CHAPTER VI


The family found itself back on the Boulevard Raspail. The Darbois had
not cared to leave their box. After every act, Mlle. Frahender carried
their comments and tender messages to Esperance. Francois Darbois had
great difficulty in constraining himself to remain in the noisy
vestibule. He suffered too acutely at seeing his daughter, that pure
and delicate child, the focus of every lorgnette, the subject of every
conversation. Several phrases he had overheard from a group of men had
brought him to his feet in a frenzy; then he fell back in his place
like one stunned. Nevertheless there had not been one offensive word.
It was all praise.

The philosopher held his daughter in his arms, pressed close against
his heart, and tears ran down his cheeks.

"It is the first time, and shall be the last, that I wish to see you
on the stage, dear little daughter. It is too painful for me, and what
is worst of all I fear it will take you away from me."

Esperance replied trembling, "Pardon me, Oh! pardon me, it is such a
force that impels me. I am sorry you suffer so. Oh! don't give way, I
beg of you!"

She fell on her knees before her father, sobbing and kissing his
hands.

Sardou, who was expected, came in just then, and his exuberance was