‘And so, I come to the second part of my question,’ Margarida continued softly. ‘I’ve been observing you and Laurent together as he’s sculpted you. I will be honest and say that at first I thought his flattery and innuendo were no more than he’d give to any pretty woman he chose as his model. But in the past few days, I’ve noticed the way he gazes at you sometimes, the tender way he touches the stone as he works, as if he is dreaming that it’s really you he’s caressing. Forgive me, Izabela,’ Margarida said, shaking her head. ‘I’m usually pragmatic when it comes to the subject of love. I understand well what men are, especially here in Paris, but I feel I must warn you. I fear he may, in his undoubted passion for you, and the fact that your time together is running out, forget that you are spoken for.’

‘A fact that I would of course immediately remind him of,’ replied Bel, giving Margarida the only appropriate reply.

‘Would you? I wonder,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘For as I see the way Laurent feels about you, I also see the way you are with him. In fact, I knew it from the minute he walked over to our table at La Closerie des Lilas on our very first lunch together in Montparnasse. And I will be honest, it worried me from the start. I thought back then that perhaps he was playing a game with you, sensing your naivety. There are many unscrupulous men amongst the creative fraternity in Paris. They see love as an amusement, the woman’s heart no more than a toy to be played with. And when they have seduced their prey with their golden tongues, and she is ripe for the plucking, they take what they desire. And then of course, having achieved their aim, the game no longer holds any novelty and they move on, looking for a fresh challenge.’

Bel watched Margarida’s features tighten with pain as she delivered her speech, and noticed her eyes were moist.

‘Yes, Izabela.’ Margarida shot her a glance. ‘What you’re thinking is right. When I was in Italy, I fell in love with just the kind of man I’ve described. And of course, having come straight from the protective cloak of Rio, I was as innocent as you. And yes, he seduced me. In all senses of the word. But when I left for Paris, I heard from him no longer.’

Bel computed in silent shock exactly what Margarida was telling her.

‘There. I have shared my biggest secret with you,’ Margarida breathed. ‘And I do it simply because I hope something positive can emerge from the terrible blackness and despair I suffered afterwards. I’m a little older than you, and sadly, after what happened to me, wiser. And I can’t help seeing in you what I was then: a young woman in love for the first time.’

Bel was fit to burst with her feelings for Laurent. Up to now, she’d only been able to pen them in heartfelt outpourings to Loen. She decided to trust Margarida, given the secret she herself had shared.