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Updated: June 23, 2025
You seem to have understood nothing, and your father, thanks to his philosophy, that least trustworthy of guides, continues futilely reasoning, for ever reasoning!" His harangue was cut short. Esperance's clear voice broke in, "I do not wish to hear you speak in this manner of my father, godfather," she said coldly. "My father lives for my mother and me. He is good and generous.
Sardou had been able to study Esperance's qualifications during the months he had been a frequent visitor at the Darbois's home, and he had made the most of his prescience. Lack of experience of the theatre, so natural in a child of sixteen, suggested several scenes of pure comedy.
I will never betray that confidence, and my godfather will be obliged to consume all his own horrid prophecies." When Esperance's portrait was finished, the family could not admire it enough. Maurice who was for himself, as for others, a severe critic, said, "It is the first time that I have been satisfied with my own work.
Captain Joliette rushed to Mlle. d' Armilly's dressing-room and the Count of Monte-Cristo wended his way back to the Palazzo Costi, utterly bewildered by what had taken place. A full account of his life and of Espérance's remarkable career will be found in that absorbing novel, "The Son of Monte-Cristo," published complete and unabridged by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia.
The poor girl was surrounded by all the blessings that unbounded wealth could confer; she had the Count's love, Mercédès' love, Espérance's love and the sincere affection of all who knew her; but alas! princely riches, parental, brotherly love and the affection of friends were as nothing compared to the passion that was gnawing at her vitals, a desperate, hopeless passion that was but a heavy weight of woe!
Tears coursed down Esperance's pretty cheeks. The abandon of her graceful arms, her renouncement of a struggle against the gods, her longing for death, her shame after the tale of "Oenone," her radiant vision of the son of "Theseus," all was fully appreciated by the public, and by a distinguished company of connoisseurs, often strongly critical, but never insensible to real talent as it developed.
When Francois and his family were announced in the salon of the Princess, the Minister hastened forward to convey Madame Darbois to a seat, after presenting her to the Dowager Duchess de Castel-Montjoie, Mlle. Jeanne Tordeine, of the Theatre-Francaise, and several other guests. Esperance's entrance roused the curiosity of all.
The admiration of his twenty years, for Esperance's alluring beauty, was purified into a friendship which he felt growing deeper and stronger.
The men could not admire enough the suppleness of Esperance's lovely body, the whiteness of her bare feet with their pink arches, the gold of her hair floating like a nimbus around the head of Andromeda, waved by the breeze as the stage turned. The women admired the Duke, so very beautiful in his gold and silver armour. "How splendid the Duke is," remarked the Countess to Albert.
His face, his hair, his eyes are all of a neutral tint which you cannot define." "But handsome men are very rare!" Esperance did not answer. "There is the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche, too. Do you like him any better?" The moon shone full on Esperance's face. "Great Heavens, dearie," exclaimed Genevieve quickly, "you are not in love with that man, I hope."
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