“Had it,” she said, with a sudden inspiration, “been Italian, I should have told you.”
There was a singular smile visible, for a moment only, in the eyes of the Vicomte d'Audierne, and then he spoke.
“Mademoiselle,” he said, “learnt most of it from me. We are old friends.”
Signor Bruno bowed. He did not look too well pleased.
“Ah—but is that so?” he murmured conversationally.
“Yes; I hope she learnt nothing else from me,” replied the Vicomte carelessly.
Hilda turned upon him with a questioning smile.
“Why?”
“I do not imagine, little girl,” replied d'Audierne, “that you could learn very much that is good from me.”
Hilda gave a non-committing little laugh, and led the way through the nut-trees towards the house. The Vicomte d'Audierne followed, and Signor Bruno came last. When they emerged upon the lawn in view of Mrs. Carew and Mr. Bodery, who were walking together, the Vicomte dropped his handkerchief. Signor Bruno attempted to pick it up, and there was a slight delay caused by the interchange of some Gallic politeness.