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What a mercy it was to be "educato"!
He came back again almost directly, bearing the book as a sacristan
might bear a black-letter Bible.
"Ecco, Signora."
With a superb gesture he placed it before her.
"The coffee, the fine. Attendez, Signora, pour un petit momento."
He stood to see the effect of his French upon her. She forced into her
face a look of pious admiration, and he at once departed. Hermione
opened the book rather furtively. She had the unpleasant sensation of
doing a surreptitious action, and she was an almost abnormally
straightforward woman by nature. The book was large, and contained an
immense number of inscriptions and signatures in handwritings that
varied as strangely as do the characters of men. She turned the leaves
hastily. Where had Emile written? Not at the end of the book. She
remembered that his signature had been followed by others, although
she had not seen, or tried to see, what he had written. Perhaps his
name was near Tolstoy's. They had read together Tolstoy's /Vedi Napoli
e poi Mori/.


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