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Bernhardt, Sarah, 1845-1923

"The Idol of Paris"

Your affectionately devoted,
Maurice."
"It seems to me," said Genevieve, as she left the dining-room with
Esperance, "that your cousin has arranged everything very well, and
that you ought to be quite happy and content."
"Oh! I know very well that I shall be taken care of, but how can I
struggle against the tumultuous ideas that assail me? The vision of
the Duke has haunted me ever since Maurice left. I have never seen the
chateau, but I am sure that I shall recognize it. I would like to fall
ill with some complaint that would send me to sleep and sleep. Oh! if
I could get a little ugly for a little while, just long enough to make
the Duke lose interest in me, I should be so glad. Dear Genevieve,
can't you give me a little dose of the elixir of your happiness. I
need it sorely just now."
The girls had been walking as they talked down to the little beach at
Penhouet. The sea was at low tide, and the golden sand, dried by the
sun, offered them a restful couch. They stretched themselves out upon
it, and Esperance soon fell asleep. Jean Perliez appeared on the crest
of the little hill that hides the bay from the sightseeker. Genevieve
signed to him to come down quietly. He had a telegram, a dispatch from
Belgium. He pinned it to Esperance's hat lying on the sand at her
side, and dropping down close to Genevieve, began to talk in low
tones. For both he and Genevieve were uneasy concerning their little
friend.


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