The Idol of Paris by Sarah Bernhardt

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He repeated his story twenty times, and by next morning all Paris knew
that the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche had been received by Esperance like
any other gentleman, that Count Albert Styvens had been noncommittal,
and that Jean Perliez had been overcome. The young journalist wrote a
very suggestive article concerning this little scene, highly
ornamented with phrases that would attract attention; but
unfortunately the editor refused to print it. The Duke did not care
for notoriety, and was, moreover, a renowned fencer, so the editor
exercised his discretion. Count Styvens belonged to the foreign
diplomacy and was very particular, and no one had infringed on his
privacy since the little affair in the Brussels music hall. That left
only Jean Perliez, who was merely sincere and pathetic; the public did
not want to read that kind of thing! So much for the little
journalist.

Countess Styvens was spending a month in Paris, staying at the
Legation with the Princess de Bernecourt, who always had a suite ready
for her. There was to be a grand opening ceremony of the Opera season,
and for many years the Styvens had never missed the first nights of
the Opera or the Comedie-Francaise.

One evening at dinner the conversation turned upon music, and a guest
regretted the mechanical performance of the musical prodigies at the
Conservatoire.

"It gives them a certain amount of cleverness, or technique, or
whatever you like to call it, but there is no flair of the ideal, and
often no important personality."

"I know a young artist," said Albert Styvens, "who plays with her
whole soul, and I, who really love music, find her far ahead of all
your prodigies."

Almost a sensation was produced among the guests.

The Countess said with her sweet smile, "I see that they tease you
here as well as at Brussels."

"That does not affect me, mother, you see; I remain faithful to my
ideal."

"Never mind, tell us the name of this new discovery."

"Her name is Esperance Darbois," said Albert rising, resting his two
hands on the table. Then, having produced his effect, he sat down
again.

"What! she is a good musician too?"

"Excellent," replied Albert, "and I will wager that whoever hears her
will agree with me.

"How is it possible to hear her? She does not play at the concerts.
But tell us how did you contrive to hear her?" demanded the Princess.

"I study with her father, Francois Darbois, so I have become a friend
of the family. They asked me to dinner once, and I was early enough to
hear Mlle. Esperance play. After dinner we played a very difficult
duet together. She had absolute command of her execution and her
emotion."

A young attache murmured to an amiable dowager, "I am afraid that they
have completely taken him in."

Count Albert sprang to his feet.

"I am not willing that you should try to belittle this family whom you
do not know. Francois Darbois, the philosopher, is a fine character,
of unparalleled honour and integrity: his wife has never frequented
the world where people are 'taken in,' as you say, and as for Mlle.
Esperance ... so much the better if you do not know her?"

The Duke de Morlay-La-Branche, sitting beside the Princess, said to
her, loud enough for all to hear, "Albert Styvens is entirely right:
they are people of a very different order. They are a very refreshing
trio for Parisian society."

Everyone kept quiet and listened to what the Duke had to say. It was
well known that he was attracted by Esperance's beauty and talent, and
it was also known that he was a sceptic, a railer, not easy for anyone
to "take in." The attache, not knowing how to back out of his awkward
position, apologized for having spoken in jest. He had heard ... but
the world is so unjust ... etc., etc. No one listened.

"For my part," said the Princess, "I see only one way to put to the
proof the statements of the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche and Count
Albert, and that is to ask the Darbois family to dinner. Afterwards,
Albert must undertake to persuade this adorable little comedian to
reveal her ability as a musician."

The Minister was most agreeable and said, "All our guests this evening
must be present at the dinner."

Albert Styvens was consumed with joy. And the Duke did not attempt to
conceal his satisfaction.

The only difficulty was to find a suitable excuse for inviting the
Darbois. Chance proved itself the Count's accomplice. In conversation
with the professor the next day the Count was told that there would be
no lesson on the following Tuesday, because the professor was to
deliver an address on the question of the hour--"Can philosophy and
religion evolve without danger in the same mind?" The conference was
to be held at the home of Madame Lamarre, the wife of a fashionable
painter. Albert knew that his mother was a great friend of this lady.
He told the Countess and the Princess, and it was agreed that they
should both go to this conference. When the Professor was presented it
would be easy for the Princess to say that Countess Styvens was
anxious to meet again her little friend of Brussels, then the
invitation could easily follow. Everything happened according to the
Count's plans.

Francois Darbois had a great success; the Catholic party owed him
recognition for his noble dissertation on the role of philosophy in
religion. He was a fervent follower of the author of "The Genius of
Christianity."

The Princess de Bernecourt presented sincere compliments to the
affable philosopher. The Countess Styvens presented herself to Madame
Darbois, who thanked her for her special kindness to Esperance, who
regretted that she had not herself been able to thank her
sufficiently.

"Now won't you," said the charming Princess, "do us the honour to come
to dinner at the Legation next week? That will give the Countess and
myself a chance to renew our acquaintance with your adorable
daughter."

Francois, being appealed to, accepted the invitation for the following
Tuesday.

"My husband will be delighted, dear M. Darbois, to meet you; he is one
of your most faithful readers," said the Princess.

On their return the Darbois found Esperance very anxious to learn the
result of the conference. Francois said very simply as he kissed his
daughter, "You would have been satisfied...."

But Madame Darbois, made loquacious by her husband's success,
recounted everything at length and the triumph obtained by her husband
in every detail.

The invitation to dine at the Belgian Minister's rather dismayed, in
truth distressed, Esperance. Her joy in her father's success was
diminished by this prospect. Count Styvens was certainly not unaware
of this unexpected invitation.

"You are quite right, little daughter," went on Madame Darbois, "the
mother of the young Count is perfectly delightful. She is especially
anxious to see you again."

Esperance breathed deeply, as if to draw more strength from within.
She knew her parents were flattered at the idea that the attentions of
the young Count could only end in an offer of marriage. They were not
ignorant that she did not love him, but they hoped that she would in
time be touched by his respectful affection. The philosopher and his
wife had often talked of this prospect with each other. They did not
want to cause any pain to their cherished daughter. M. Darbois had
already had to give up all idea of Jean Perliez, for he had begged him
not to speak of him to Esperance. She was his goddess; he adored her
but felt unworthy of her. With resignation Francois charged his wife
to find out Esperance's state of mind, but these were futile efforts.
Madame Darbois could never approach the burning question; she hovered
round it with such uncertainty that Esperance never for an instant
suspected her mother's real motive in the long talks they had
together.

CHAPTER XIV

A radiant sun woke Esperance on the following Tuesday. Her thoughts,
always on the future, refused to be subjugated by the confused anguish
she felt which almost stifled her. Yet this evening was sure to be one
of importance in her young life! Had the Count said anything to her
mother? She rejected the idea that he could think of her as capable of
becoming his mistress.... Then, his wife? She would not give up the
theatre.... "No, nothing in the world could make up for that, far
rather death." And she smiled at the idea that she might perhaps
become a victim of the great art. She saw herself struggling against
all hardships and dying as an adored victim of circumstances,
regretted and wept by the many who loved her.

Her imaginative speculations were rudely interrupted by Marguerite
bringing in her chocolate. On the tray was a card with a little
present for the evening. Esperance read the card, and taking the
bouquet looked at it for a long time until tears veiled her pretty
eyes.

"Poor fellow," she said, "I did not think of his side of it."

For the first time Esperance absented herself from the Conservatoire
voluntarily. She had so much to do! She wanted to look beautiful,
"perfectly beautiful," she confided to Mlle. Frahender.

"I feel that something great is in store for me in the early coming
days."

She took particular pains with her toilette, and looking at herself in
the tall glass of her wardrobe, reflected, "I do not want to love
Count Styvens. Then I ought not to want to be any more attractive
to-night than usual. Am I a wicked girl? My cousin Maurice says,
'Coquetry is the cowardly woman's weapon, and I love you, little
cousin, because you are not a coquette.'"

The mirror showed a lovely girl gowned in pale blue. The shoulders,
slender and rounded, seemed to emerge from clear water made heaven
blue by the reflection of the sky. The hair, so blonde it dazzled,
made a radiant frame for the lovely face. The red mouth, half open,
the white teeth, the wilful little chin, lightly cleft by an oblong
dimple, made this delightful little maiden one of the most dangerous
weapons that love ever fashioned.

When Francois and his family were announced in the salon of the
Princess, the Minister hastened forward to convey Madame Darbois to a
seat, after presenting her to the Dowager Duchess de Castel-Montjoie,
Mlle. Jeanne Tordeine, of the Theatre-Francaise, and several other
guests.

Esperance's entrance roused the curiosity of all. The Duke de
Morlay-La-Branche, after conversing for a few minutes to Francois
Darbois, whom he had met several weeks before, came up to the young
girl as she was standing before the Countess Styvens, replying to
the compliments the charming lady was paying her.

"I am told that you are quite a clever musician." Esperance looked up
to reproach the Count for his indiscretion in speaking about her
playing, but her eyes met the ardent gaze of the Duke. She was
agitated, thinking, "How handsome he is, and I had never noticed it."

"Yes indeed, Mademoiselle," he continued in his easy, agreeable
manner, "we hear that you have captivated Count Styvens with your
playing, and as perhaps you know he is recognized as being quite a
dilettante authority."

Esperance strived to speak, but nervousness prevented her. She sat
down quickly beside the Countess, and crept close to her. A completely
new sensation seemed to invade her whole being. She had a strange
feeling of uncertain joy tinged with pain and yet she loved this
sensation that troubled her, this half-fright which gave her a slight
shiver. The Duke brought up a chair and seemed to be exerting all his
charm and animation for the Countess, but it was easy to see that all
this charm, all this wit, were intended for the pretty creature who
appeared powerless to resist his fascinating personality.

When dinner was announced the Duke offered his arm to the Countess,
the Minister his to Madame Darbois, the Princess took the arm of the
philosopher. While Esperance, naturally accepted the arm of Count
Albert. She looked at him more attentively than she had ever done
before, and involuntarily made a comparison between him and the Duke
not altogether to his advantage.

"How easy and graceful the Duke is," she thought. "How heavy this man,
and dull and slow. The Duke's face is at once kindly and spirited, the
Count's brooding and awkward. The Duke is a man, the Count but a
shadow."

At the same instant the Count's arm pressed her delicate wrist. She
had again to restrain the repugnance she had felt before, and her
terrible nightmare came back to her. She let herself fall rather than
sit in the chair to which Albert Styvens had conducted her. Here she
found herself between the Count and the young Baron de Montrieux, who
attempted, with the most charming courtesy to forestall her every want
and monopolize all her attention. The Baron was overflowing with wit
and Esperance listened with delight.

After dinner the Baron de Montrieux went to the piano. He was a very
fair musician, and all the company were glad to listen to him. Albert
followed him. He was really gifted and, if fortune had not otherwise
favoured him, he could have made his name as an artist.

There was enthusiastic applause. The Count bent before Esperance, who,
in a burst of artistic appreciation, expressed her admiration.

"Then," he replied, uplifted with joy to feel that he had really
touched her, "shall we play our duet from Orpheus, Liszt's symphonic
poem, to these good friends who are, I think, quite appreciative."

"Oh! no, I should be afraid. I dare not. You forget I know so little.
I am an actress and I will recite for you if you like, but--"

The Duke came forward, and hearing the conversation joined in with
a request that was almost like pleading. Styvens held out his
angular fist to the young girl; the Duke extended a long white
hand; and so both led her to the piano. The Duke's fingers pressed
her palm lightly but with a suggestion of encouragement, while the
Count's held her like a vice that would never open. In spite of her
protestations, Esperance was installed at the piano, and Esperance
resolved to put all her best into her playing with the hope of being
able to transport her audience into the highest realms of the art that
can express great aspiration blended with the pathos of suffering.
Charles de Morlay-La-Branche withdrew to the rear of the long room,
and stood alone, leaning against a beautiful Italian window, to listen
and to watch. A conflict of feelings were struggling within him. He was
fighting against the attraction of this slender creature, whose white
shoulders and delicate body were swaying with a phrase now violent, now
subdued, her whole person actuated, controlled by the rhythm of the
music. The heavy frame work of Count Styvens seemed an anchor for the
fragile idol. The Duke gnawed his lip in suppressed emotional anger.

As the young couple left their seats the room shook with applause.
Everybody was delighted. The Princess took Esperance by both hands,
gazing at her, stroking the tapering fingers that were still vibrating
with the fever of the music. Esperance was so pale that the Princess
led her into another room and made her sit down, praising her
marvellous execution and striving to quiet the little heart she could
feel beating with so much agitation.

"The Doctor who attends me," Esperance explained in a far-away voice,
"has told me, Madame, that I must avoid all excitement if I wish to
live a long time, but that I shall not live naturally if I am over
excited or depressed by emotion."

They brought her a refreshing and soothing drink. The Princess's
attendant bathed her temples with Eau de Cologne. Esperance breathed
more quietly and rose, thanking the Princess; then suddenly collapsed
on her knees, sobbing, without strength, without consciousness, and
Madame Darbois was summoned to her side at once.

"Oh! great Heaven!" she said. "I have never seen her like this before;
usually she controls herself when over-excited by music. See, dear, a
little strength, stand up, and we will go home at once...."

But Esperance's head slipped from the mother's support into her arms,
while her whole body was shaken by sobs. The Countess Styvens came in
to find the girl exhausted by a storm of moans and sobs. They
succeeded in placing her on a large soft couch and she fell asleep
holding the Countess's hand, under the impression that it was her
mother's.

In about an hour she awoke, refreshed, unconscious of what had
happened to her or where she was. Her father and mother were beside
her. She got up, and one of the maids came to her. She then
remembered, and asked how long she had been asleep.

"You see, mama," she said, "you must not take me out any more, I am
not fit for it." Then kissing her mother who had never left her, she
expressed her sorrow for what had happened.

She thanked the maid and asked her to make her apologies to the
Princess.

"Would you not like me to call her?"

"No, please do not disturb anyone; I could not bear it."

In the ante-chamber two men-servants were in attendance. One of them
was helping Madame Darbois, and Esperance, still confused, slipped her
arms in the sleeves of her cloak, and then stopped short. Her bare arm
had been touched, she was sure of it.

She turned quickly. Her eyes met the Duke's enquiring but not
altogether pleasant glance. With a quick gesture the girl clasped her
mantle about her, and haughtily moved away without acknowledging the
Duke's bow.

Neither M. nor Madame Darbois had seen anything of what had just
passed.

The Duke de Morlay's bad humour vented itself against Count Styvens.

"I have just passed the Darbois in the cloak-room. The little flirt
was in a pitiful state: I helped her on with her cloak and her skin
was like ice."

Count Styvens turned almost in anger and his hands furtively opened
and closed. A feeling of enmity was rising in his generous soul. He
felt that the Duke had spoken slightingly of Esperance to wound him.
Twice, during dinner, he had caught the covetous glance of the Duke
fixed on Esperance, and he had suffered acutely in consequence. He
looked at the Duke coldly; his shyness would have made him dumb had it
not been for the sustaining power of his anger.

"I cannot reply to you now," he said. "My mother is here."

The Duke de Morlay-La-Branche, who was, after all, a gentleman, came
up to him.

"Albert, I am a fool. I beg your pardon."

And he went to take his leave of the Princess, who had quietly
witnessed and understood the pantomime that had passed between these
two men.

"You did right, my friend," she said to the Duke. "Albert is a brave
and loyal fellow."

"He is an idiot," he replied, "whose idiocy we must respect."

"All the same he has a quality which you and most of the other men of
your age do not possess, and he is not afraid of being laughed at; and
that gives him enormous moral strength."

"You find that a virtue, Princess?"

"Indeed I do. He does what he wants without bothering about what
people will say."

"But does he really know what they do say of him?"

"You know that Albert and I have been friends since childhood," said
the Princess. "He is twenty-eight, I am thirty, which gives me a
little advantage perhaps, and I talk to him quite as a comrade. It is
true that he has never had any love affairs with women, and they joke
him about it. Albert does not disguise it. 'I shall always be as I
am,' he says, 'until I really love.'"

"But he is in love now."

The Princess saw that the Duke enjoyed seeing her hesitation before
answering. So she said nothing at all, but held out her hand; which he
kissed respectfully and went his way.

CHAPTER XV

Esperance had returned home quite furious with the manner of the Duke
de Morlay-La-Branche, which she considered insolent. She had passed a
bad night, waking every few moments. She compared the dignified and
honourable affection of the Count with the offensive attitude of the
Duke. Her thoughts flew to Madame Styvens as to a refuge. She was
possessed of great tenderness towards this charming woman, whose life
of purity and goodness won the admiration of all who knew her. On her
side there was no doubt that the Countess loved the young girl, but
although she did not cherish the narrow and false ideas of many of her
friends against the theatre, she would have preferred to have
Esperance give up her career....

General Van Berger, who always spoke his mind to her, reprimanded her
severely on this point.

"It is impossible," he affirmed, "to let things go any further. Albert
cannot marry an actress. I realize that the Darbois family is very
respectable; the young girl seems to me above reproach or criticism,
but she must give up this career. The Countess Styvens is not for the
public eye, and if she loves him...."

"But she does not love him."

Van Berger was silenced for a moment. "What do you say? She does not
love him. And you approve of such a union?"

"My son loves her so deeply, and knowing him as you do, you can not
doubt the fidelity of his affection. Esperance is touched, flattered
even, but she does not want to give up her profession; she would
rather, I believe, remain single, or at any rate only marry a man who
would allow her to continue her artistic life. If I refuse my consent
to the question my son will no doubt soon ask me, he will not insist;
but will enter a Chartist monastery. He has a friend, a Chartist in
France, whom he visits often. I shall lose my child forever, and my
sad life will end in tears."

The gentle woman began to weep quietly. Much touched, the General
rose, twisting his moustache, "Courage, be brave, the assaults have
not yet been launched and you speak as if the battle were lost! We
have not got so far ahead yet, fortunately. Above all, don't cry, that
is worse than having one's arms and legs broken. I am yours to
command, you know that, heart and soul at your service; and I do not
retreat, not I, whatever comes.... Still, dear friend," he said,
sitting down beside her and taking her hand, "we must face the facts.
Many of your dearest friends would cease to visit you and your house
if you...."

"What do I care about the superficial friendship of such people, if
the happiness of my son is at stake! Thank you, dear friend, for your
loyal insistence. I understand it, but I know that even if you do not
succeed in convincing me you will not desert me in my trouble. Thank
you."

The Baron kissed the noble lady's hand.

The time of the trial performance at the Conservatoire was drawing
near. Esperance had resumed her usual life, alternately calm and
feverish. She was studying for the Competition. She often wrote to
Countess Styvens, who had returned to Brussels, on the subject. Before
she left, the Countess had come to see the little invalid, who had
touched her heart so much that special evening at the Princess's. She
had also got to know the professor and his wife more intimately. The
family attracted her, and she felt a large sympathy for them all. Of
course she was fully aware of the love her son had for Esperance and
resignedly left events in the hands of God. What did disturb Albert's
mother a little was the vehemence Esperance showed in regard to her
theatrical career, and the way she rejected the most guarded
remonstrances against her following that calling.

"No, no," said Esperance to Countess Styvens, "no, no, no; the theatre
is not a house of evil repute, nor are its followers evil doers: the
theatre is a temple where the beautiful is always worshipped; it makes
a continuous appeal to the higher senses and natural passions. In this
temple vice is punished, and virtue rewarded; the great social
problems are presented. In this temple instruction is less abstract,
and, therefore, more profitable for the crowd. The apostles of this
temple are full of faith and courage; they have the souls of
missionaries marching always toward the ideal."

The trials at the Conservatoire were to take place on the fifteenth of
July. Esperance was ambitious and strove for the first prize in both
comedy and tragedy. The year before the jury had only awarded her two
secondary prizes; not that she had not deserved the first, but that on
account of her youth they had thought it wiser to keep her back for
another year. The young artist was to compete for tragedy in the first
act of _Phedre_, for comedy in Alfred de Musset's _Barberine_.

The dawn of the fifteenth was clear and quiet. Genevieve and Jean
arrived at eight-thirty in the morning to rehearse their scenes for
the last time. Jean had in his hand a tiny package. As he was about to
give it to Esperance, the maid entered with a large box marked
"Lachaume," Florist, which she gave to Mlle. Frahender. On observing
this, Jean quickly hid his package in his pocket. Esperance had opened
the box and taken out a posy of gardenias, which she slipped into her
belt. Again the maid entered with a similar box containing orchids.
Esperance blushed, and then tore the bouquet from her belt so quickly
that she hurt her finger. She had not seen that a card attached to the
flowers by a pin read--"Duke de Morlay-La-Branche." Scornfully, she at
once threw the bouquet aside. Mlle. Frahender spoke to her in English
to rebuke her for such conduct, whatever its motive. Esperance excused
herself. "Be indulgent to me, little lady," she said, in her most
winning way; "I am a little nervous just now."

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