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 and blushed a little. The Minister turned and saw Albert Styvens standing with nervous interest--gazing like one bewitched at the enchanting maiden. "Let me present to you Count Albert Styvens." Esperance inclined her head a little and drew instinctively nearer to Mlle. Frahender. The Count had not moved. The Prince led him away as soon as he had made his adieux to the young girl and the elder lady. "Are you ill or insane?" he asked his Secretary. "Insane, yes; I think I must be going insane," murmured the young man in a choking voice. The play was in four acts, there were still two to come. The audience seemed to watch in a delirium of delight, and when the last curtain dropped, they called Esperance back eight times, and demanded the author. In spite of all the talent displayed by Sardou as author, there was much enthusiasm and an unconscious gratitude in him as the discoverer of a new sensation.... No comet acclaimed by astronomers as capable of doubling the harvest would have moved the populace as did the description in all the papers of this new star in Paris. 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. François 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 dashed to the ground when he witnessed the trouble the family were in. "Come, this is foolishness," he said, helping Esperance to her feet.