"
Esperance slept badly and woke late. The old Mademoiselle was sitting
beside her, spectacles across her nose, reading the papers. Her kind
face was beaming. She was cutting out and putting aside certain
articles, then she pinned them in order, all ready to send to M. and
Madame Darbois.
The young girl was touched, and raising herself in bed, flung her arms
about the old lady.
"What a dear you are, and how I love you!"
Mlle. Frahender at that moment had her reward for all the little
sacrifices she had made for her pupil.
The critics were dithyrambic in their discourses concerning the new
"Dona Sol," but the casual reporters were, as always, indiscreet, and
disguised the truth under little prevarications, fantastic and
suggestive. After having read two or three of the articles, Esperance
pushed them all aside. She took the name of all the critics, and wrote
them little notes of thanks, while Mlle. Frahender added the
addresses. In the neighbouring room a discussion was going on between
her knight-attendants. Esperance did not gather its cause, although
certain phrases were audible.
"No, I tell you," Maurice was saying, "if it is worth while at all, I
must be the one."
"I could always demand a correction," replied Jean.
"Correction of what? It is simply one of those ambiguous phrases which
are used every day. Why notice it?"
The sound of Esperance's voice cut short their discussion.
Pages:
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83