The Baron was overflowing with wit
and Esperance listened with delight.
After dinner the Baron de Montrieux went to the piano. He was a very
fair musician, and all the company were glad to listen to him. Albert
followed him. He was really gifted and, if fortune had not otherwise
favoured him, he could have made his name as an artist.
There was enthusiastic applause. The Count bent before Esperance, who,
in a burst of artistic appreciation, expressed her admiration.
"Then," he replied, uplifted with joy to feel that he had really
touched her, "shall we play our duet from Orpheus, Liszt's symphonic
poem, to these good friends who are, I think, quite appreciative."
"Oh! no, I should be afraid. I dare not. You forget I know so little.
I am an actress and I will recite for you if you like, but--"
The Duke came forward, and hearing the conversation joined in with
a request that was almost like pleading. Styvens held out his
angular fist to the young girl; the Duke extended a long white
hand; and so both led her to the piano. The Duke's fingers pressed
her palm lightly but with a suggestion of encouragement, while the
Count's held her like a vice that would never open. In spite of her
protestations, Esperance was installed at the piano, and Esperance
resolved to put all her best into her playing with the hope of being
able to transport her audience into the highest realms of the art that
can express great aspiration blended with the pathos of suffering.
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