Jean Perliez was the son of a chemist. His father had been unwilling that he should choose a theatrical career until he should have completed his studies at college. He had obeyed, graduated brilliantly, and was now presenting himself for the entrance examination as a tragedian.
The three young people went over the two scenes Esperance had chosen together.
"What a pretty voice you have, Mademoiselle," said Genevieve Hardouin timidly.
After the rehearsal of Les Femmes Savantes, when they finished the scene of Iphygenia, Jean Perliez turned to Madame Darbois and inquired the name of Esperance's instructor.
"Why, she had none. My daughter has worked alone; I have given her the cues." She smiled that benevolent smile, which always lighted her features with a charm of true goodness and distinction.
"That is indeed remarkable," murmured Jean Perliez, as he looked at the young girl. Then bending towards Madame Darbois, "May I be permitted, Madame, to ask your daughter to give me the cues of 'Junia' in Britannicus? The young lady who was to have played it is ill."
Madame Darbois hesitated to reply and looked towards Esperance.
"Oh! yes, mama, of course you will let me," said that young lady, in great spirits. And without more ado, "We must rehearse, must we not? Let us begin at once."
The young man offered her the lines. "I don't need them," she said laughing, "I know 'Junia' by heart." And, indeed, the rehearsal passed off without a slip, and the little cast separated after exchanging the most enthusiastic expressions of pleasure.
A comrade asked Perliez, "Is she any good, that pretty little blonde?"