After fifteen days of long walks, which grew longer every day, and constant care, Albert became completely cured. They had a party at the farm house to celebrate his recovery, with the garrison doctor for the only outside guest.
The portrait of the Count that Maurice had done proved to be quite a remarkable picture—life-like and natural. It was placed on the mantel-piece in Mme. Styvens's room, where she found it when she returned after lunch. It was accompanied by a very simple letter, but a very sincere one, recalling the courage of the young Count and nobly expressing the gratitude of all. It was written and signed by the philosopher, Mme. Darbois and Maurice. The beautiful portrait, so delicately presented, was a source of happy comfort to this lonely woman.
The next day the Countess had a long talk with her son. He was sitting at her feet.
"Reflect very carefully," she said to him, "reflect very carefully. I believe that that child, whom I love, whom I find absolutely charming, will not willingly renounce her art. However, I am ready to do all I can to persuade her to accede to our desire and leave a career which would be an endless source of worry and suffering for you, my dear son."
"Mama, do not trouble her too much. She is honest and loyal, and I have nothing to fear for the honour of my name."
And before his mother could speak he went on: "I am jealous, it is true, but what happiness is not willing to pay for itself with a little pain? Then, perhaps, she will understand. I love her so much, dear, dear mother."
She took the head of the dearly loved son in her hands, and looking deep in his eyes, said fervently—"Dear God! May happiness reward so great a love!"
The young Count returned with his mother to the farm where François Darbois and his wife waited for them by agreement. After a quarter of an hour's conversation, Esperance was asked to come to her parents. She was in her room. Her heart beat as if it would break. She had been warned by Maurice of her family's interview with the Countess. Genevieve was with her, extolling the advantages of such a union, at the same time exalting the real goodness of the Count.
"Think also of your father, who at last will be able to realize his dream of becoming a member of the Academy. You know as well as I do that he has every chance of being elected, but he will never present himself as long as you are on the stage. You know the straightlaced, old-fashioned ways of that assembly…."
"But most of them are poets and dramatic writers," replied Esperance.
"Why should my father care to belong to the Academy at all?"