This unfortunate sentence exactly answered a fleeting thought that was pa.s.sing 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.

Francois 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 Francois 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."

Francois 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 G.o.dfather will be obliged to consume all his own horrid prophecies."

CHAPTER XVIII

When Esperance's portrait was finished, the family could not admire it enough. Maurice who was for himself, as for others, a severe critic, said, "It is the first time that I have been satisfied with my own work. Little cousin, you have brought me luck, so if my uncle will permit me I am going to teach you to ride a horse."

"My goodness!" said Madame Darbois, "still more anxiety for us!"

But Esperance clasped her hands with delight.

The first riding lessons were a source of new joy for Esperance.

Maurice was an excellent rider, and his pa.s.sion for horses had made him expert in handling them. He had chosen a horse for his cousin from a stable in the Cotes-du-Nord, the private stable of the Count Marcus de Treilles, the horse had been secured at a bargain on account of some blemishes of his coat. He was very gentle, however, and the Darbois soon felt confidence in him. Doctor Potain had recommended a great deal of physical exercise for the patient, to counteract the excess of mental work which had weakened her heart.

"Riding, fishing, walking, tennis," the great specialist had said to Francois Darbois, "will be the best thing for your daughter, and,"

pressing his hand, "let her get married as soon as possible."

Long excursions about the little island became for Esperance the most delightful part of their country life. Very often M. and Madame Darbois, Mlle. Frahender and Genevieve Hardouin would follow in the brake. They carried their lunch with them and ate it sometimes in the little wood of Loret, sometimes on the cliffs amidst the broom, furze and asters with their golden flowers and silver foliage.

The philosopher's fishing fleet was composed, as he laughingly said, of a blue boat with blue sails, and a little Swedish whaler. Francois went every evening about six o'clock to set the nets with the farmer's eldest son, whose portrait Maurice intended doing for the following Salon. All the little colony gathered at nine in the morning on the beach, ready with baskets to bear away the catch.

Maurice, Jean and Esperance went out with the Professor to get the nets. Sometimes they had been put far out and then Esperance would row with the others, for which rough sport her delicate arms seemed out of place. The young people would cry out with delight every time they saw the fish under the transparent water held by the meshes. Sometimes they had quite a big draught; two or three rays, several magnificent soles, with mullets, and flounders. Sometimes a great lobster would give the net such tweaks that they guessed his presence before they saw him. And sometimes it happened that the catch was nothing but a few sea crabs, who would half devour the other unfortunate fish imprisoned with them. Another day a great octopus appeared, and Esperance grew pale with fright at sight of his long clinging tentacles.

Esperance often made a selection of the seaweeds in the net, and she and Genevieve commenced an alb.u.m in which they pasted, in fanciful designs, these plants, fine as straws or solid and sharp of colour.

This alb.u.m was intended for Mme. Styvens, and the girls worked at it lovingly. Maurice would sometimes a.s.sist them with his advice or make them a sketch which they could copy as carefully as their beautiful materials would admit. Mlle. Frahender devoted infinite patience to gluing the tiniest fibres of the sea plants. Some were bright pink, suggesting in formation and colour the little red fishing boats.

Others were gold with their slender little flowers rising in cl.u.s.ters.

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 alb.u.m 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. He begged to present his compliments to Mme. and Mlle. Darbois. The professor read the letter aloud after dinner.

"I hardly think," he queried, "that I can well refuse this pleasure to my favourite pupil?"

Maurice, Jean, the old Mademoiselle and Mme. Darbois seemed very happy at the prospect of a visit from the Count.

"He is a very good musician...." "He can row splendidly...." "He has a heart of gold...." concluded the philosopher.

A dispatch was sent to Albert Styvens, telling him they would all be delighted to see him. Only Esperance showed some reserve, and Maurice cried out, "My cousin is in dread of musical evenings, I see!"

They all laughed at this quip, which had a very close resemblance to the truth.

"Yes, papa, but no music after dinner: our evenings would be lost! It is so pleasant to go for long walks on these wonderful moonlight nights! The piano is for the town, here we only want to enjoy the harmonious music of nature, the sea that croons or roars, the wind that whistles, whistles or scolds, the plaint of the sea-gulls in the storm, the cry of the frightened gulls and cormorants, the clicking of the pebbles rolled over by the waves; all these charm me strangely and I often sleep on the little beach, soothed by these melodies which you will find echoed in the themes of our great masters."