninety duros.”

“And with that income you live here?”

“You have eyes for only the income, not the expenses. Every month I have to send thirty duros to my family, so that my mother and sister can exist. The litigation costs me fifteen to twenty duros per month, and with the rest I manage to get along.”

Manuel contemplated Roberto with profound admiration.

“Why, my boy,” exclaimed Roberto, “there’s no help for it if a fellow is to live. And that’s what you ought to do,—hunt, ask, run around, look high and low. You’ll find something.”

It seemed to Manuel that even were the promise of kingship held out to him, he would be unable to bestir himself so actively, but he kept silence.

He waited for the sculptor to get up and the two exchanged impressions as to life’s difficulties.

“See here. For the present you work for me as a model,” said Alex, “and we’ll manage to find some arrangement that will assure us food.”