The Idol of Paris Part 19

When he was left alone the Count examined his surroundings. His simple chamber seemed to him sumptuous. He smelt the flowers on the mantelpiece, half suspecting that they were an attention of the young girls. The wreath suspended from the ceiling made him smile. It had been hung there in his honour, there could be no doubt about that.

There was a knock on the door. Marguerite entered, followed by the farmer bringing the trunk and the osier basket.

He stopped the old servant as she was going out. "Wait a moment and help me, please."

He cut the string which held the basket and took out four bouquets as fresh as if they had just been gathered.

"See, Marguerite, the name is pinned on each bouquet; be so good as to give them to the ladies."

At half-past one the Count appeared walking up and down before the door of the dining-room. He did not want to be the first one to enter.

Maurice joined him.

"I would love to see the portrait of your cousin," said Albert.

"I will show it to you after lunch."

"Is it finished?"

"Yes; but I still have some retouching to do to the background, and I shall be glad to have your advice upon it. It is not perhaps exactly necessary, yet every time that I look at it, I feel the need of some slight change."

Genevieve and Esperance came in together. The contrast of this double entry was striking. Genevieve, dark, with regular features, framed by a ma.s.s of heavy black hair; Esperance, sh.e.l.l pink, aureoled by her wavy blonde hair. Genevieve was so beautiful that Maurice was moved.

Esperance was so dazzling that the Count mentally praised G.o.d at the sight of her. He was warmly thanked for his pretty flowers, several blossoms of which each girl had pinned to her dress.

When the fish appeared, Maurice rose gravely.

"This magnificent fish, sir," he said to Albert Styvens, "was caught by me for you; it is for you to decide whether to share it with us or whether you prefer to eat it alone."

The young attache arose and with more humour than they expected from him, took the platter and bowed with it towards Mme. Darbois. The conversation raced merrily along, and they were soon disputing about sports. The Count learned that Esperance rode on horseback. He was delighted, and inquired if he would be able to procure a mount. Jean offered his, but the Count, who knew of his love for Esperance and divined what a joy these excursions must be to him, refused this sacrifice. The farmer's wife, who helped to wait at table and was ignorant of social customs, forthwith entered the conversation.

"Ah! if Madame will permit me, I can bring you to the Commandant, who has a fine horse to sell."

"You may have no fish this evening," said the professor genially. "As I was away meeting you, I could not put out my net."

"But we did it, father," said Esperance, "and I hope that Count Styvens will have some magnificent luck. We go fis.h.i.+ng this evening."

"So, you are a fisherwoman too, Mademoiselle?"

"We fish every morning, and we shall be very glad to have you join us," said the girl quietly.

After lunch the Count joined the four young people in a ramble along the cliffs. Esperance and Genevieve went arm in arm, the three young men followed; with Styvens in a dream of delight, happier than he had ever been in his life. Maurice was watching Genevieve every day seeing her more beautiful, and abandoning himself without much effort to this new pa.s.sion. Jean Perliez contemplated Esperance and smiled sadly, if gladly too, at the thought that she was going to be delivered from the dangerous Duke de Morlay-La-Branche. They sat down on a high rock overlooking the little beach of Penhouet and remained silent for a while.

"How very beautiful it is," murmured Albert at last. "You love the sea, do you not, Mlle. Esperance?"

"More than anything else in nature. I love great plains too, but I like them best because they are like the sea when they billow under the breeze."

"You don't like the mountains at all?" asked Genevieve.

"Oh! no, I stifle there. I dream at night that they are pressing in to strangle me. I went to Cauterets with mama after she had bronchitis. I spent all my time climbing to get a view of a horizon and breathe better. As soon as mama was well the Doctor sent us away saying that it was not good for me."

"And the forest?" asked Albert.

"The forest hides the sky too much. Nothing makes me as sad as the deep woods."

"And the lakes, cousin, what do you say of them?"

"A lake makes me s.h.i.+ver. I feel constrained before a lake as before a person whom I know to be false and perfidious. Of course, the sea is dangerous, but no one is ignorant of its caprices, its violence, its tragic love bouts with the wind. The sea is open, whether in laughter or fury. See, look off there," she said, standing upon the rock. "This evening it is calm as a lake, and still the waves are all rippling, preparing for an a.s.sault on this rock! It is so immensely alive, even in its great reserve!"

The silhouette of the young girl, cut against the horizon, was blurred by the pa.s.sing night mist. She seemed a flower blooming by moon-light.

Maurice said in a low tone to Genevieve, "See if you can realize this picture. It is beyond the power of any painter."

"One of the aboriginals might have succeeded. He would not have been guided by any of the conventions that are introduced in all the arts and bar the way to the realism of the ideal, which is dear to all true artists."

"The realism of the ideal is very true, but how are you going to make amateurs or critics feel that?"

"Oh!" replied Genevieve, with much conviction, "There is always an amateur of the beautiful, there is always a critic who describes his emotion sincerely, it is for them that I give my tears when I am on the stage."

Esperance dropped on her knees, and taking her friend's head in her hands, "You are always right, Genevieve," she said. "It is a great gift to have you for a friend."

"My little cousin speaks truth," concluded Maurice.

Genevieve stretched out her hand with a smile to thank him. The young man kept the contact of that charming strong hand and kissed it with more warmth than convention required.

"Monsieur Maurice," murmured the girl with trembling lips. But she could not voice a reproach. She got up to hide her blushes.

"Is not this the time for us to go back? The air is getting sharp, and you have no wraps, Esperance."

Count Styvens stood up to his full height and stretched his hands to his little idol to help her up, but she had withdrawn before the two arms stretched towards her, and recoiled in a kind of fright.

"Did I startle you?"

"Oh! No," she said nervously, "But I was dreaming, I was far away...."

"Where were you, cousin?"

"I don't know. Thoughts are sometimes so scattered that it is hardly possible to give a clear impression."

Putting her hands in the Count's she jumped lightly to her feet. The young men led the girls back to the farm, and silence descended upon the Five Divisions of the Globe.

But love made every one of these young creatures somewhat unsettled, and it was long before either of them slept. Esperance and Genevieve talked low, and long silences broke their confidences. Count Styvens had brought cigarettes for Maurice and Jean. All three stayed and talked a long time in the painter's room. Alone with men, Styvens lost all the timidity that sometimes made him awkward. His broad and cultivated mind, his humanitarian philosophy unaffected by his religious beliefs, the sincere simplicity with which he expressed himself, made a great impression on Jean and Maurice.

"That man," said the latter to his friend, "is of another epoch, an epoch when he would have been a hero or a martyr!"

"Perhaps he may yet be both," murmured Jean.

CHAPTER XIX