Albert's death. Dear Albert, who frightened me so much sometimes, that I felt my teeth chattering! Do you know how he died? n.o.body seems to know! Genevieve dear, the pearl collar strangles me sometimes. I promised not to take it off, but I must take it off to play '_Camille_' in Musset's play. Mustn't I? She cannot wear pearls at the convent? When I promised that, I did not expect ever to appear on the stage any more; but now! Besides, when I am on the stage I am not myself at all. Esperance stays behind in the dressing-room and '_Camille_' comes forth. Then the collar? Ask the Duke, without telling him that I asked you, what I should do. This collar seems to me such a heavy chain, so heavy and sometimes so cold. I must stop this letter, for you see the confusion is coming back again. I am a little frightened! I must be trembling, does it not show in my writing? It is little Mademoiselle's pen. I embrace you with all the strength of my joy in your happiness.--Esperance."

The writing changed.

"I must make Esperance stop. She has been wandering again as she writes. Her pulse is very quick. I must tell her father. _Au revoir,_ dear girl, and come back soon; for you are the brightness and peace she longs for. My regards to your husband.--Eleanore Frahender."

This letter made Maurice, his wife and the Duke very anxious.

"She must in some way be prevented from seeing the Countess Styvens,"

said Genevieve, "but how are we to manage that?"

They decided to shorten their stay in Italy by five days.

Esperance was to appear on the twentieth of December, about fifteen days after her letter reached them. All the elegant world of Paris, artistic, sensation-hunting, was waiting with delight for the appearance of the little heroine, the idol of the public. Count Styvens's death in a duel, slain by a well-known admirer of Esperance, had caused a great deal of ink to be spilled. But the devotion of the Countess towards the girl who would have been her daughter, the denials of the witnesses to the most intimate friends, asking if ...

really ... between ourselves ... was not there something? ... deceived the most suspicious. All these "fors" and "againsts" had kindled the curiosity of the public, and the general sympathy was strongly in favour of the unconscious cause of the great modern mystery. The notice, announcing the first appearance of Esperance Darbois in _On ne badine pas avec l'amour_ drew an enormous crowd. The house was entirely sold out several days in advance. Many who could not get admission waited outside the theatre to get news during the intervals.

The corridors were full of French and foreign reporters.

Behind the scenes Esperance stood looking at herself in the mirror. It was almost time for the curtain to go up. Dressed in the convent robe, the strings of pearls was still about her neck. Should she unclasp it, should she not? If they went with her on the stage would she not be betraying her art; would they not clutch and strangle her, strangle "_Camille_," until Esperance had to come back in her place? And if she cast it aside, her loyalty, her promise? Must she wear fetters to keep faith? Oh, Albert, Albert! Oh, these dark shadows, these groping dark confusions where she so often strayed. Where was rest? Or peace? And joy, the joy of the theatre, would that, too, be taken away? She swayed a little and longed with all her strength for a force not her own to enter in. She was too weak to fight against her own Destiny.

She found it. A hint of it came first in the scent of gardenia flowers, sweet and strong and penetrating, compelling and agreeable to the senses. Then the Duke's strong arms were about her, and she sank gladly back as if she were falling into a flood of light.

But his swift words brought her back.

"Esperance, my darling, we have no time to lose. Come with me. The Countess Styvens is dying. She would not send for you, she would not spoil your triumph. But she can absolve you. She can loose the pearls.

You can remember the other request Albert made you then, his dying wish, my living one. Come with me, be her daughter to the last, and then, my love, to Italy, where we will find you health and strength, and give you new life for your future as my wife."

THE END