The Idol of Paris | Page 6

a scene from Les Femmes Savantes (the rôle of "Henriette"), and
in tragedy a scene from Iphygenia. Adhemar Meydieux often came to
inquire about his goddaughter's studies. He wished to hear her recite, to
give her advice; but Esperance refused energetically, still remembering
his former opposition against him. She would let no one hear her
recitations, but her mother. Madame Darbois put all her heart into her

efforts to help her daughter. Every morning she went through her work
with Esperance. To her the rôle of "Henriette" was inexplicable. She
consulted her husband, who replied, "'Henriette' is a little
philosopheress with plenty of sense. Esperance is right to have chosen
this scene from Les Femmes Savantes. Molière's genius has never
exhibited finer raillery than in this play." And he enlarged upon the
psychology of "Henriette's" character until Madame Darbois realized
with surprise that her daughter was completely in accord with the ideas
laid down by her father as to the interpretation of this rôle. Esperance
was so young it seemed impossible that she could yet understand all the
double subtleties....
Esperance had taken her first communion when she was eleven, and
after her religious studies ended, she had thought of nothing but poetry,
and had even tried to compose some verses. Her father had encouraged
her, and procured her a professor of literature. From that time the child
had given herself completely to the art of the drama, learning by heart
and reciting aloud the most beautiful parts of French literature. Her
parents, listening with pleasure to her recitations of Ronsard or Victor
Hugo, little guessing that the child was already dreaming of the theatre.
Often since then, Madame Darbois had reproached herself for having
foreseen so little, but her husband, whose wisdom recognized the
uselessness of vain regrets, would calm her, saying with a shake of his
head, "You can prevent nothing, my dear wife, destiny is a force
against which all is impotent! We can but remove the stumbling-blocks
from the path which Esperance must follow. We must be patient!"
At last the day arrived! Never had the young girl been more charming.
François Darbois had been working arduously on the correction of a
book he was about to publish, when he saw her coming into his library.
He turned towards her and, regarding her there in the doorway, seemed
to see the archangel of victory--such radiance emanated from this frail
little body.
"I wanted to kiss you, father, before going ... there. Pardon me for
having disturbed you." He pressed her close against his heart without
speaking, unwilling to pronounce the words of regret that mounted to

his lips.
Esperance was silent for an instant before her father's grief: then with
an exaltation of her whole being she flung herself on her father's neck:
"Oh, father, dear father, I am so happy that you must not suffer; you
love me so much that you must be happy in this happiness I owe to you;
to-morrow, perhaps, will bring me tears. Let us live for to-day."
The professor gently stroked his daughter's velvet cheek. "Go, my
darling, go and return triumphant."
In the reception-room Esperance and Madame Darbois went to the
same bench, where they had sat upon their former visit. Some fifty
people were assembled.
The same official came to speak to them, and, consulting the list which
he was holding ostentatiously, "There are still five pupils before you,
Mademoiselle, two boys and three young ladies. Whom have you
chosen to give you your cues?"
Esperance looked at him with amazement. "I don't understand," she
said, Madame Darbois was perturbed.
"But," answered the man, "you must have an 'Armande' for Les
Femmes Savantes, an 'Agememnon' and a 'Clytemnestra' for Iphygenia."
"But we did not know that," stammered Madame Darbois.
The official smiled and assumed still more importance. "Wait just a
moment, ladies." Soon he returned, leading a tall, young girl with a
dignified bearing, and a young man of evident refinement. "Here is
Mlle. Hardouin, who is willing to give you the cues for 'Armande' and
'Clytemnestra,' and M. Jean Perliez, who will do the 'Agememnon.'
Only, I believe," he added, "you will have to rehearse with them. I will
take all four of you into my little office where no one can disturb you."
Mlle. Hardouin was a beautiful, modest young girl of eighteen, with
charming manners. She was an orphan and lived with a sister ten years

older, who had been a mother to her. They adored each other. The older
sister had established a good trade for herself as a dressmaker; both
sisters were respected and loved.
Jean Perliez was the son of a chemist. His father had been unwilling
that he should choose a theatrical career until he should have completed
his studies at college. He