"True, monsieur; but I thank heaven that I know more than they do; for, as I am almost always alone, I rest myself with a book when I have been working hard."
"May I venture to ask what you are reading?"
"Why not, monsieur?"
Isaure handed Edouard her book, which proved to be a volume of Florian. He stared at the girl in surprise, then returned the book, saying:
"You certainly are not a village girl like the others."
"Because I can read?" rejoined Isaure, with a smile.
"Not that only; but your refined manners, your way of expressing yourself."
"I speak like other people, monsieur."
"Not like the people who live about you; the very choice of this book——"
"I did not choose it; it was given to me."