Part 43 (1/2)

”Here is the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche who has come to say good-bye to you.”

Esperance turned her eyes towards the Duke.

”It is a long time since I have seen you,” she said simply.

And her voice sounded like the tone of a distant harp.

”You have been very ill!”

”I have been very ill, I believe, but I cannot remember very well. I feel as if I had had heavy blows in my brain; sometimes I hear dreadful calls and then everything is quiet again. And then sometimes I see a piece of a picture, no beginning, no end, sometimes horrible, sometimes lovely. Why, now I remember,” she spoke gently with a charming smile, ”that you are part of all my visions, but I do not know any more how, or why.... And Albert, where is he? Why does he not come? He must come and undo the collar.... Ah! my G.o.d, my G.o.d, I am wandering you see, nothing is clear yet.”

She raised her arms.

”My G.o.d, my G.o.d, have pity on me or take me at once. I do not want to lose my mind!”

She took the Duke's hand.

”Say you are not sorry that you loved me?”

”I love you always!”

She clapped her hands with a silvery laugh, ”Genevieve, Genevieve, he loves me still.”

And she hid her head on the young girl's arm. Maurice led the Duke away, overcome. He looked questioningly at the painter.

”No, she will not be light-headed long, the Doctors all agree about that, but her memory will have to come back by degrees a little at a time. She recognized you. She remembered her love and yours. That is a great step. Her youth, her love, and time will be, I believe, certain restorers.”

The Duke left soon after they had taken Esperance away.

In Belgium the Countess had prepared for her beloved daughter. This beautiful woman of forty, so charming, so handsome in her mauve mourning, had already become an old woman whose movements were ever slow and sad. Her back was bent, from constantly kneeling beside her son's grave. Her black clothes reflected the deeper gloom of her expression. And to those who had seen her a few months before, she was almost unrecognizable.

Poor little Esperance regained her health very slowly. Her mind seemed entirely clear only on one subject, the theatre. Little by little she remembered everything connected with her art. She repeated with Genevieve and Jean Perliez the scenes they had given at the Compet.i.tion. She worked hard on Musset's _On ne badine pas avec l'amour_; then busied herself with preparations for her friend's marriage. She did not know that the Duke was to be a witness.

”But,” she would often object, ”you must have two witnesses, and you have only one.”

”I have two,” said Genevieve, ”but you must guess the name of the second.”

CHAPTER x.x.x

The wedding, solemnized in the little church of Sauzen, at Belle-Isle-en-Mer, was very private. Maurice had for witnesses his uncle, Francois Darbois, and the Marquis de Montagnac, with whom he had become great friends. Doctor Potain and the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche were witnesses for Genevieve. The Dowager d.u.c.h.ess and the Princess de Bernecourt were present. The Countess Styvens had been ill for a month and could not leave Brussels. She sent a magnificent present of diamonds and pearls to Genevieve, who was filled with joy. The d.u.c.h.ess gave the young bride a splendid silver service, and the Princess brought with her some beautiful lace.

Genevieve had attached herself very strongly to the first of these sweet women, and Maurice had made a conquest of the Princess by painting her an admirable portrait.

The sight of the Duke made the invalid exuberant with joy. She constantly forgot her duties as maid of honour to draw near the loved being.

Doctor Potain watched her closely, and made a thorough examination. He knew nothing of her love for the Duke, but when the latter questioned him about her health, he said, ”There is only one chance of restoring her health. She must go back on the stage.”

The Duke jumped. ”Impossible!” he said.

”Why impossible? Her fiance is dead.”