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Bernhardt, Sarah, 1845-1923

"The Idol of Paris"


"I would rather not listen to you, for my duty as a man of honour
would compel me to speak, should it be necessary."
The Duke sat still and reflected for a minute.
"Very well, you shall judge when you have heard me, what you think you
had better do. I leave you free. I love your cousin Esperance: she is
the fiancee of Count Albert, but she is not in love with him."
Maurice had thrown away his cigarette and leaning forward, his hands
clasped, his eyes on the ground, listened intently.
"I have paid her in a way attentions for a year; I admit it was wrong
for I had no definite intentions. A visit to Penhouet, however,
completely changed my opinion of this little maiden. The atmosphere of
beauty, of calm in which she lived, the liking and respect I felt for
M. and Madame Darbois, and the free play of intelligence and taste I
there discovered, made a deep impression on me and I could not forget.
The ordinary life of society, so artificial, so devoid of real
interest, this life that eats up hours and weeks and months in
futilities, in nothings that come to nothing, all this became suddenly
quite burdensome to me. I continuously thought of the adorable child I
had seen at Penhouet, brighter than all else in that radiant place. I
was travelling, and did not learn of the accident to your cousin and
Count Styvens until I returned to Paris. Then I wrote for news."
"I came back here to my old aunt's, my nearest relative.


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