"No, no," said Esperance to Countess Styvens, "no, no, no; the theatre is not a house of evil repute, nor are its followers evil doers: the theatre is a temple where the beautiful is always worshipped; it makes a continuous appeal to the higher senses and natural passions. In this temple vice is punished, and virtue rewarded; the great social problems are presented. In this temple instruction is less abstract, and, therefore, more profitable for the crowd. The apostles of this temple are full of faith and courage; they have the souls of missionaries marching always toward the ideal."
The trials at the Conservatoire were to take place on the fifteenth of July. Esperance was ambitious and strove for the first prize in both comedy and tragedy. The year before the jury had only awarded her two secondary prizes; not that she had not deserved the first, but that on account of her youth they had thought it wiser to keep her back for another year. The young artist was to compete for tragedy in the first act of Phedre, for comedy in Alfred de Musset's Barberine.
The dawn of the fifteenth was clear and quiet. Genevieve and Jean arrived at eight-thirty in the morning to rehearse their scenes for the last time. Jean had in his hand a tiny package. As he was about to give it to Esperance, the maid entered with a large box marked "Lachaume," Florist, which she gave to Mlle. Frahender. On observing this, Jean quickly hid his package in his pocket. Esperance had opened the box and taken out a posy of gardenias, which she slipped into her belt. Again the maid entered with a similar box containing orchids. Esperance blushed, and then tore the bouquet from her belt so quickly that she hurt her finger. She had not seen that a card attached to the flowers by a pin read—"Duke de Morlay-La-Branche." Scornfully, she at once threw the bouquet aside. Mlle. Frahender spoke to her in English to rebuke her for such conduct, whatever its motive. Esperance excused herself. "Be indulgent to me, little lady," she said, in her most winning way; "I am a little nervous just now."
She put the white orchids that Count Styvens had just sent to her in her belt. Jean Perliez picked up the discarded bouquet and the card. He was more disturbed by her anger against the Duke than by her passive acceptance of the young Count's gift. She had talked to him continually of the Duke, criticizing him it is true, but Jean felt in these reproaches that Esperance was more or less practising some deceit. Esperance had wished to have Jean defend the Duke, heap on him praise rather than the blame he did. The young artist felt instinctively that this man—the Duke—would not marry his little comrade.
The three went back to work. When the rehearsal was finished, M. and
Mme. Darbois came in gaily to take their breakfast coffee with them.
Esperance kissed them tenderly and departed for the struggle on which,
perhaps, her career depended.
A day of competition at the Conservatoire offers the spectators a series of amusing studies, instructive, puzzling and deceptive also at times. Ambition, jealousy, vanity border on loyalty, sensibility, and pride. Most of these young people are preparing themselves to begin a sharp and bitter struggle for life itself. Others—and these are very few—are in search of, if not fame, at least notoriety. They have elected to enter upon this career, led by enthusiastic hope, their love of the beautiful, and unconscious consecration to art; nor will they cease throughout their lives to spread their propaganda in behalf of all there is that is good.
When Esperance appeared for the scene of Phedre, a fluttering murmur of approval greeted her, while several little outbursts of applause were heard. She was so pretty in her gown of white crepe de chine! Her youthfully cut bodice revealed the slender flexibility of her neck; she might have been a bust in rose wax modelled by Leonardo da Vinci. She carried all before her by her interesting interpretation of the role. The tragic grief of the daughter of "Minos" and "Pasiphae" was a revelation for many there from one so young. Tears coursed down Esperance's pretty cheeks. The abandon of her graceful arms, her renouncement of a struggle against the gods, her longing for death, her shame after the tale of "Oenone," her radiant vision of the son of "Theseus," all was fully appreciated by the public, and by a distinguished company of connoisseurs, often strongly critical, but never insensible to real talent as it developed.
In the competition for comedy the young girl achieved the same triumph. When the jury proclaimed her first in tragedy, all being unanimously agreed on the verdict, a storm of applause and admiration greeted the announcement. Mlle. Frahender wept with pleasure, Genevieve Hardouin, enfolding her little friend in her lovely bare arms, kissed her on the hair. Esperance felt more touched by the affectionate admiration of her comrades, than she had been even by the applause the day of the first presentation of Victorien Sardou's play at the Vaudeville. In the afternoon she received the same kind of ovation for her competition for the first prize in comedy. When she came out of the Conservatoire they would have unharnessed her carriage, but Mlle. Frahender and Jean Perliez absolutely opposed this manifestation. Genevieve Hardouin had obtained a second prize in tragedy and an honourable mention in comedy. Jean, who had only entered the competition for tragedy, had a first, shared with two other comrades. The three young people were radiant, each neglecting his own fortune to magnify the triumph of the others.
When Esperance returned to the Boulevard Raspail, she found her parents much elated at her success. Count Styvens, who had been present at the competition, had hurried to tell them the good news and give them all the details of their daughter's significant triumph.
"She surpassed herself in Phedre," he had said. "She is, I think, the equal to some of the greatest tragedienes," and when they told Esperance she said, "Is he still here?" looking towards the salon.