Part 25 (1/2)
”Do you believe, my dear, that I ought to let Esperance write to the Countess, as she proposes? I fear that she is making this sacrifice to gratify my vanity.”
”Francois!” exclaimed Mme. Darbois indignantly.
”My pride, if you prefer it,” he said. ”But what is such a satisfaction in comparison with the happiness of a life? To me it seems very unjust!”
Germaine adored her husband and her daughter, but she believed more, than in anything in the world, in the n.o.ble genius of the philosopher.
”Esperance's sacrifice,” she said, ”is very slight. She is making a superb marriage into one of the n.o.blest, richest families in Belgium.
Albert wors.h.i.+ps the ground she walks on. The Countess will be more than indulgent to her. She is realizing the most perfect future a young girl can hope for. I see nothing to regret, because she is making a slight concession to her father.”
Francois looked a little sadly at this mother who had never comprehended her daughter's psychology. He knew that for this sweet woman the happiness of life began with her husband and ended with him.
He did not want to argue and rose, saying, ”I must do some work.”
Ho kissed the unlined forehead of his beloved wife, and then as he was leaving the room added, ”Tell Esperance I should like to see her letter before she sends it.”
Esperance sat at her desk in her own room, but she sat with her head in her hands, unable to begin her letter. Presently Genevieve came in.
”Is anything the matter, dear?”
Esperance told her what had just happened downstairs.
”I have learned once more that all your reasonings and counsels are always wise, dear sister.... I am sitting trying how to write to the Countess to tell her that I am not going back to the stage!”
Genevieve kissed her. Esperance let her head fall on her friend's bosom, and raising her eyes to her face, said slowly, ”But oh! I have not the courage.”
Genevieve knelt beside the desk, and dipping the pen in the ink, put a fresh sheet of paper before Esperance, saying with a laugh, ”Mlle., get on with your task. I am the school mistress to see that you write properly!”
The smile she brought to Esperance's lips chased away the nebulous uncertainties, and so she wrote her letter to her dear little ”Countess-mama,” as she had called her since her engagement. When her mother came with the philosopher's message and saw the letter, she was delighted with the phrasing and thanked her daughter warmly for the joy it would give her father.
”Ah! mama, I believe that I am the happiest of the three Darbois, dear ridiculous mama!” And she gave her a quick embrace.
Life was again travelling the simple, daily country round. It was after lunch, three days after Esperance had written her letter.
”Why so pensive, little daughter? Where were your thoughts?”
Esperance jumped up at this question from her father.
”I was dreaming. I am so sorry. I was in Belgium, near the Countess Styvens when my letter would be brought in to her, for, as nearly as I can make out, it ought to arrive to-day.”
”No,” said M. Darbois, ”that letter has not been delivered; it is still in my desk.”
Their faces expressed the great astonishment that they felt.
”You did not like it, papa?”
”Very much, very much. It is quite good--and--and pathetic.”
”Then, darling papa?”
”I want to talk with you a little more before you send it.”