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Bernhardt, Sarah, 1845-1923

"The Idol of Paris"

At this moment I
am calm, happy, and my art is like that bright star. It brightens
everything for me without troubling me.... I do not love Count
Styvens. Oh!" she went on in answer to a movement from Genevieve, "I
like him as a friend, but I do not love him. I know he is a gallant
gentleman, a fine musician, and a splendid athlete; I recognize that
he is very generous and that he is entirely unselfish--for these I
greatly respect him, but these qualities alone have nothing to do with
love."
"He is a very good-looking man," said Genevieve.
"His arms are too long and he has not any decided colour. His face,
his hair, his eyes are all of a neutral tint which you cannot define."
"But handsome men are very rare!"
Esperance did not answer.
"There is the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche, too. Do you like him any
better?"
The moon shone full on Esperance's face.
"Great Heavens, dearie," exclaimed Genevieve quickly, "you are not in
love with that man, I hope."
"Don't speak so loud," said Esperance, frightened. "No, I am not in
love with the Duke, but he bothers me, I confess. He is continually in
my mind, and the thought of him makes the blood rush to my heart. When
he is present I can struggle against him, but I have no strength
against the picture of him I so often conjure up. That dominates me
more than he can do himself. That seems innocent enough, but I know
very well all the same, that I find every excuse for dwelling on the
thought of him.


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