"Come with us, my dear Count."

Albert Styvens became livid, a cold sweat broke out on his forehead, a
polite phrase died in his throat. He rose to his feet and followed the
Prince of Bernecourt.

The little reception-room next to Esperance's dressing-room was full
of flowers, but no one was there. The manager and author had agreed
that no stranger should approach the young artist. Only the family,
Jean Perliez and Mlle. Frahender were allowed to enter. This good old
soul was with Esperance now, as was Marguerite, who was not willing to
leave her young mistress.

Sardou knocked. "Let me know, my dear child, when you are ready."

The door opened almost immediately, and the young girl rushed joyfully
out into the little room. She stopped short upon seeing three
strangers, and her eyes sought Sardou's, full of startled surprise.

"I have taken the liberty of disturbing you, little friend.... I want
to present you to the Princess de Bernecourt."

Esperance curtsied with pretty grace. The Minister-Prince complimented
her graciously; he was a dilettante, who could express himself most
charmingly, in well chosen, artistic terms.

"Your Excellency overcomes me," said the young actress. "I shall do my
best to deserve your kindness."

With a quick movement she re-adjusted her tulle scarf on her shoulders