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Updated: June 5, 2025
Finally magnetized by the looks fixed upon her, Esperance turned her head away with a little cry of surprise. Mlle. Frahender, who had been asleep, opened her eyes, and straightened the angle of her bonnet. Esperance shook her pretty head laughing, while Maurice exhibited his sketch and announced to his cousin his desire to paint her portrait. "How pleased my father will be," she cried.
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!"
During dinner Esperance was quite exuberant and proposed a hand at trente-et-un as soon as dessert was finished. "After that, we will go to bed very early, to have our best looks ready for to-morrow, will we not, my little lady?" she said, placing her slender hand on the wrinkled fingers of Mlle. Frahender. "My little lady" was the pet name Esperance often gave her.
His anecdotes were always instructive, drawn from his manifold sources of knowledge in art or science. Mlle. Frahender was stupified by so much eclecticism, the philosopher forgot his grief, Madame Darbois realized for the first time that there might exist a brain worthy of comparison with her husband's. As to Esperance, she was living in a dream of what the future would unfold.
Close to the kitchen was a very comfortable room for Marguerite and the other maid. A wooden staircase led to six rooms above, which were very airy, and all hung with bright chintzes. Mlle. Frahender was installed next to Esperance, with Genevieve on the other side.
Maurice would sometimes assist them with his advice or make them a sketch which they could copy as carefully as their beautiful materials would admit. Mlle. Frahender devoted infinite patience to gluing the tiniest fibres of the sea plants. Some were bright pink, suggesting in formation and colour the little red fishing boats. Others were gold with their slender little flowers rising in clusters.
Frahender, she had very often frankly confided to him that she did not want to think about getting married for years and years! "I want to live for my art," she would say, "and I will never marry an artist!"
She poured out all her heart in the letter, for she knew that this woman loved her independently of the love of her son loved her entirely for her own self. Two days later Esperance received a letter from the Director of the Comedie-Francaise, asking her to call at four o'clock that same day at the theatre. At the right hour she went with her mother and Mlle. Frahender.
Although the movement had been one of perfect respect, she felt angry with this man for having imposed his will upon her. When she looked at him he was already speaking to Mlle. Frahender, whom he recollected having seen in Esperance's room at the Vaudeville. "Will you not both take my mother's carriage?" he asked. His voice, slow, correct, a little distant, fell on the ear of the young actress.
Like Esperance, he was living in a world of dreams, happy in a realm where there was neither impatience nor jealousy. He knew that he was loved. After lunch Esperance said that she was going to rest, so as to be fresh for next day. Her father and mother were to come on the Princess's little yacht. She and Mlle. Frahender were to go alone to meet them.
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