Alone in the lift, the young Count felt for a moment abashed, but he speedily recovered himself, and when Esperance reached the bottom of the stairs she found him waiting for her.
As she leaped down the last step, she again felt herself lifted and deposited upon her feet.
"What are you doing?" she cried angrily, startled and offended.
The rapid half-embrace had been almost brutal. Esperance could still feel on her delicate skin the pressure of the man's strong fingers.
He apologized, and was sincerely repentant. He had acted without reflection; he had forgotten his great strength which had this time served him ill. He was violently attracted by this charming little creature, with whom he admitted to himself that he was deeply in love; he, who up to this time had always avoided women as if he feared them.
The telephonic communication was lengthy. François Darbois gave his consent to his daughter to attend the supper. Madame Darbois was distracted, and must find out what dress Esperance would wear.
"I will keep on my costume from the last act of Hernani," she answered, and after a gentle farewell, Esperance hastened to the theatre for the rehearsal.
The Director of the Monnaie announced that Her Majesty had come and that they could begin. Hugo's masterpiece was magnificently presented. The greatest artists filled even minor rôles. Mounet-Sully surpassed himself, and Esperance drew cries of admiration from that select but critical audience.
Count Albert was seated in the orchestra stalls with his mother. The Countess Styvens, widowed after five years, had bestowed upon her son all the affection she had cherished for her husband. She had never left him, but had had him educated under her own supervision, giving him at the age of nine, as tutor, a Jesuit who was one of the most austere, if also one of the most learned, of the Order. The young man was a perfect pupil, studious, ever disdaining the pleasures of his age. His childhood passed in the grey and pious atmosphere in which his mother steeped herself. His youth developed under the rule of his preceptor, a pale youth, without laughter, without aspirations. The physicians had never been able to persuade the Countess to let her son have the joy of travel of sea and mountain, so he had to be satisfied with the physical exercises she permitted. So he gave himself up to gymnastics with enthusiasm, expending his youthful vigour against his drill professor, and the Japanese who taught him jiu-jitsu. The boy's strength became quite remarkable. But his pale face, disproportionately long arms, and reputation for austerity, had made him the mark, from the very first days of his diplomatic career, for the gossips, ballad makers, and authors of questionable cabaret skits.
The day he heard that he was serving as Turk's head in a Brussels music-hall, he went instantly behind the scenes of the theatre and demanded to see the Director, who was in conversation with the author of the piece. He went right up to them. "I," he said, raising his hat politely, "am Count Albert Styvens. I shall be very glad to have you suppress the scene, which, I understand, is intended to caricature me."