As she was leaving Sardou stopped her in the vestibule. "Tell me,
please, Mademoiselle, are you related to the professor of philosophy?"
"He is my father," the girl answered very proudly.
Delaunay had arisen. "You are the daughter of Francois Darbois! We
are, indeed, proud to be able to present our compliments to you. You
have an extraordinary father. Please tell him that his daughter has
won every vote."
Esperance read so much respect and sincerity in his expression that
she curtsied as she replied, "My father will be very happy that these
words have been spoken by anyone whom he admires as sincerely as M.
Delaunay."
Then she went quickly on her way.
As soon as they were back on the Boulevard Raspail and home, Esperance
and her mother moved towards the library. Marguerite, the maid,
stopped them. "Monsieur has gone out. He was so restless. Is
Mademoiselle satisfied?"
"I was; but I am not any more, Marguerite, since papa is not here. Was
he feeling badly?"
"Well, he was not very cheerful, Mademoiselle, but I should not say
that there was anything really the matter with him."
Mother and daughter started. Someone was coming upstairs. Esperance
ran to the door and fell into the arms of that dearly-loved parent. He
kissed her tenderly. His eyes were damp.
"Come, come, dear, that I may tell you...."
"Your lunch is ready," announced Marguerite.
"Thank you," replied Esperance; "papa, mama, and I, we are all dying
of hunger.
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