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The Duke had stepped back behind the booth. Esperance came out with Genevieve and Mlle. Frahender. He stopped beside her a moment. "I love you." "Oh, thank you." "Forever, I hope!" Then, as he saw that the Count was still surrounded and that Esperance would not be able to make her way to him, he offered her his arm. "Let me take you to Count Styvens, who cannot extricate himself!"
The room was charming in its decoration, though when it was finished it seemed more fit for a young girl than for a big, broad-shouldered man. M. and Mme. Darbois went to meet Count Styvens at Palais. Francois had taken his glasses and pointed out the boat to his wife. "There is the Count," said Mme. Darbois. "I recognize his tall figure."
Since you are among them," she went on boldly, "you should realize it and rejoice in it." Adhemar shrugged his shoulders. "They are all mad, even the old saint!" They left the table. He stopped before a basket of flowers. "Who sent you those, my child?" "Count Albert Styvens," replied Jean. "Ah!
The Duke de Morlay was standing behind the Marquis, who was still at the whist table. Albert Styvens had sat down beside a diplomat from Italy, Cesar Gabrielli, a serious young man, a clever diplomat, and a renowned fencer. When Montagnac finished his hand, the Duke offered him a cigar. "Will you help me with some arrangements for the performance to-morrow?"
The Minister was most agreeable and said, "All our guests this evening must be present at the dinner." Albert Styvens was consumed with joy. And the Duke did not attempt to conceal his satisfaction. The only difficulty was to find a suitable excuse for inviting the Darbois. Chance proved itself the Count's accomplice.
She let herself fall rather than sit in the chair to which Albert Styvens had conducted her. Here she found herself between the Count and the young Baron de Montrieux, who attempted, with the most charming courtesy to forestall her every want and monopolize all her attention. The Baron was overflowing with wit and Esperance listened with delight.
Esperance had resumed her usual life, alternately calm and feverish. She was studying for the Competition. She often wrote to Countess Styvens, who had returned to Brussels, on the subject. Before she left, the Countess had come to see the little invalid, who had touched her heart so much that special evening at the Princess's. She had also got to know the professor and his wife more intimately.
Suddenly she recollected her comrade. "Jean," she cried with fright, "Jean, Count Styvens?" Jean sorrowfully showed her the wagon where he lay. Esperance, leaning on the young actor, stood up to be able to see, and a great sob shook her from head to feet. "My God! my God!" she moaned, "is he killed?" "No, I don't think so, not yet at least...."
That is all," concluded the rising journalist. He repeated his story twenty times, and by next morning all Paris knew that the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche had been received by Esperance like any other gentleman, that Count Albert Styvens had been noncommittal, and that Jean Perliez had been overcome.
Darbois did not wish to leave her daughter, but the philosopher insisted, until she could not refuse, that she should go back to the Countess Styvens. When the professor arrived at the Chateau he found the Duke de Morlay at the gate waiting for tidings. At sight of Esperance unconscious, her head fallen back on her father's breast, he jumped on the step of the victoria.
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