"No, look out for the love of the immaculate Albert," said mockingly a beautiful woman with bold eyes, glancing toward the stall occupied by Albert and his mother; but her eyes widened at seeing the Duke enter to present his compliments to the Countess Styvens. A few minutes later he was seen to go out with Count Albert. He was going to be presented to the young artist.
Count Styvens's love was known to all Paris, as was also the respect with which he surrounded his idol. It was also known that the young girl did not return this love; likewise that the son of the chemist Perliez was devoting his life to Esperance. But what would be the end of these two gallants, both so timid, so full of silent ardour? But now had entered upon the scene a rival possessed of beauty, of confidence, one who had toyed lightly with women's hearts, until he had wearied of the facile love his physical charm and wit attracted.
"That should be good sport to watch," said an old beau. "I am betting on the Duke."
A newly married bride turned towards him, "I am betting on the young girl."
A journalist, thin, blonde, very young, just beginning his career, had followed the Duke and the Count behind the scenes. He accompanied them into Esperance's little room and described what happened as follows:—
"She was holding the two cards, there in the midst of the overpowering odour of gardenias. She blushed when she heard the name of the Duke, Albert Styvens was presenting to her. She thanked them both very prettily, but without showing any preference for either. The Duke began complimentary speeches without making any impression. When they took leave, he wanted to kiss Esperance's hand, but she withdrew it looking very much surprised. This rather confused the Duke. As soon as these gentlemen departed I was presented, and her manner was just as charming. Jean Perliez came in just then to tell her that the curtain would go up in three minutes. He brought her a bunch of Parma violets, and she took them from him and put them in her girdle; you will see her wearing them on the stage. Perliez is desperately in love with her, and he grew very pale. He went out without a word. I think he must have gone to cry out his emotion in a corner. That is all," concluded the rising journalist.
He repeated his story twenty times, and by next morning all Paris knew that the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche had been received by Esperance like any other gentleman, that Count Albert Styvens had been noncommittal, and that Jean Perliez had been overcome. The young journalist wrote a very suggestive article concerning this little scene, highly ornamented with phrases that would attract attention; but unfortunately the editor refused to print it. The Duke did not care for notoriety, and was, moreover, a renowned fencer, so the editor exercised his discretion. Count Styvens belonged to the foreign diplomacy and was very particular, and no one had infringed on his privacy since the little affair in the Brussels music hall. That left only Jean Perliez, who was merely sincere and pathetic; the public did not want to read that kind of thing! So much for the little journalist.
Countess Styvens was spending a month in Paris, staying at the Legation with the Princess de Bernecourt, who always had a suite ready for her. There was to be a grand opening ceremony of the Opera season, and for many years the Styvens had never missed the first nights of the Opera or the Comedie-Française.
One evening at dinner the conversation turned upon music, and a guest regretted the mechanical performance of the musical prodigies at the Conservatoire.
"It gives them a certain amount of cleverness, or technique, or whatever you like to call it, but there is no flair of the ideal, and often no important personality."