The last presentation of Sardou's play was a veritable ovation for Esperance. Flowers were presented to her on the stage. Two baskets attracted special attention, one overflowing with white orchids; the other, with gardenias, so powerful in their sweetness that even the first rows of the orchestra felt their strength. It was rumoured in the boxes that the white orchids were sent by the Countess Styvens and her son Albert, who were sitting in a stall in the auditorium. As to the gardenias, the card attached to the green ribbons of the basket revealed the name of the most elegant clubman of Paris, the Duke Charles de Morlay-La-Branche. He was a handsome man of thirty-two, very wealthy, adored by women, popular with men. A ripple ran through the audience.

"You know the Duke, they say that he is very much taken…."

"They know each other?"

"No, he has never been presented."

"No, look out for the love of the immaculate Albert," said mockingly a beautiful woman with bold eyes, glancing toward the stall occupied by Albert and his mother; but her eyes widened at seeing the Duke enter to present his compliments to the Countess Styvens. A few minutes later he was seen to go out with Count Albert. He was going to be presented to the young artist.

Count Styvens's love was known to all Paris, as was also the respect with which he surrounded his idol. It was also known that the young girl did not return this love; likewise that the son of the chemist Perliez was devoting his life to Esperance. But what would be the end of these two gallants, both so timid, so full of silent ardour? But now had entered upon the scene a rival possessed of beauty, of confidence, one who had toyed lightly with women's hearts, until he had wearied of the facile love his physical charm and wit attracted.

"That should be good sport to watch," said an old beau. "I am betting on the Duke."

A newly married bride turned towards him, "I am betting on the young girl."

A journalist, thin, blonde, very young, just beginning his career, had followed the Duke and the Count behind the scenes. He accompanied them into Esperance's little room and described what happened as follows:—

"She was holding the two cards, there in the midst of the overpowering odour of gardenias. She blushed when she heard the name of the Duke, Albert Styvens was presenting to her. She thanked them both very prettily, but without showing any preference for either. The Duke began complimentary speeches without making any impression. When they took leave, he wanted to kiss Esperance's hand, but she withdrew it looking very much surprised. This rather confused the Duke. As soon as these gentlemen departed I was presented, and her manner was just as charming. Jean Perliez came in just then to tell her that the curtain would go up in three minutes. He brought her a bunch of Parma violets, and she took them from him and put them in her girdle; you will see her wearing them on the stage. Perliez is desperately in love with her, and he grew very pale. He went out without a word. I think he must have gone to cry out his emotion in a corner. 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. The young journalist wrote a very suggestive article concerning this little scene, highly ornamented with phrases that would attract attention; but unfortunately the editor refused to print it. The Duke did not care for notoriety, and was, moreover, a renowned fencer, so the editor exercised his discretion. Count Styvens belonged to the foreign diplomacy and was very particular, and no one had infringed on his privacy since the little affair in the Brussels music hall. That left only Jean Perliez, who was merely sincere and pathetic; the public did not want to read that kind of thing! So much for the little journalist.

Countess Styvens was spending a month in Paris, staying at the Legation with the Princess de Bernecourt, who always had a suite ready for her. There was to be a grand opening ceremony of the Opera season, and for many years the Styvens had never missed the first nights of the Opera or the Comedie-FranÇaise.

One evening at dinner the conversation turned upon music, and a guest regretted the mechanical performance of the musical prodigies at the Conservatoire.

"It gives them a certain amount of cleverness, or technique, or whatever you like to call it, but there is no flair of the ideal, and often no important personality."

"I know a young artist," said Albert Styvens, "who plays with her whole soul, and I, who really love music, find her far ahead of all your prodigies."

Almost a sensation was produced among the guests.

The Countess said with her sweet smile, "I see that they tease you here as well as at Brussels."

"That does not affect me, mother, you see; I remain faithful to my ideal."

"Never mind, tell us the name of this new discovery."

"Her name is Esperance Darbois," said Albert rising, resting his two hands on the table. Then, having produced his effect, he sat down again.

"What! she is a good musician too?"

"Excellent," replied Albert, "and I will wager that whoever hears her will agree with me.

"How is it possible to hear her? She does not play at the concerts.
But tell us how did you contrive to hear her?" demanded the Princess.

"I study with her father, FranÇois Darbois, so I have become a friend of the family. They asked me to dinner once, and I was early enough to hear Mlle. Esperance play. After dinner we played a very difficult duet together. She had absolute command of her execution and her emotion."

A young attachÉ murmured to an amiable dowager, "I am afraid that they have completely taken him in."

Count Albert sprang to his feet.

"I am not willing that you should try to belittle this family whom you do not know. FranÇois Darbois, the philosopher, is a fine character, of unparalleled honour and integrity: his wife has never frequented the world where people are 'taken in,' as you say, and as for Mlle. Esperance … so much the better if you do not know her?"

The Duke de Morlay-La-Branche, sitting beside the Princess, said to her, loud enough for all to hear, "Albert Styvens is entirely right: they are people of a very different order. They are a very refreshing trio for Parisian society."

Everyone kept quiet and listened to what the Duke had to say. It was well known that he was attracted by Esperance's beauty and talent, and it was also known that he was a sceptic, a railer, not easy for anyone to "take in." The attachÉ, not knowing how to back out of his awkward position, apologized for having spoken in jest. He had heard … but the world is so unjust … etc., etc. No one listened.

"For my part," said the Princess, "I see only one way to put to the proof the statements of the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche and Count Albert, and that is to ask the Darbois family to dinner. Afterwards, Albert must undertake to persuade this adorable little comedian to reveal her ability as a musician."

The Minister was most agreeable and said, "All our guests this evening must be present at the dinner."

Albert Styvens was consumed with joy. And the Duke did not attempt to conceal his satisfaction.

The only difficulty was to find a suitable excuse for inviting the Darbois. Chance proved itself the Count's accomplice. In conversation with the professor the next day the Count was told that there would be no lesson on the following Tuesday, because the professor was to deliver an address on the question of the hour—"Can philosophy and religion evolve without danger in the same mind?" The conference was to be held at the home of Madame Lamarre, the wife of a fashionable painter. Albert knew that his mother was a great friend of this lady. He told the Countess and the Princess, and it was agreed that they should both go to this conference. When the Professor was presented it would be easy for the Princess to say that Countess Styvens was anxious to meet again her little friend of Brussels, then the invitation could easily follow. Everything happened according to the Count's plans.

FranÇois Darbois had a great success; the Catholic party owed him recognition for his noble dissertation on the rÔle of philosophy in religion. He was a fervent follower of the author of "The Genius of Christianity."

The Princess de Bernecourt presented sincere compliments to the affable philosopher. The Countess Styvens presented herself to Madame Darbois, who thanked her for her special kindness to Esperance, who regretted that she had not herself been able to thank her sufficiently.

"Now won't you," said the charming Princess, "do us the honour to come to dinner at the Legation next week? That will give the Countess and myself a chance to renew our acquaintance with your adorable daughter."

FranÇois, being appealed to, accepted the invitation for the following
Tuesday.

"My husband will be delighted, dear M. Darbois, to meet you; he is one of your most faithful readers," said the Princess.

On their return the Darbois found Esperance very anxious to learn the result of the conference. FranÇois said very simply as he kissed his daughter, "You would have been satisfied…."

But Madame Darbois, made loquacious by her husband's success, recounted everything at length and the triumph obtained by her husband in every detail.

The invitation to dine at the Belgian Minister's rather dismayed, in truth distressed, Esperance. Her joy in her father's success was diminished by this prospect. Count Styvens was certainly not unaware of this unexpected invitation.

"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. They were not ignorant that she did not love him, but they hoped that she would in time be touched by his respectful affection. The philosopher and his wife had often talked of this prospect with each other. They did not want to cause any pain to their cherished daughter. M. Darbois had already had to give up all idea of Jean Perliez, for he had begged him not to speak of him to Esperance. She was his goddess; he adored her but felt unworthy of her. With resignation FranÇois charged his wife to find out Esperance's state of mind, but these were futile efforts. Madame Darbois could never approach the burning question; she hovered round it with such uncertainty that Esperance never for an instant suspected her mother's real motive in the long talks they had together.