“Certainly, but you will be caught.”
“How?”
“Come and see.”
We went to her room, and I found that all her books were Portuguese, with the exception of Milton, in English, Ariosto, in Italian, and Labruyere’s “Characters,” in French.
“Your selection gives me a high idea of your mental qualities,” said I, “but tell me, why do you give such a preference to Camoens and all these Portuguese authors?”
“For a very good reason, I am Portuguese myself.”
“You Portuguese? I thought you were Italian. And so you already know five languages, for you doubtless know Spanish.”
“Yes, although Spanish is not absolutely necessary.”
“What an education you have had!”
“I am twenty-two now, but I knew all these languages at eighteen.”