"
Sylvia looked up with a smile from the book she was reading. "Entrez,
monsieur," she said gayly; "avez-vous apporte votre livre, votre cahier,
et votre plume? Comment va l'oncle de votre ami? Le chat de votre mere,
est-il noir?"
Austin burst out laughing at her mimicry of the typical conversation in a
beginner's grammar, and she joined him. The critical moment had passed.
He saw that he was welcome, that he had risen and not fallen in her
regard, though he was far from guessing how much, and opening his book,
drew another chair near the fire and sat down beside her.
"You must have some romances as well as this dry stuff," she said, when
he had pegged away at Chardenal for over an hour. "We'll read Dumas
together, beginning with the Valois romances, and going straight along in
the proper order. You'll learn a lot of history, as well as considerable
French. Some of it is rather indiscreet but--"
"Which of us do you think it is most likely to shock?" he asked, with
such an expression of mock-alarm that they both burst out laughing again;
and when they had sobered down, "Now may we have some Browning, please?"
So Sylvia reached for a volume from her shelf, and began to read aloud,
while Austin smoked; she read extremely well, and she loved it.
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