From that day on, Edith had a new secret base.
Every time she was out of Aunt Adele''s sight, she flew like a bird to the bottom''s inn room to seek the young painter. Most of the time, she was genuinely welcomed there.
The little sprite was no longer alone.
One day, the painter suddenly asked her, "What books do you like to read?"
Edith couldn''t answer.
"Well, what have you read?"
Edith stammered, trying to recall the name of the fable book that her sister Margot always carried around, but her usual playfulness made her lose face at this moment.
"…Do you know how to read, Edith?"
"Nature is my teacher." She stubbornly refused to be outdone.
Andre chuckled resignedly.
He pulled out two large boxes from under the tattered armchair and opened them in front of her.
They were filled with books, many of them exquisite classics that Edith suspected were priceless.
"You are richly endowed. I''ll teach you," he said to her.
From then on, besides "playing with Monsieur le painter", little Edith had a new task of learning. She spent almost all day in the painter''s studio and living room.
Andre''s prediction was spot on – Edith was indeed an incredibly bright and quick learner.
As a student, her proclivity towards skepticism and questioning would have given a regular pastor a headache, but in this makeshift classroom, her thirst for knowledge was music to her mentor''s ears.
He held the petite close in front, teaching her how to write hand by hand. She started with Fables de la Fontaine; by the age of twelve, she dug out to read Herodotus'' Histories and Du Contrat Social by herself. Soon enough, she was writing pretty thoughtful compositions of her own.
This uniquely gifted girl, first enlightened by the city streets and nature, now receiving such a kind of special education, had never been indoctrinated with Christian catechism nor sub