The performance was an unparalleled triumph for the players and little "Dona Sol" received the most flattering part of the success. The King, knowing that the Queen had already favoured this delightful child, would not be outdone in generosity, and sent to the dressing-room of the new star a very beautiful ring, set with a magnificent pearl and two diamonds. Esperance, who had never had any jewellery except a gold chain that her mother's aunt had left her and the little ring her father had given her for her first communion, found herself, in one day, possessor of two ornaments which the most fastidious worldling would not have disdained. She put the ring immediately on her first finger, since it was a little loose for the ring finger, and looked at herself in the glass, arranging a lock of hair with the ringed hand, raising an eyebrow and laughing delightedly to see the effect produced by the ring. Count Albert watched her from the neighbouring room where he was waiting. His face was of a livid pallor. His heart beat so fast that he felt weak, and was forced to sit down. He was out of his senses. All the frenzy of youth, repressed so long, mounted in a wave to his brain.

Marguerite, coming to dress her mistress, announced that the gentlemen were waiting. She quickly threw on a cloak, saying, "I am ready."

Mounet-Sully and Count Albert entered together. The Count offered his arm to the old Mademoiselle, and Esperance, free of the contact that disturbed her, joyfully accepted the tragedian's assistance.

The supper was charming, and proved to the young girl that the feasts of artists and men of the world do not end in the orgies described by the odious godfather. The young girl was at the right of the Prince with Mounet-Sully opposite, at the right of the Princess. None of the guests could help noticing the Count's agitation. The Military Aide, representing King Leopold, Baron von Berger, was an old friend of the Styvens's family. He was uneasy, and when he saw the young Count preparing to take the ladies home, "No, no, my boy," he said to him in a low tone, "You are not yourself—you are distraught. I am afraid that you have been hard hit."

"You are not mistaken," replied the young man, "I burn like a devil, and at the same time I am as happy as a god."

"Well, now I am going to escort these ladies, and to-morrow I will have a talk with you."

Esperance slept badly and woke late. The old Mademoiselle was sitting beside her, spectacles across her nose, reading the papers. Her kind face was beaming. She was cutting out and putting aside certain articles, then she pinned them in order, all ready to send to M. and Madame Darbois.

The young girl was touched, and raising herself in bed, flung her arms about the old lady.

"What a dear you are, and how I love you!"

Mlle. Frahender at that moment had her reward for all the little sacrifices she had made for her pupil.

The critics were dithyrambic in their discourses concerning the new "Dona Sol," but the casual reporters were, as always, indiscreet, and disguised the truth under little prevarications, fantastic and suggestive. After having read two or three of the articles, Esperance pushed them all aside. She took the name of all the critics, and wrote them little notes of thanks, while Mlle. Frahender added the addresses. In the neighbouring room a discussion was going on between her knight-attendants. Esperance did not gather its cause, although certain phrases were audible.

"No, I tell you," Maurice was saying, "if it is worth while at all, I must be the one."

"I could always demand a correction," replied Jean.

"Correction of what? It is simply one of those ambiguous phrases which are used every day. Why notice it?"

The sound of Esperance's voice cut short their discussion.

"What are you talking about?" she called out.

"Nothing at all," returned Maurice, "that is, only stupid things you would not understand."

"That is not a very gallant morning greeting, cousin, but you have not forgotten your promise to lake me to the Museum this morning, I hope."

"Yes, my dear, we will go to the Museum in a very little while."

She heard the door close.

"Are you still there, Jean?" she called.

"And at your service," he replied.

"There is nothing I need, thank you. I just want to know what correction you were talking about."

"It is a private affair of Maurice's," stammered the young actor.

"I see, thank you."

After lunch the travellers set out for the Museum. Maurice was surprised and delighted by the instinct that guided his cousin towards the best that was in the pictures. He explained to her in the language affected by painters the reason for certain unreal shadows in a certain picture, and the necessity for them, the tact a painter must use in managing his light, the difficulty of foreshortening. He told her the well-known anecdote of Delacroix replying to the professor who objected that he had put a full face eye in a profile, "But, my dear master, I have tried everything and that is the only eye that gives the profile its proper value." And the professor of the great painter-to-be, after several sketches on the transparent paper over his pupil's canvas, said to him, "You are entirely right. Keep that full face eye."

They left the Museum, animated by different feelings. The more that Maurice discovered his cousin's noble qualities, the delicacy of her feelings, the strength of her loyalty, the more he felt of protective affection for this child who was so pure, so free, and who had made her entry so bravely into the whirlpool where things are generally turbulent, and most brutal in the brutal side of Parisian life. The admiration of his twenty years, for Esperance's alluring beauty, was purified into a friendship which he felt growing deeper and stronger. As to Jean Perliez, he had become more and more resigned that his love should remain forever in the shade, unlimited devotion for all time, all his being offered in sacrifice to the frail idol, who went her way star-gazing, unsuspecting all the time that she was trampling upon hearts under her foot.