She raised her arms.
“My God, my God, 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 Competition. 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.”
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 Duchess 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 Duchess
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.
