"Think also of your father, who at last will be able to realize his
dream of becoming a member of the Academy. You know as well as I do
that he has every chance of being elected, but he will never present
himself as long as you are on the stage. You know the straightlaced,
old-fashioned ways of that assembly...."
"But most of them are poets and dramatic writers," replied Esperance.
"Why should my father care to belong to the Academy at all?"
As Genevieve rebuked her, her eyes filled with tears. "You see,
Genevieve, I am becoming ungrateful. My nature, that I believed so
frank and straightforward, seems to get tangled in unexpected twists
trying to go the right way. Yes, yes, you are right; I must save
myself from myself."
Just then the maid came into the room.
"Monsieur wants to see Mademoiselle. Madame and Countess Styvens are
with him."
"Very well; say I will come immediately."
Esperance threw her arms around her friend's neck.
"If you could only know how I thank you."
She went to obey the summons of her parents, resolved and comforted by
her friend's words. Her father gave her in a few words the Countess's
message. She went forward, very much agitated, her lips trembling, her
voice uncertain--"Madame, I thank God for giving me another mother who
is so good, so lovable."
The Countess drew her to her, and held her in a long embrace. The
saintly woman was praying that happiness should descend on this little
creature who was to be her daughter.
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