Esperance found himself near the piano. Jane had risen, and was receiving the many compliments of her admirers. She saw Esperance, and as her eyes fell upon him, Goutran felt his companion start.
"Suppose," he said, "that I present you to our star? Surely she will exorcise your dismal thoughts. Mademoiselle," he added, addressing Jane, "one of your most ardent admirers solicits the honor of being presented to you."
The two—Jane and Esperance—were now face to face. Esperance, pale and silent, looked at Jane, while she stood waiting possibly for some words of praise.
The crowd swept on, leaving these two persons almost alone, and at this moment a candle fell from one of the chandeliers upon the train of Jane's black tulle, and shrieks from all the women rent the air. Flames threatened to envelop Jane. With a rapidity that was quicker than thought, Esperance tore down one of the heavy Eastern portières, and wrapped it around the girl. He did this so skilfully that in a minute the flames were stifled, and Jane stood, pale but smiling, as if she hardly knew the danger she had been in. She was magnificent, enveloped in this mantle that looked like a royal robe.
Having accomplished his work Esperance drew back, like a worshipper recoiling in terror after touching the goddess.
At this moment a man made his way through the crowd. He was dressed in an old-fashioned livery. His face was large-featured and solemn, but now contracted with terror.
"Are you hurt?" he cried, as he reached Jane. Two persons started on hearing this voice—one was Jane. She colored deeply, and in much agitation answered quickly:
"No, my friend, I am not hurt. It was a slight accident, and this gentleman saved me."
Esperance started, because he felt sure that this voice and the one that had addressed to him the strange words he had repeated to Goutran, was the same. The man turned and looked at the Count.