"My dear Uncle,—This letter is to be shared by the whole community. I have found a world gone mad in this magnificent château. We are twenty-two at table. I have been cordially welcomed by all the strangers, to whom this cursed Duke, delightful fellow, has graciously presented me. I set to work at once to unravel and discover the plans of Charles de Morlay. But more anon. This is the programme: an orchestra composed of excellent artists are to play while the guests arrive, inspect each other, and take their places. We begin with a little ballet, entitled, The Moon in Search of Pierrot, acted and danced by some very good amateurs. I am to paint the drop for this ballet, and the authors (it has taken three of them to elaborate the stupidest scenario you ever yawned through) have called for a Scandinavian design and I have promised it, and shall paint it at Penhouet. Then, the great attraction, the tableaux vivants. That is where I lay in wait for our astute Duke. I will spare you details of nine of the tableaux. There are to be twelve, but Esperance appears only in three, which are the best. In one she represents Andromeda fastened to the rock, and Perseus (the Duke) delivers her after overcoming the dragon. In the second, the 'Judgment of Paris,' she appears as Aphrodite, to whom Paris (the Duke) gives the apple. The third is 'Europa and the Bull,' Europa being personified by Esperance. The Duke does not wish to look ridiculous in a bull's hide, so takes liberties with the legend and transforms the bull into a centaur. I have said 'Amen' to everything. Finally to complete the fête, which will no doubt be well attended and very profitable, there will be little shops of all kinds. Esperance is to sell flowers from the Duchess's gardens. I have my own idea on this point, which I shall later confide to you. I can easily get her fiancé to agree. Your nephew, dear uncle, should live in the land of honey for the future. I have already had orders for three portraits, and of three pretty women, which assures me that the portraits will be successful. Ahem! I am taking all my notes to-day and will be with you the day after to-morrow. It is up to you, dear uncle, to distribute in unequal or suitable doses my respects and love and affection amongst all those anxious to receive such privileges. Your affectionately devoted, Maurice."
"It seems to me," said Genevieve, as she left the dining-room with Esperance, "that your cousin has arranged everything very well, and that you ought to be quite happy and content."
"Oh! I know very well that I shall be taken care of, but how can I struggle against the tumultuous ideas that assail me? The vision of the Duke has haunted me ever since Maurice left. I have never seen the château, but I am sure that I shall recognize it. I would like to fall ill with some complaint that would send me to sleep and sleep. Oh! if I could get a little ugly for a little while, just long enough to make the Duke lose interest in me, I should be so glad. Dear Genevieve, can't you give me a little dose of the elixir of your happiness. I need it sorely just now."
The girls had been walking as they talked down to the little beach at Penhouet. The sea was at low tide, and the golden sand, dried by the sun, offered them a restful couch. They stretched themselves out upon it, and Esperance soon fell asleep. Jean Perliez appeared on the crest of the little hill that hides the bay from the sightseeker. Genevieve signed to him to come down quietly. He had a telegram, a dispatch from Belgium. He pinned it to Esperance's hat lying on the sand at her side, and dropping down close to Genevieve, began to talk in low tones. For both he and Genevieve were uneasy concerning their little friend.
A farm dog at the moment began to bark furiously. Esperance woke quickly, looking pale and worried, with her hands pressed on her frightened heart. She saw the telegram and opened it quickly.
"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.