After a few moments she looked at the poor orchid which had dropped on
the cold marble mantel-piece. She lifted it up carefully and placed it
in some fresh water.
Then she sat down before the vases where the two rival flowers
displayed their charms. She was bitterly conscious of being impelled
by a new inner force, an almost evil force. And she looked from the
mantel to the ivory Virgin, whose open hands seemed to be showering
blessings.
Esperance looked back to the white orchid.
"If I do not marry that man I am lost," she thought.
Almost terrified, she got up and walked about to calm herself, to
conquer the instinct which her reason told her was wrong. Still under
the strain of the emotions of the triumphal day, and to escape the
disagreeable thought the sight of the radiant gardenias provoked in
her, she began to write a long letter to the Countess Styvens. That
soothed her nervousness a little. She poured out all her heart in the
letter, for she knew that this woman loved her independently of the
love of her son--loved her entirely for her own self.
Two days later Esperance received a letter from the Director of the
Comedie-Francaise, asking her to call at four o'clock that same day at
the theatre. At the right hour she went with her mother and Mlle.
Frahender. Without delay she was at once engaged, for Madame Darbois
had the spoken and written authority of her husband to make what
arrangements her daughter should desire.
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