"Leave my election alone. They won't even nominate me, and I shall not
worry."
Mme. Darbois came in and Francois pretended to disclose the news to
her. She assumed surprise. To hide her emotion, she took her daughter
in a long embrace.
Maurice had taken his young wife to Italy, to show her in its most
harmonious setting the most beautiful aspirations of art towards the
ideal. The Duke de Morlay travelled there with them, adoring Italy as
does every devotee of art. There was not a corner of this rare country
that he did not know.
The sojourn of the young couple in Italy was pure enchantment. Maurice
was constantly surprised by the intellectual strength of his
companion. Like most artists he had an indulgent scorn for what so
many call and think the worldly class. When he originally met the Duke
he had recognized his cultivation, and found that his eclecticism was
exact, profound, and not the superficial veneer he had at first
supposed. He realized that men of the world do not vaunt their
knowledge, though it is often far deeper than that of certain artists
who never go below the depths of but one art: their own.
Almost every day Maurice received a letter or telegram giving him news
of his cousin. The advice of Doctor Potain seemed to be justifying
itself. Every day Esperance began to recover her health and spirits.
She was rehearsing at the Comedie, and her debut in _On ne badine
pas avec l'amour_ was announced for the next month.
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