Part 40 (1/2)
Lunch was an hour earlier as the fete was to begin at half-past two.
”Heavens,” said Mme. Styvens with perturbation, ”I shall never be ready.”
Esperance left her, happy to escape from her torturing thoughts.
”Deceit, deceit to this good woman!” Albert was waiting to lead her back. He admired his mother's gift, and spoke to her gently.
”It is just the tint of your skin,” he said, ”that gives these pearls their beautiful l.u.s.tre. They ought not to flatter themselves that it is they who embellish you!”
All this was added anguish for the girl, his mother's kindness, Albert's gay confidence, and this fete which was, soon to begin, this fete where she must show herself publicly with him whom she loved so that she would die for him, with him who loved her more than life! She repulsed with horror the ideas that came crowding into her brain. If the Chateau should burn. If she should fall down the staircase and break a leg; if Albert should be taken ill and die within the hour....
If ... if ... and a million visions raced through her brain as she went back to the Tower of Saint Genevieve. But never once did the Duke appear as a victim of any of these misfortunes which her brain was conjecturing up so busily.
Lunch was a bit disorganized. The Duke avoided looking at Esperance.
The sight of that child who loved him filled him with such emotion that he was afraid of betraying himself. The Countess de Morgueil, annoyed at seeing the two men she had sought to embroil talking together in the most courteous fas.h.i.+on, started to sharpen her claws once more.
”What a beautiful collar, Mlle. Darbois; this is the first time that you have worn it, isn't it? Count, I compliment you!”
”Mme. Styvens has just given it to me.” The Duke understood the embarra.s.sment the child felt--not yet eighteen, and forced to extricate herself from nets set by such expert hands as best she could.
At half-past two the great hall was crowded by women vying with each other in their beauty. It was a magnificent sight! Xavier Flamand went to his stand to conduct the orchestra.
He was heartily applauded and the spectacle commenced. More than two thousand people had come together for the fete. The hall could only accommodate eight hundred. Other chairs had been placed on the terrace. The tableaux began. The society a.s.sembled, appreciated a form of art which is pleasing and not fatiguing, which charms without disturbing.
The tableau of Andromeda was frantically applauded. The men could not admire enough the suppleness of Esperance's lovely body, the whiteness of her bare feet with their pink arches, the gold of her hair floating like a nimbus around the head of Andromeda, waved by the breeze as the stage turned. The women admired the Duke, so very beautiful in his gold and silver armour.
”How splendid the Duke is,” remarked the Countess to Albert. ”No one could have a prouder bearing. If I were in your place, my son, I should be jealous.”
”Perhaps I am,” said the Count, smiling.
The ”Judgment of Paris” had the same success. Everyone waited for ”Europa,” and many were really disappointed. A hundred reasons were given for its withdrawal, and none of them the true one.
The philosopher and his wife were sitting with Genevieve behind the Styvens. Sometimes the Countess would turn around to compliment Francois, and the unfortunate man, so frank, whose whole life had never known deceit, suffered cruelly. There was an intermission to set the stage for the concert. The guests pressed around the Styvens's to express their admiration for Esperance, in the most dithyrambic, the most superlative terms. The concert began. Albert had to go upon the stage to play the Liszt duet with Esperance. He begged Francois Darbois to take his place beside his mother.
When the curtain went up after the quartette of ”Rigoletto,” Esperance and Albert were seated on the long piano stool. Loud applause greeted them. The Duke was talking to Maurice in the wings and seemed a little nervous. He envied Albert at that moment for his superiority as a musician. When they finished, a great tumult demanded an encore, but Esperance had come to the end of her strength.
As the public continued to applaud, Maurice and the Duke came forward to see why they did not raise the curtain. Esperance looked at the Duke.
”Oh! no, please do not raise the curtain; my heart is beating so fast.”
Albert and the Duke supported her gently and she leaned upon them, her pretty head bending towards the Duke.
”I feel confused.”
And she closed her eyes, afraid of giving herself away. Once more in the air and she began to feel better. She breathed the little flask of ether that the Doctor held under her nose.
”This poor heart is always making scenes. Ah! dear Count, you will have to set that in order.”
The Duke had moved away. Annoyed by the insistence of the public, he told Jean Perliez to announce that Mlle. Darbois needed a little rest, and presented her compliments to the audience and excused herself from replying to the encoring. This was a real disappointment. There had been such enthusiasm for the two fiances, an enthusiasm well-earned by the inspired execution of ”Orpheus,” that the att.i.tude of this elite audience was a little indifferent to the artists who concluded the concert. The hall was half empty and several artists were too offended to appear.
Esperance went to her room with her mother and Genevieve, begging the Count to return to his mother.