The Duke sat still and reflected for a minute.

"Very well, you shall judge when you have heard me, what you think you had better do. I leave you free. I love your cousin Esperance: she is the fiancee of Count Albert, but she is not in love with him."

Maurice had thrown away his cigarette and leaning forward, his hands clasped, his eyes on the ground, listened intently.

"I have paid her in a way attentions for a year; I admit it was wrong for I had no definite intentions. A visit to Penhouet, however, completely changed my opinion of this little maiden. The atmosphere of beauty, of calm in which she lived, the liking and respect I felt for M. and Madame Darbois, and the free play of intelligence and taste I there discovered, made a deep impression on me and I could not forget.

The ordinary life of society, so artificial, so devoid of real interest, this life that eats up hours and weeks and months in futilities, in nothings that come to nothing, all this became suddenly quite burdensome to me. I continuously thought of the adorable child I had seen at Penhouet, brighter than all else in that radiant place. I was travelling, and did not learn of the accident to your cousin and Count Styvens until I returned to Paris. Then I wrote for news."

"I came back here to my old aunt's, my nearest relative. I wanted to ask her to invite the whole of the Darbois family to spend a month here at Montjoie. A letter from Count Albert, announcing his engagement to Esperance, was a terrible blow to me. I conceived the detestable idea of revenging myself on Albert, but every scheme went against me. I have been beaten without ever having fought." Then he paused.

"Since you have done me the honour to make me your confidant, permit me to say that the little ambush you laid for Esperance this morning...."

The Duke interrupted, "That ambush was a vulgar trick, theatrical and cheap. I spare you the trouble of having to tell me so. I was about to disclose myself to the young ladies when I heard your cousin speak my name. Then I kept still, hoping to learn something. What man could have resisted? I heard these words spoken to Mlle. Hardouin, 'Yes, the presence of the Duke of Morlay disturbs me; I do not know if that is love, but I do know that I do not love Albert.' They went on towards the clearing; I was compelled to leave my hiding place. You know the rest. The cry the child gave, and her look of reproach unmanned me. I understood at that moment that I loved in deadly earnest; that my intention of avenging myself on Albert was nothing but a vain manifestation of pride, that the ambush was a cowardly concession to my reputation as a--well, deceiver of women. You know what I mean."

He shrugged his shoulders scornfully.

"The man I was trying to be has left the man I am, and now, Renaud, here is what I want you to know. Esperance Darbois loves me, I was convinced of that at the rehearsal. I love her ardently in return. She will not be happy with Albert, and I want to marry her. I will employ no 'illicit means,' as the lawyers say. On other scores I shall feel no remorse to have broken your cousin's engagement. My fortune is twice Albert's; he is a Count, I a Duke, and what is more, a Frenchman."

Maurice stood up nervously.

"You are a very gallant man, Duke, and my sympathy was yours from your first visit to Penhouet, but I am greatly distressed that you should have made me your confidant, for I must in honour bound support Albert."

"I do not see why! It seems to me that the happiness of your cousin might count before any friendship for Albert Styvens."

"But where is her real happiness, I might say her lasting happiness?"

The moon had risen radiantly pure. From their elevation on the terrace, they could overlook all the garden and park sloping gently to the lake. In a boat two young girls were rowing. They were alone.

"You leave me free to act?"

"Absolutely."

"Till to-morrow," said Maurice pressing his hands.

The Duke remained alone on the terrace. He saw the young man go rapidly towards the lake. He heard him hail the girls and saw him climb into the boat with them, then disappear after he had waved with Genevieve's handkerchief a signal of adieu.

CHAPTER XXV

When Maurice and Esperance and Genevieve landed, the Duke was still pacing up and down on the terrace. Maurice had jumped lightly on to the sh.o.r.e, and had helped the young girls out, and having taken them to the Chateau, rejoined the Duke who was waiting for him.

"You are right. Esperance loves you. My uncle comes to-morrow evening.

He is a man of such uprightness that he will find, no doubt, the best solution of this most complicated situation. Only I beg you to spare Albert."

The Duke replied instantly, "I will make every effort to be generous; but this morning he thrust me away from your cousin in a deliberate attempt to insult me. I pretended to blame it on his anxiety, but I may not be able to control myself again, if he drives me so far."

"Alas! I am afraid that you are both of you at the mercy of the first thing that happens. For the love of G.o.d, keep cool. And don't forget to come to-morrow at ten for the rehearsal."

And they parted.

Maurice did not sleep a wink. Esperance and Genevieve went to bed very late, after talking for a long time of the future.

"Poor Albert," murmured the little star still as she closed her eyes in the very moment of gliding into the unreal life of dreams.

Mlle. Frahender had some difficulty next morning in waking the two young girls. Another maid waited on them, for the Duke had sent his G.o.ddaughter back to her family.

"Let us all three take our chocolate together on this little table.

The sun is so gentle this morning, to-day ought to have a beautiful life ahead of it. My parents come at six and we must go to meet them."

She chattered on all through the breakfast, and kissed Genevieve in overflowing happiness.

"I love to see you so, Esperance," said the old Mademoiselle. "You have scarcely seemed yourself lately, even at Penhouet. Now you are truly yourself, you are radiant with your seventeen years. It is a pleasure to look at you and to listen to you."

When the two girls came into the hall the Director, Maurice Renaud, the Marquis a.s.sistant, and the stage-manager, Louis de Ma.r.s.et, were the only others who had arrived. The manufacturer of the paper models was arranging the rock, the dragon, and the headless horse in the middle of the room. He held a brush red with dragon's blood, gave it a touch, and recoiled to admire the effect; then taking the sea weed he had gathered from real rocks, began placing it in little bunches on his pasteboard rock.

"In regard to the half white horse, a magnificent cardboard mount,"

said Maurice, flatteringly, "we shall not use it. Another tableau has been subst.i.tuted for that one."

The a.s.sistant came up to Maurice. "Can you tell me, sir, why they will not give the 'Europa and the Bull'?"

"Because Mlle. Darbois has been far from well, and the d.u.c.h.ess has requested that she shall not appear in more than two tableaux. She is to play a very difficult duet, as well, you know, and afterwards she will have to talk to all the people who crowd around her to buy flowers."

Jean was charged with excluding all those who were not in the tableaux. Albert was included in those not admitted, and he certainly would have held it against the Duke, had he still been Director; but Jean explained to him that Maurice had taken this means of making the rehearsal go more quickly. Genevieve, who was also excluded, kept the Count company, and tried to distract him; but he was in a very despondent humour. When he saw the Duke arrive so late, he said, somewhat crossly, "He is delaying the rehearsal."

"Oh! no," said Genevieve, "he does not come on until the second group, and there is no need for him to appear in costume."

When Andromeda was extended upon her rock the Duke took his position.

They were alone in their wooden frame.

"Won't you trust yourself to me?" he breathed.

"I love you with all my soul."

"My life is yours," she replied.

The scene had turned very quickly, the curtain, had fallen. Maurice came up and helped the Duke to unfasten the girl. She was radiant. He was transformed. Maurice guessed that they had spoken together, but he asked nothing.

The second tableau was given immediately. Paris was not in costume. He held the apple to the glorious Aphrodite, the picture turned, the rehearsal was over for Esperance. The Duke still had to take part in two other scenes.

When Esperance was dressed she followed Maurice's advice to go join Genevieve and Albert.

"What a relief," he exclaimed at sight of her, "I began to think it would never be over."

"Yet we did not lose any time."

"Oh, no! but now it will go more slowly. The Countess de Morgueil will have to make several repet.i.tions of her tableau of the enchantress Melusina."