She breathed again! Marguerite and the maid carried the
basket into the salon; then the young girl went into the library with
her mother. The newspaper clippings were spread out on the table, and
the two famous trinkets had been taken from their cases. Madame
Darbois clasped and unclasped her hands.
"Oh! but they are too beautiful, simply too beautiful!" she said.
And the philosopher, half in indignation, half in indulgence,
exclaimed, "My poor child, you can not possibly wear such jewels at
your age!"
"Ah!" said Esperance with disappointment, "I cannot wear them?"
"Why, no, it is out of the question."
"You will be able to wear them in a play, at the theatre," said Madame
Darbois, but her tone lacked assurance, for she did not know whether
that would be possible either.
M. Darbois had turned his attention to the notices, having pushed
aside the descriptive paragraphs. He read them and gave them to his
wife.
"Your godfather came to complain to us of Maurice, of Jean Perliez,
and of yourself. You all displeased him; tell us just what happened?"
Esperance recounted the happenings with perfect impartiality, adding
honestly that she had done nothing to try to persuade her godfather to
remain. The philosopher smiled.
"Very well, let us forget all that. We will take up our happy life
again, that has been interrupted by your triumphs," he added sadly.
And then, as the women were preparing to leave the library, "Tell me,
Esperance, who is the Countess Styvens?"
"A great lady at court, and oh! so charming.
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