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Bernhardt, Sarah, 1845-1923

"The Idol of Paris"

"
"How kind you are, Madame!" And the young girl went and kissed her
hand.
This little incident had interfered with the quiet of the evening. But
Esperance resumed her serenity, as she understood that her future
mother-in-law had quite recognized the possibility that she might
remain faithful to her art.
As to Maurice, the Baron had put him in such spirits that he was
sparkling with wit, and the dinner ended in the most delightful
camaraderie and good feeling. Esperance, before they had time to ask
her, went gaily to the piano; Albert sat down beside her and begged
that she would sing.
She agreed sweetly, on condition that her fiancee should accompany
her. Her voice was very pure and clear, and she sang a simple ballad
with exquisite taste.
"You have no middle voice," objected the Baron.
"Quite true," agreed Esperance with a silvery laugh; "you are terribly
frank."
When the girls were alone together finally, Genevieve complimented her
friend upon all that had happened.
"You were adorably gracious, dear little Countess, and I believe in
your happiness!"
"No, Genevieve," said Esperance, "I shall not be happy, I know it,
except in so far as I can give happiness. I love Countess Styvens very
deeply. I am touched by Albert's love, I see that I shall be forced by
loyalty to renounce the theatre; I shall be torn by regret, for I fear
my life will be spoiled, and I am not yet twenty!"
She was sitting on her bed, looking so forlorn that Genevieve slipped
down beside her and drew the little blonde head to her shoulder.


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