Part 5 (1/2)
However, the author knew his public, knew when to spring his surprises, how to hold the emotion in reserve until a climax of applause at the final triumph.
Esperance made her first entrance, laughing and graceful, as her role demanded. A murmur of admiration mounted from the orchestra to the balcony. Hers was such startling, such radiant fairness! Her musical, fluting voice acted like as a strange enchantment on the astonished audience. From the first moment the public was hers. The critic touched his neighbour's elbow. ”Look at Count Albert, he seems stunned!”
As the Count leaned forward to watch more intently: ”Great Heavens, do you suppose he will fall in love with her, do you believe he will really care for that little thing?” murmured the woman, mockingly.
The curtain fell amidst a shower of ”Bravos.” Esperance had to return three times before the public, which continued to applaud her unstintedly, as she smiled and blushed under her make-up. In spite of fifteen minutes' waiting, the intermission did not seem long. The occupants of the boxes were busy exchanging calls.
”She is perfectly adorable, she takes your breath. Just think of it, only sixteen and a half!”
”Do you think it is a wig?”
”Oh! no, that is her own hair--but what a revelation of loveliness!
And what a carriage!”
”But her voice above all! I do not think that I have ever heard such declamation!”
”She is still at the Conservatoire?”
”Yes.”
”The Theatre-Francaise ought to engage her immediately. They would find it would at once increase their subscription list.”
”They say that her father is very much distressed to see her in the theatre. Why there they are, the Darbois. Don't you see them, in that box far back? They are looking very pleased.”
A tall, pale man pa.s.sed by.
”Ah! there goes Count Styvens. Have you read the article he wrote in the _Debats_ this morning?”
”No, he puts me to sleep.”
”I read it; it was rather unusual.”
”What about?”
”About the fecundity of the pollen of flowers.”
The chatter ceased. The count was within hearing.
”What have you to say about Esperance Darbois?” inquired a young lady.
The count blushed vividly, an unaccustomed light gleaming in his clear eyes. ”It is too soon to pa.s.s judgment yet,” he said, losing himself in the throng again.
In the Darbois's box there was a constant coming and going of friends.
Jean Perliez joined them, his face betraying a conflict of emotions that were not lost on the father of Esperance.
”Did you see my daughter?”
”Yes. I just went to congratulate her.”
”How did you find her?”