“Albert will be here this evening by the second
boat. What time is it?” She showed a little
emotion, but only a little, though she felt deeply.
She looked towards the sun.
“It can’t be four yet.”
Jean took out his watch.
“Twenty to four,” he said.
“The boat can’t get here before five-thirty.
Quick, quick, run, Jean, and ask to have some conveyance
got ready. I must go and tell my father and get
his permission to go with you and Genevieve to meet
my fiancee. Ah! what good luck!” she said
with a long breath, “What good luck!”
Francois Darbois was delighted for his daughter to
go and meet Albert, and departed so radiantly that
he said to his wife, “I believe she is getting
to love this brave Albert?”
Genevieve, who had heard, as had also Jean, said to
the young man in a low voice, “But, my God!
suppose she is beginning to love the Duke?”
The boat approached the little quay of Palais slowly
with Count Styvens standing well forward, his tall
figure silhouetted against the grey of the sea.
He caught sight of Esperance immediately, as she stood
up in the brake, waving her handkerchief. Great
happiness was in his heart, and in his haste to be
ashore, he went to assist them to lay down the gangplank,
and was at the carriage in a second, kissing most
tenderly the hand Esperance held out to him. A
great basket was placed on the seat. The girls
blushed with pleasure, for a sweet odour was wafted
to them from it.
All the way home Esperance heard from Albert in detail
all that had happened to him since she had last seen
him. She talked incessantly, as if to drown her
thoughts under a sea of nonsense. At the farm
the young man could see the pleasure they all showed
at his return. Of course he was somewhat astonished
to learn that Maurice was absent with the Duchess,
for he had not yet heard of the events that had happened
during his absence.
They all gathered together in the dining-room.
The Count took out of his pocket a little case, and
asking Esperance to give him her hand, slipped on
to her middle finger a magnificent engagement ring.
Somehow her hand went cold as death as Albert held
it, and her face contracted strangely.
“Do you regret your word already, Esperance?”
he asked in a nervous, low voice.
“No, no, Albert,” she said quickly, nervously
twisting the ring on her finger, “but this is
a very serious moment, and you know that I incline
to taking things seriously here,” and she put
her hand across her heart. Then she smiled, pressed
his hand, and showed the ring to Genevieve. They
all examined and admired the beautiful jewel.
When the philosopher turned to praise it Albert had
disappeared.
The basket was opened revealing a bouquet of magnificent
white orchids, marvellously fresh, held in a white
scarf with embroidered ends.
