"Have you both gone crazy? They are looking everywhere for Esperance for the 'Judgment of Paris,' and here you are congratulating and kissing each other!" "Cousin, I needed the air, don't scold. Genevieve looked for me and found me before anybody else, and I kissed her because I love her most." She spoke fast and laughed nervously. "Who freed you from your chains?" "Perseus, it was his duty!" "And now he is going to give you an apple." "Then," she said very prettily, "I must try to deserve it. Come help me to make myself beautiful." She led Genevieve away by the hand. Maurice remained rooted to the spot. Somehow he guessed what sudden change had operated upon his cousin's spirit. Something must have taken place in the corridor between these two! He murmured sadly, "Poor Albert, poor little cousin!" The young Count appeared before him in his most radiant humour. "I have just met Esperance," he said. "She was joyous, brilliant, I have never before seen her so happy!" Maurice gnawed his moustache, and moved rather angrily. "We should never have come here," he said, "success has turned her head." "She was born for success," said the Count. "I often ask myself whether I have a right to accept the sacrifice she is making for me." "My dear friend, when things are well you should leave them alone." "When you love as I love, you desire above everything the happiness of the one you love." "Unless the one you love should prefer someone else to you?" "You are wrong, Maurice. I would sacrifice myself for Esperance's happiness if I knew she wanted to marry another man." Maurice shrugged his shoulders. "We are not of the same race. Your blood runs colder in your veins than mine, for mine boils. But, perhaps you have a better understanding of these things?" And he left the Count to go and help the Duke prepare the "Judgment of Paris." Three young girls had been chosen for this tableau. Mlle. de Berneuve, a beautiful brunette (Hera); Mlle. Lebrun, with flaming hair (Athene); and Esperance, delicately blonde, was to represent Aphrodite, to whom the shepherd Paris would award the prize for beauty. To personify Aphrodite the girl wore a long pink tunic, with a peplum of the same colour heavily embroidered. Her hair was piled high on her head, leaving the lovely nape of her neck half covered by her draperies, her exquisitely delicate arms emerging from a sleeveless tunic. To represent the shepherd Paris, the Duke was wearing a short tunic embroidered with agate beads to hold the stuff down, and a sheep skin. A red cap was on his head. He was magnificent to look upon. The stage began to revolve. Paris held out his apple to Aphrodite, who went crimson at his glance. The girl's blushes did not escape the audience, where the comments varied according to the person who made them.