"I am not telling you anything new," he added to Albert when they were alone. "You know as well as I do that the Duke is in love with Esperance. We all know it here."

Albert agreed with a rather sad smile that he did know it.

"Now that my cousin is your fiancee, he is too much of a gentleman to seek her, but he certainly wants to be near her, to talk to her, in short to flirt with her."

"You believe that he would dare?"

"My dear cousin," said Maurice, half jestingly, half serious. "I believe him capable of anything, but he knows that you are here ... and perhaps is afraid to take liberties."

"To put an end to his manoeuvrings we must somehow make him look ridiculous, and expose his folly. The fete, I think, will give us our chance."

Albert said, "I will follow your advice, Maurice."

"Very good. I will give you particulars of my plans. By the way, I have brought all your invitations. I will go and deliver them." So they went to seek the others, and Maurice gave each one a card with a personal invitation for the twentieth of September. Genevieve blushed.

"I am invited as well," she said.

"Of course; and I believe the amiable d.u.c.h.ess intends to ask you to recite the poem she has written. It is very touching. I will find it for you to-morrow. Ah! yes, you have made a great impression on that delightful lady. She talked about you to me all the time. You would have supposed she was doing it to please me."

Genevieve became purple. It was the first time Maurice had expressed himself so frankly. When they left the table she led Esperance aside and kissed her until she almost stifled her.

"Oh! how happy I am, and how I love him!"

Maurice and Jean pa.s.sed by talking so busily that they did not see the girls.

"You are sure?"

"Absolutely. Since I have been away for four whole days I am convinced more than ever that I adore that girl and shall not be happy without her."

"You have written to your father?"

"Not yet. I must first of all talk to Genevieve."

"You are not afraid of what she will say? Of her answer?"

Maurice smiled.

"I want first to tell her of my future plans, and to have a confidential chat with her about everything."

"You will be my best man, old fellow," he went on, clapping Jean on the shoulder. "You have chosen the role of actor, with the temperament of a spectator; strange lover!"

"Like any other man I follow my Destiny. You were born for happiness, Maurice, one has only to look at you to be convinced of it. You breathe forth life, you love, you conquer. Youth radiates from you. I have asked myself a hundred times why I have chosen this career, and I am persuaded that I must live, if at all, the life of others."

"Are you very upset--unhappy?" asked Maurice.

"No, oh no; I don't suffer much, but of course I am a little disturbed. I am like a reflection. Esperance's happiness elates, her sorrow depresses me. I love her purely as an idealist. I would like Count Albert to look like the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche, and still keep the n.o.ble soul that we know he possesses. If your cousin should die, I truly believe that I would die. My life would be without aim, without soul; bereft of light, the reflection would vanish."

They walked slowly down to the beach to join Albert and the girls. The night had broken soft and limpid, full of stars, full of dreams. They sat down on the sand, silently admiring the prospect. The waves broke regularly as if scanning the poem of silence. A fresh scent rose from the rocks which were clothed with sea moss. Far away a dog was barking. The young people were silent, united in a mood of wonder before the depths and lights of the night.

PART IV. THE CHaTEAU

CHAPTER XXIII

On the fifteenth of September the girls had to tear themselves away from their quiet retreat at Belle-Isle, and leave Penhouet and all else to travel with Mlle. Frahender, Jean and Maurice to the Chateau de Montjoie. When they arrived there, at ten in the evening, Esperance recognised the Duke in the distance as soon as the carriage stopped.

He was looking out of one of the great windows above the terrace. He was, in fact, awaiting the coming of Esperance. But he pretended not to have seen the carriage and continued to gaze up at the stars.

Esperance trembled and her lips were icy cold. Albert had also seen the Duke, and was not deceived by his att.i.tude. He had resolved to be calm, but a sullen, unbidden anger arose within him.

When the housekeeper had installed the two girls in a tower of the Chateau, she left with them a little Breton peasant girl.

"She will be devoted to your service," she said. "Her name is Jeanette. Her room is above yours and, when you ring this bell, she will wait upon you at once."

Esperance threw herself on her bed, still dressed, for her heart was overflowing.

"Ah! why, why is Albert so trusting? Why did he let me come here?

Would it not have been better to have run the risk of offending the d.u.c.h.ess?"

And when Genevieve tried to reason with her, "I am suffering, little sister," she replied, "I am so unhappy; for the sight of the Duke at the window distressed me. I tremble at the idea of seeing him again, and yet I long for the time when I can give him my hand."

"But this is serious," said Genevieve. "I thought you had recovered from all that nonsense, or rather, I thought you would be less affected."

She helped Esperance to undress. The poor child let her do so without a word.

She slept badly, haunted by dreams and troubled with nightmare. At six o'clock in the morning she woke up feverishly, and rang for the maid.

The little Breton appeared five minutes later, her eyes still full of sleep, her cap crooked.

"Will you get me a little warm water?" asked Esperance. "It is cold from the tap."

"It is too early, I am afraid. Mademoiselle must please to wait a little."

"Well, be as quick as you can, please. I want to go for a walk in the park while there is no one about."

The little Breton laughed. "You won't run any danger of finding anyone at this hour. What will the ladies take for breakfast?"

"Two cups of chocolate, please," said Genevieve, beginning to get up.

"Be so good as to make haste, Jeanette, get us our hot water and our chocolate, like a good girl and say nothing to anyone."

Jeanette looked in the mirror, adjusted her cap, put back a stray lock of hair, and opened the door. But she stopped, looking at the girls craftily.