"Your pardon, master, the atmosphere of glory that one breathes here has intoxicated me a little." During the rehearsal the music of the voice of the new "_Dona Sol_" blended charmingly with the powerful accents of the great actor, so that all the artists listened with emotion and delight. In the final act, when "_Dona Sol_," beside herself, raises her poignard to "_Don Ruy Gomez_," saying, "I am of the family, uncle," there was an outburst of "Bravos" for Esperance, who, erect and trembling, shoulders thrown back, had just sobbed these words in a vibrant voice between clenched teeth. With her pale face and out-stretched arm, she might have been the statue of despair struggling with destiny. Madame Darbois was heavy hearted to have her go. It was the first time that she had been parted from her daughter for even a few days. She often looked at her husband, hoping that he would understand her anxiety and urge her not to go, too. Jean and Maurice came to escort Esperance, who had been ready for a long time. Mlle. Frahender was carrying a cardboard box, containing two bonnets and a light cloth, in which to wrap her hat in in the train. All the rest of her belongings were contained in a little attaché case of grey duck, so flat that it seemed impossible that it could contain anything. When Madame Darbois saw them drive away, she was filled with distress, and as there was maternal anxiety in the mother's breast, so was there foreboding of evil in the father's mind. "I hope nothing bad will happen," thought the good woman, "but railway accidents are so common nowadays." "Who will she be seeing while she is away? What is destiny providing for her? My child is not armed against adventure," the philosopher was thinking. The two looked at each other, divining the miserable anxiety to which the other was prey. The rough, strident notes of Adhemar Meydieux's voice suddenly broke upon this atmosphere of gentle melancholy--"Well! what is this I hear? Esperance has gone; it is madness! I read in my paper this morning that she is going to play '_Dona Sol_' at Brussels! So I have come to escort her." François wrung his hand without saying a word. "What is the matter with you," went on Adhemar, "you seem to have changed into pillars of salt. I know very well that the theatre is Sodom and Gomorrah in one, but wait a little before you give way entirely! Who is going with my goddaughter?" "Mlle. Frahender, Marguerite, Maurice Renaud and Jean Perliez," the poor mother hastened to say.