"Who will she be seeing while she is away? What is destiny providing for her? My child is not armed against adventure," the philosopher was thinking.
The two looked at each other, divining the miserable anxiety to which the other was prey.
The rough, strident notes of Adhemar Meydieux's voice suddenly broke upon this atmosphere of gentle melancholy—"Well! what is this I hear? Esperance has gone; it is madness! I read in my paper this morning that she is going to play 'Dona Sol' at Brussels! So I have come to escort her."
François wrung his hand without saying a word.
"What is the matter with you," went on Adhemar, "you seem to have changed into pillars of salt. I know very well that the theatre is Sodom and Gomorrah in one, but wait a little before you give way entirely! Who is going with my goddaughter?"
"Mlle. Frahender, Marguerite, Maurice Renaud and Jean Perliez," the poor mother hastened to say.
"And what an escort," jeered Adhemar. "The old mademoiselle will be open-mouthed before her pupil, she knows nothing of life. Provided that Esperance obeys the commandments of the Church and does not miss Mass on Sunday, she will be satisfied. Her piety and her sudden love of the theatre coincide with her attempt to save a soul; but I tell you that she cannot see farther than the end of her nose, which, though long enough in all conscience, doesn't furnish elevation for much view. And," he continued, pleased with his wit, "Maurice Renaud, that wild rascal, is he apt to inspire respect for Esperance? As to Jean Perliez, the poor little ninny is head over heels in love with her. I don't suppose that you have noticed it?"
"Not only noticed it, but encouraged the young man," said François, "and he would be a very honourable and desirable son-in-law."
"My poor friend, my good fellow," and Adhemar collapsed in a chair and rubbed his hands together; "my poor dear friend, and you believe that Esperance…?"
He laughed aloud.