‘Of course I will, I have Margarida with me.’

‘Yes, and from my impression, it is like releasing two hungry lions from their cages.’ Maria Elisa raised her eyebrows. ‘Have fun, dearest Bel.’

Bel took the lift to the ground floor and found Margarida waiting for her in the lobby.

‘Come, we are already late. Tomorrow we must set off earlier. Professor Paquet will make an example of both of us if we arrive after he does,’ Margarida said as they walked out to the Delage and clambered into the back.

As the car pulled away, Bel studied Margarida, who was wearing a plain navy skirt and a simple poplin blouse, whereas she herself was dressed as if she was taking tea at the Ritz.

‘I apologise. I should have warned you,’ said Margarida, noticing Bel’s clothing too. ‘The Beaux-Arts is full of starving artists who don’t take kindly to rich girls such as us in the classes. Even though I’m sure we are among the few who pay the tutors’ wages,’ she added with a smile, flicking a stray lock of her brown, shiny bob behind her ear.

‘I understand,’ sighed Bel. ‘Although it’s important that I leave Senhora da Silva Costa under the impression that the class is only full of well-bred young ladies.’

At this, Margarida threw back her head and laughed. ‘Bel, I’m warning you, apart from an elderly maiden aunt, and another . . . person, who I believe is female but has hair as short as a man’s and, I swear, a moustache to match, we are the only girls in the class!’

‘So your mother doesn’t mind? Presumably she must know how it is there?’

‘Perhaps not completely how it is,’ Margarida answered honestly. ‘But as you know, she’s a great believer in female equality. And therefore she thinks it’s healthy for me to learn to fight my battles in a male-dominated environment. Besides, I’m on an arts scholarship paid for by the Brazilian Government. I must attend the best school there is,’ she said with a shrug.

As the car turned onto the Avenue Montaigne and began its journey towards the Pont de l’Alma, Margarida studied Bel. ‘My mother tells me that you’re engaged to marry Gustavo Aires Cabral. I’m surprised he let you loose in Paris.’

‘Yes, I am engaged, but Gustavo wished me to see Europe for myself before I become his wife. He himself came here eight years ago.’

‘So, we must make the short time you have here as exhilarating as possible. And Izabela, I am trusting you to repeat none of what you will see and hear today to anyone. My mother believes I have lessons at the Beaux-Arts until four this afternoon. This . . . is not quite the truth,’ she admitted.

‘I see. So, where do you go to instead?’ Bel asked tentatively.

‘To Montparnasse, to meet my friends for lunch, but you must swear you will never breathe a word.’