When they assembled for dinner an hour later Esperance was not
present, and Albert began to look uneasy. But they had not long to
wait, and when she did appear she was dressed all in white, an
embroidered scarf fastened about her waist, and several orchids
arranged like a coronet in her hair. At that moment she seemed almost
supernaturally beautiful.
"What a pity that Maurice is not here! You are so lovely this
evening," said Genevieve.
"Oh," said Esperance smiling, "that is not the only reason you regret
his absence?"
Next day they were surprised to get no word from the painter to tell
them which boat he would take. It was warm and they had coffee served
in the convolvulus bower. The breeze came through an opening from the
sea.
"Look! isn't that a pretty boat?" cried out Genevieve.
A white yacht was sailing slowly towards Penhouet. The philosopher got
his glasses.
"It is the Princess's flag," he exclaimed.
"Yes, yes," agreed Albert, "it is the Belgian flag. Listen, there is
the salute."
Jean ran to the farm, calling back, "I will answer it. All right, M.
Darbois?"
The flag sank and rose three times, then the yacht headed straight for
the little bay. Genevieve climbed on a high rock and clapped her
hands. "It is he, oh! it is he."
She turned radiantly back to the party in the grove. Her "It is he"
made Albert smile. It was so charming, so sincere that they all shared
the quality of her joy.
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