Esperance kept her word to Doctor Potain, and spent fifteen days stretched out in a cosy lounge chair. The particular part of the beach had been chosen by Maurice, for it was during this time of forced repose that he intended to do his cousin's portrait for the next Salon. In a little hollow of the hill, he settled the chair. A great tamarisk with feathery foliage of bright green formed a background. To the right was the sea, to the left a glowering mass of dark rocks. Jean and Genevieve took turns in reading aloud, and the picture was said to be progressing famously. During the first two weeks Esperance spent about five hours every day in the chair, but from the sixteenth day she only devoted one hour for posing, after lunch, and then she began to organize excursions to explore the country round about.

One morning as the four young people were returning from a bicycle ride, they saw ahead of them the little brake on its return journey from Palais to the farm which Mme. Darbois had used on a shopping expedition with Marguerite. In the brake were two other persons—two men. The excursionists were still too far from the carriage to recognize the strangers. But Esperance, who was watching, stopped suddenly. Genevieve, who was behind her, almost rode into her, and had to jump lightly from her wheel. Maurice and Jean were some distance behind. She called to them. They were much concerned to find Esperance, with a pale face, clenching her hands on the handle-bar.

"What is it, cousin, what ails you?"

At first she did not speak at all, then her eyes lost their far-away look and she gazed at Jean.

"I don't know," she said in a changed voice, "I think I had some hallucination come upon me."

Then she pointed towards the distant brake which was approaching
Penhouet at a great pace.

"What did you see?" Maurice insisted. "You have had a dizzy feeling come over you? You must be careful."

"Yes, perhaps so," she went on, shaking her head as if to rid it of some vague thoughts that were disturbing her brain, "perhaps so. But let us be quick, for one of the gentlemen was Doctor Potain."

"Were there two men," asked Jean.

"Yes, two."

And she started off again at a great pace.

Jean was dolefully perplexed.

When they arrived at the farm they were quite breathless from their long ride. The philosopher was waiting for them at the door.

"Esperance, my dear," he said, "Doctor Potain is here with the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche. Your mother met them at the Palais, just as they had landed from the boat and were looking for a carriage."

"Very well, father, I must change my things and I will be with you as quickly as possible."

Jean Perliez understood the emotion of his dear little comrade. She seemed to him at once terrified and fascinated. Maurice was presented to the Duke, who immediately began to make himself agreeable. He was quite anxious he said to see the portrait of which M. Darbois had spoken, so Maurice led him up the hill side. The portrait was on an easel, and from a distance the Duke almost thought that he was seeing the real Esperance, the little girl who was troubling his life. He was delighted with the freshness of the colouring, and the perfection of the likeness, so necessary when the model is so beautiful.

Maurice was pleased by the appreciation of such a skilled dilettante, the praise was evidently sincere. He was very much taken with the Duke, who predicted a glorious future for him.

Jean waited at the foot of the staircase leading to the girl's rooms, and watched them descend. Esperance was looking radiant. She had dressed herself with particular care. He understood the tremors of her heart and decided to keep watch in case she should need him.

When the girls came into the hall, the Duke was talking to Maurice, and the Doctor to FranÇois Darbois. The gentlemen had not heard the door open, but intuitively the Duke turned around.

Esperance met his burning eyes which were veiled by an expression that suggested repentant submission. She inclined her head slowly and went straight up to Doctor Potain, thanking him for coming, and apologizing for having kept him waiting. Potain led her into her parents' room. He was much disturbed by the uneven beating of her heart, stormier than he had ever heard it.

"That is because I just rushed foolishly on my bicycle to see you,
Doctor. I recognized you a long way off. So…."

The Doctor looked closely at the young girl. Her eyes shone with abnormal brightness. He sounded her, but found nothing wrong except the irregularity of her heart. He sent Esperance back to the salon so that he could talk with her father alone. The Duke hastened to apologize for having come thus without notice. He was staying at the ChÂteau of Castel-Montjoie with Doctor Potain, and when he heard that the Doctor was leaving for Belle-Isle, he could not resist the opportunity to come and ask pardon. He talked a long time, with ardent, almost brotherly tenderness; asked when Esperance thought of making her appearance at the Comedie-FranÇaise, urging her to play "Camille," and spoke with considerable praise of Musset's heroine.

"The character of the young girl seems to have been caught alive. I criticize her only for her hardness."

"But," Esperance replied quickly, "that hardness is simply a light veneer, the result of her education. 'Camille,' who knew nothing of life except through the disillusioned account of her friend in the Convent, would soon become human if 'Perdican' had a less complicated psychology."

She stopped, and was silent a minute.

The Duke looked at her.

"All the world has not the candour of a Count Styvens," he said.

This unfortunate sentence exactly answered a fleeting thought that was passing in Esperance's brain.

"So much the worse for 'all the world,'" she said quietly and left him.

Her father and Doctor Potain came in at this moment.

"What are you plotting against me?" she said, going up to them.

FranÇois caressed her velvet cheek. "You shall soon know."

The Duke had remained dumbfounded in his chair. The sudden mastery of this child, who had for the second time rebuked him, touched his pride. His instinct as an irresistible charmer told him she was not indifferent to him. Still he could not define in what way he appealed to her. Was it physical? Was it of a higher order? After a little cogitation, he concluded that that was the secret. However, he was wrong. Esperance was subjugated by the attraction of his masculinity and strength, which was subtly energetic and audacious. His taste and independence appealed to her artistic nature. His vibrant voice, the grace of his slender hands, the lightness of his spirits always alert, his superiority at every sport, made the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche quite like a real hero of romance. He had expected to subjugate the little Parisian idol, and found himself thwarted by her. This rather annoyed him, and he vowed to conquer her.

Doctor Potain, who was looking at his watch, now chimed in with, "My dear Duke, we must be thinking of leaving; the boat will not wait for us."

Charles de Morlay thanked his farm hosts, and after bowing elegantly over Mme. Darbois's hand, looked for Esperance.

"Jean," said Professor Darbois, "look and see if you can find
Esperance, and tell her to come and say good-bye to our dear Doctor."

But Jean returned alone. Esperance was not to be found. She had flown.

"She had not forgotten about the boat," said the young actor.

"Perhaps she has gone on her bicycle to gather news of old mother Kabastron, who is very ill. That is about ten minutes' distance from here. I will ride ahead on my bicycle."

The Duke laughed gaily, and prepared a scathing witticism with which to wither the young girl. But he did not have the pleasure of delivering it to Esperance, who had hidden herself behind her portrait at the foot of the rook.

She reappeared much later, and was rebuked by her father for having shown such discourtesy to his guests.

"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."

"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 FranÇois 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."

FranÇois turned towards Esperance.

"That is so," she said, kissing her father, "so tell me that you are not angry with your little daughter."

For answer he kissed her tenderly.

"Ah! if I could find a way to shelter you from so much admiration, from being so much sought after. Yet I don't know very well how to defend you."

"Do not reproach yourself, dear father, you have been so good, so trusting. I will never betray that confidence, and my godfather will be obliged to consume all his own horrid prophecies."