‘I shall be quite content by myself,’ Bel replied, as she watched Heitor stand and gather up his papers and notebook.

‘Thank you for your company. I enjoy our conversations very much.’

‘As do I,’ Bel said shyly, as he gave her a nod and left the room.

Maria Elisa’s chill developed into a fever by lunchtime and the doctor was called. Her mother looked little better than her daughter, and both were prescribed aspirin and bed rest until the fever had passed. With all of Paris beckoning, Bel roamed the apartment like a caged animal, her frustration making her less sympathetic towards Maria Elisa than she knew she ought to be.

I am a terrible, selfish person, she scolded herself as she sat beside the window, longingly watching Paris living beneath her.

Finally, out of boredom, she agreed to play cards with Maria Elisa’s younger brothers, while the precious hours of her first day ticked by.

Due to the prolonged nature of Maria Georgiana’s and Maria Elisa’s illness, Bel’s impatience to be out and about grew apace. Towards the end of her first week, during which she had not once set foot on a Parisian boulevard, she plucked up her courage and asked Maria Georgiana whether she would permit her to take a walk in the street to breathe some fresh air. The answer, as expected, was no.

‘Certainly not unchaperoned, Izabela. And neither I nor Maria Elisa are currently well enough to accompany you. There’ll be plenty of time to see the sights of Paris when we return from Florence,’ Maria Georgiana said firmly.

Bel walked away from Maria Georgiana’s room wondering how she would manage to contain herself until they left for Florence. She felt like a starving prisoner, gazing through the iron bars of her cell at a box of chocolate delights, tantalisingly placed only a few millimetres from her reach.

It was Heitor who finally saved the day. For the past week they had met at breakfast, and although he was preoccupied, even he had noticed her forlorn solitariness.

‘Izabela, today I will visit Boulogne-Billancourt to meet the sculptor Professor Paul Landowski. We have already talked by letter and on the telephone, but I will go to his atelier for him to show me where and how he works. He is my current favourite for the commission, although I still have other sculptors to meet in Italy and Germany. Would you like to accompany me?’

‘I . . . I would be honoured, senhor. But I worry that I might get in the way.’

‘I am certain that you will not. I understand that you must be bored by your incarceration here, and while I speak to Professor Landowski, I’m sure we can find one of his assistants to show you round his atelier.’

‘Senhor da Silva Costa, I can’t think of anything I’d like more,’ Bel said fervently.