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Updated: June 6, 2025
I was in Belgium, near the Countess Styvens when my letter would be brought in to her, for, as nearly as I can make out, it ought to arrive to-day." "No," said M. Darbois, "that letter has not been delivered; it is still in my desk." Their faces expressed the great astonishment that they felt. "You did not like it, papa?" "Very much, very much. It is quite good and and pathetic."
"She is, I think, the equal to some of the greatest tragedienes," and when they told Esperance she said, "Is he still here?" looking towards the salon. "No, he did not wish to weary you. He only left this note:" "You were divine in Phedre, delightfully feminine in Barberine. No one is happier at your phenomenal success than your always devoted, Albert Styvens."
After lunch the Count joined the four young people in a ramble along the cliffs. Esperance and Genevieve went arm in arm, the three young men followed; with Styvens in a dream of delight, happier than he had ever been in his life. Maurice was watching Genevieve every day seeing her more beautiful, and abandoning himself without much effort to this new passion.
The day he heard that he was serving as Turk's head in a Brussels music-hall, he went instantly behind the scenes of the theatre and demanded to see the Director, who was in conversation with the author of the piece. He went right up to them. "I," he said, raising his hat politely, "am Count Albert Styvens.
"No, no," said Esperance to Countess Styvens, "no, no, no; the theatre is not a house of evil repute, nor are its followers evil doers: the theatre is a temple where the beautiful is always worshipped; it makes a continuous appeal to the higher senses and natural passions. In this temple vice is punished, and virtue rewarded; the great social problems are presented.
They gave it to me at the hotel saying it was for you." The box on being opened displayed a magnificent basket of orchids. Attached by a white ribbon was a card "Countess Styvens." Esperance grew pale; she took the card from her mother's hands, fearing that she might be mistaken. It was indeed the Countess and not the Count. She breathed again!
And he put his horse across the fields. Esperance's horse did not follow the bend of the road as Styvens had expected. Blinded by fright, it made straight ahead towards the cliffs. Once on the rocks, there was the precipice and certain death. The Count's horse leapt as if it understood what it had to do.
In the beautiful house which Countess Styvens occupied with her son, an animated discussion was taking place at the same moment between Baron von Berger and Count Albert. "I advise you, my boy," the Baron was saying brusquely, "to ask for another post. You, so sensible, too sensible, for a man of your age, in fact it's a little ridiculous...."
See, dear, a little strength, stand up, and we will go home at once...." But Esperance's head slipped from the mother's support into her arms, while her whole body was shaken by sobs. The Countess Styvens came in to find the girl exhausted by a storm of moans and sobs.
The Duke came forward, and hearing the conversation joined in with a request that was almost like pleading. Styvens held out his angular fist to the young girl; the Duke extended a long white hand; and so both led her to the piano. The Duke's fingers pressed her palm lightly but with a suggestion of encouragement, while the Count's held her like a vice that would never open.
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