“You were absorbed in a philosophic discussion
with the Doctor, and the Duke was not speaking very
loud.”
“Can you not be more definite?” asked
Francois Darbois a little nervously.
Jean intervened, “May I say something?”
“Certainly, my boy.”
“Well then. I heard the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche
make fun of the honesty of Count Styvens, and at that
Esperance abruptly broke off the conversation.”
Francois turned towards Esperance.
“That is so,” she said, kissing her father,
“so tell me that you are not angry with your
little daughter.”
For answer he kissed her tenderly.
“Ah! if I could find a way to shelter you from
so much admiration, from being so much sought after.
Yet I don’t know very well how to defend you.”
“Do not reproach yourself, dear father, you
have been so good, so trusting. I will never
betray that confidence, and my godfather will be obliged
to consume all his own horrid prophecies.”
When Esperance’s portrait was finished, the
family could not admire it enough. Maurice who
was for himself, as for others, a severe critic, said,
“It is the first time that I have been satisfied
with my own work. Little cousin, you have brought
me luck, so if my uncle will permit me I am going
to teach you to ride a horse.”
“My goodness!” said Madame Darbois, “still
more anxiety for us!”
But Esperance clasped her hands with delight.
The first riding lessons were a source of new joy
for Esperance. Maurice was an excellent rider,
and his passion for horses had made him expert in
handling them. He had chosen a horse for his cousin
from a stable in the Cotes-du-Nord, the private stable
of the Count Marcus de Treilles, the horse had been
secured at a bargain on account of some blemishes
of his coat. He was very gentle, however, and
the Darbois soon felt confidence in him. Doctor
Potain had recommended a great deal of physical exercise
for the patient, to counteract the excess of mental
work which had weakened her heart.
“Riding, fishing, walking, tennis,” the
great specialist had said to Francois Darbois, “will
be the best thing for your daughter, and,” pressing
his hand, “let her get married as soon as possible.”
Long excursions about the little island became for
Esperance the most delightful part of their country
life. Very often M. and Madame Darbois, Mlle.
Frahender and Genevieve Hardouin would follow in the
brake. They carried their lunch with them and
ate it sometimes in the little wood of Loret, sometimes
on the cliffs amidst the broom, furze and asters with
their golden flowers and silver foliage.
The philosopher’s fishing fleet was composed,
as he laughingly said, of a blue boat with blue sails,
and a little Swedish whaler. Francois went every
evening about six o’clock to set the nets with
the farmer’s eldest son, whose portrait Maurice
intended doing for the following Salon. All the
little colony gathered at nine in the morning on the
beach, ready with baskets to bear away the catch.
