"Not too soon, I think. I am nearly sure that if you were to read
Emile's books just yet you would regret it."

Vere said nothing.

"Don't you think you can trust me to judge for you in this matter,
figlia mia? I--I am almost certain that Emile himself would think as I
do."

It was not without an effort, a strong effort, that Hermione was able
to speak the last sentence. Vere came nearer to her mother, and stood
before her, as if she were going to say something that was decisive or
important. But she hesitated.

"What is it, Vere?" Hermione asked, gently.

"I might learn from life itself what Monsieur Emile's books might
teach me."

"Some day. And when that time comes neither I nor he would wish to
keep them out of your hands."

"I see. Well, Madre dear, let us read whatever you like."

Vere had been on the verge of telling her mother about the previous
night and Peppina. But, somehow, at the last moment she could not.

And thus, for the moment at least, Artois and she shared another
secret of which Hermione was unaware.