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Updated: June 8, 2025
Francois Darbois raised his head and looked deep into the lovely eyes, "God keep you, my little daughter!" Next morning Esperance was ready to go to the Conservatoire long before the appointed hour. M. Darbois was already in his study with one of his pupils, so she ran to her mother's room and found her busy with some papers. "You have my birth certificate?" "Yes, yes."
"You are quite right, little daughter," went on Madame Darbois, "the mother of the young Count is perfectly delightful. She is especially anxious to see you again." Esperance breathed deeply, as if to draw more strength from within. She knew her parents were flattered at the idea that the attentions of the young Count could only end in an offer of marriage.
Although the child was arguing vigorously, with intense animation, there was such grace in her gestures, such charming vibrations in her voice, that it was impossible to resent her combative attitude. "Papa, my dear papa," she was asserting to Francois Darbois, "You are saying to-day just the opposite of what you were saying the other day to mother at dinner." Her father raised his head.
"You know very well, papa dear, that I am very grateful to Doctor Potain, and I should not have gone away if he had been alone." M. and Mme. Darbois looked at each other and at Esperance. "Yes, my dear little mother, the Duke makes himself too agreeable for your big daughter." "But," said the philosopher, "I have never noticed it."
Esperance was wild with excitement. The time of waiting for the event seemed interminable to her. Her father tried in vain to calm her with philosophical reflections. Creature of feeling and impulse that she was, nothing could control her excitement. Sardou had also asked Francois Darbois to invite Mlle. Frahender, whose generous spirit and whose tact and judgment he much esteemed.
The young girl and she agreed in many tastes, and very soon they were great friends. M. Darbois was quite contented with the arrangement, and could now attend to his work with complete tranquillity. Every morning the family gathered in the dining-room at half-past eight to take their coffee together.
A visit to Penhouet, however, completely changed my opinion of this little maiden. The atmosphere of beauty, of calm in which she lived, the liking and respect I felt for M. and Madame Darbois, and the free play of intelligence and taste I there discovered, made a deep impression on me and I could not forget.
The long supple green algaes, swelling along their stems into little round beads, like beads of jade, looked as though they wore some Chinese costume. As the album grew it gave promise of wonderful surprises. On the first of September Francois Darbois received a letter from Count Styvens, asking permission to come and submit to him a philosophical work that he had just finished.
Francois Darbois led him into the library and entrusted him with a goodly sum of money. "This should cover your expenses. I count upon you, my young friend, and I thank you." He paused a moment, then asked affectionately, "Have you no hope?" "None," replied Jean, simply, "but what does it matter, but to-day, at least, I am quite happy!"
The guests pressed around the Styvens's to express their admiration for Esperance, in the most dithyrambic, the most superlative terms. The concert began. Albert had to go upon the stage to play the Liszt duet with Esperance. He begged Francois Darbois to take his place beside his mother.
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