"That is because I just rushed foolishly on my bicycle to see you,
Doctor. I recognized you a long way off. So…."
The Doctor looked closely at the young girl. Her eyes shone with abnormal brightness. He sounded her, but found nothing wrong except the irregularity of her heart. He sent Esperance back to the salon so that he could talk with her father alone. The Duke hastened to apologize for having come thus without notice. He was staying at the Château of Castel-Montjoie with Doctor Potain, and when he heard that the Doctor was leaving for Belle-Isle, he could not resist the opportunity to come and ask pardon. He talked a long time, with ardent, almost brotherly tenderness; asked when Esperance thought of making her appearance at the Comedie-Française, urging her to play "Camille," and spoke with considerable praise of Musset's heroine.
"The character of the young girl seems to have been caught alive. I criticize her only for her hardness."
"But," Esperance replied quickly, "that hardness is simply a light veneer, the result of her education. 'Camille,' who knew nothing of life except through the disillusioned account of her friend in the Convent, would soon become human if 'Perdican' had a less complicated psychology."
She stopped, and was silent a minute.
The Duke looked at her.
"All the world has not the candour of a Count Styvens," he said.
This unfortunate sentence exactly answered a fleeting thought that was passing in Esperance's brain.
"So much the worse for 'all the world,'" she said quietly and left him.
Her father and Doctor Potain came in at this moment.