... Then, his wife? She would not give up the
theatre.... "No, nothing in the world could make up for that, far
rather death." And she smiled at the idea that she might perhaps
become a victim of the great art. She saw herself struggling against
all hardships and dying as an adored victim of circumstances,
regretted and wept by the many who loved her.
Her imaginative speculations were rudely interrupted by Marguerite
bringing in her chocolate. On the tray was a card with a little
present for the evening. Esperance read the card, and taking the
bouquet looked at it for a long time until tears veiled her pretty
eyes.
"Poor fellow," she said, "I did not think of his side of it."
For the first time Esperance absented herself from the Conservatoire
voluntarily. She had so much to do! She wanted to look beautiful,
"perfectly beautiful," she confided to Mlle. Frahender.
"I feel that something great is in store for me in the early coming
days."
She took particular pains with her toilette, and looking at herself in
the tall glass of her wardrobe, reflected, "I do not want to love
Count Styvens. Then I ought not to want to be any more attractive
to-night than usual. Am I a wicked girl? My cousin Maurice says,
'Coquetry is the cowardly woman's weapon, and I love you, little
cousin, because you are not a coquette.'"
The mirror showed a lovely girl gowned in pale blue. The shoulders,
slender and rounded, seemed to emerge from clear water made heaven
blue by the reflection of the sky.
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