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Updated: June 23, 2025
The Baron recognized the opposition of an unchangeable will to his own, which no discussion could influence. Life had resumed its regular course in the apartment on the Boulevard Raspail, but an important relationship was developing in Esperance's life. Count Albert Styvens came three times a week to pursue his philosophic studies with Professor Darbois.
It is all over, all over," she said, shaking her pretty head; "and I am as well as possible." "I am more than delighted," said the Duchess, sitting down. "You have no idea, my dear Albert, of the perfect disaster Esperance's absence would have caused. She is the star of our bill, as they say, and on whom we all rely.
When the official had read Esperance's birth certificate, he exclaimed, "What! Mademoiselle is the daughter of the famous professor of philosophy?" The two women looked at each other with amazement. "Why, ladies," went on the official, radiantly, "my son is taking courses with M. Darbois at the Sorbonne.
"Espérance's" suggested cure is rather drastic. She says: "Perhaps one of the best cures for mental sedentariness is arithmetic, for there is nothing else which requires greater power of concentration." Perhaps arithmetic might be an effective cure, but it is not a practical cure, because no one, or scarcely any one, would practise it.
Don't be either too nervous or too malicious, it does not agree with your type of beauty. I kiss your hands." He went towards the Chateau, and took up his vigil in the little salon adjoining Esperance's room. The Countess of Morgueil was confused and mortified. "He is not so stupid as he looks," she thought. Albert was reading, but listening all the time.
The head of the Provisional Government instantly grew as enthusiastic as M. Dantès himself; he grasped Espérance's free hand and, shaking it with the utmost cordiality, exclaimed: "Your son, M. Dantès! Let me congratulate you! Why he is a perfect hero!"
The Duke inquired for Esperance's health and decided that it must be excellent from her looks. "But my dear Albert," he said, laughing, "you almost knocked me over this morning, however, I do not blame you, I would have done as much myself in your place. However, I must be off, my horse is fagged. I shall see you later." And he was gone. "How pale the Duke looked," exclaimed Esperance.
The scarf had been removed from Esperance's mouth, and the son of Monte-Cristo, still wrapped in his lethargic sleep, lay on the sod beside Maldar near one of the wells. It was a wild and picturesque group, such a group as would have filled the soul of a painter with delight and inspiration.
I would sacrifice myself for Esperance's happiness if I knew she wanted to marry another man." Maurice shrugged his shoulders. "We are not of the same race. Your blood runs colder in your veins than mine, for mine boils. But, perhaps you have a better understanding of these things?" And he left the Count to go and help the Duke prepare the "Judgment of Paris."
After the rehearsal of Les Femmes Savantes, when they finished the scene of Iphygenia, Jean Perliez turned to Madame Darbois and inquired the name of Esperance's instructor. "Why, she had none. My daughter has worked alone; I have given her the cues." She smiled that benevolent smile, which always lighted her features with a charm of true goodness and distinction.
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