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Twice, during dinner, he had caught the covetous glance of the Duke fixed on Esperance, and he had suffered acutely in consequence. He looked at the Duke coldly; his shyness would have made him dumb had it not been for the sustaining power of his anger. "I cannot reply to you now," he said. "My mother is here." The Duke de Morlay-La-Branche, who was, after all, a gentleman, came up to him.
The Duke de Morlay-La-Branche, after conversing for a few minutes to Francois Darbois, whom he had met several weeks before, came up to the young girl as she was standing before the Countess Styvens, replying to the compliments the charming lady was paying her. "I am told that you are quite a clever musician."
The second picture represented Judith and Holofernes. The beautiful brunette, the Marquise de Chaussey, in a daring costume designed by Maurice, held in her hand a magnificent scimitar, the property of Morlay-La-Branche. She was to pose, raising the curtain, as in the picture of Regnault. The third picture was the deliverance of Andromeda.
"What a lot of preamble! Well, I am listening." "The Duke de Morlay-La-Branche loves Esperance passionately." "Well, that is a pity for the Duke, but he will console himself easily enough." Maurice was silent before he continued, "Esperance is madly in love with the Duke!" Francois started violently. "You are raving, Maurice; she is engaged to Count Styvens and has no right to forget him."
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.
Charles de Morlay-La-Branche withdrew to the rear of the long room, and stood alone, leaning against a beautiful Italian window, to listen and to watch. A conflict of feelings were struggling within him.
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."
"You were absorbed in a philosophic discussion with the Doctor, and the Duke was not speaking very loud." "Can you not be more definite?" asked Francois Darbois a little nervously. Jean intervened, "May I say something?" "Certainly, my boy." "Well then. I heard the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche make fun of the honesty of Count Styvens, and at that Esperance abruptly broke off the conversation."
Esperance was saying to herself, "so this cultivated, broad-minded lady thinks just as the others do." The Princess continued, "We want you to play with your fiance the Liszt symphonic poem that you played one evening at the Legation; and to take part in some tableaux vivants that we are all to appear in. The Duke de Morlay-La-Branche is directing and staging this part of the programme.
He bowed to the Count and led the way by a little door to the inn stable. He was carrying two sets of swords, done up in two cases of green cloth. The Duke and his seconds were already there. Only the Doctor had not arrived. Morlay-La-Branche and Albert bowed to each other and got ready. The little bowers, where the habitues of the inn often ate their midday meals, served them as dressing-rooms.
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