"The realism of the ideal is very true, but how are you going to make amateurs or critics feel that?"
"Oh!" replied Genevieve, with much conviction, "There is always an amateur of the beautiful, there is always a critic who describes his emotion sincerely, it is for them that I give my tears when I am on the stage."
Esperance dropped on her knees, and taking her friend's head in her hands, "You are always right, Genevieve," she said. "It is a great gift to have you for a friend."
"My little cousin speaks truth," concluded Maurice.
Genevieve stretched out her hand with a smile to thank him. The young man kept the contact of that charming strong hand and kissed it with more warmth than convention required.
"Monsieur Maurice," murmured the girl with trembling lips. But she could not voice a reproach. She got up to hide her blushes.
"Is not this the time for us to go back? The air is getting sharp, and you have no wraps, Esperance."
Count Styvens stood up to his full height and stretched his hands to his little idol to help her up, but she had withdrawn before the two arms stretched towards her, and recoiled in a kind of fright.
"Did I startle you?"
"Oh! No," she said nervously, "But I was dreaming, I was far away…."