Meantime seated in the Brussels express, Esperance had fixed her attention on the constantly changing horizon, and was giving herself up to myriad impressions as they went fleeting by. The great plains rolling interminably out of sight pleased her; the light mist rising from the earth seemed to her the breath of the shivering tall grasses, offering the sun the drops of dew which glinted at the summit of their slender stems. She too, on this beautiful autumn morning, felt herself expanding towards the sky. Her fresh lips were offering themselves to the kisses of life. She was at that moment a vision of the radiance of youth. Maurice was so struck by her beauty that he drew a little sketch, and resolved to do her portrait, just as she was at that moment. No love entered into this admiration; he saw as a painter, he dreamed as an artist! Jean Perliez looked at the sketch, then at the model, and was left dazzled and dolorous. Finally magnetized by the looks fixed upon her, Esperance turned her head away with a little cry of surprise. Mlle. Frahender, who had been asleep, opened her eyes, and straightened the angle of her bonnet. Esperance shook her pretty head laughing, while Maurice exhibited his sketch and announced to his cousin his desire to paint her portrait. "How pleased my father will be," she cried. "I thank you in advance for the joy that you will give him." The conversation became general, animated, merry, just what was to be expected at their happy age. Soon after the train stopped; they had arrived at Brussels. Jean Perliez jumped lightly on to the platform. Mlle. Frahender adjusted her hat, after having carefully folded up her bonnet, and Maurice helped Marguerite to count the pieces of luggage. Just as Esperance was getting out to help her old companion, she had a feeling of reaction, her face grew pale with fright at an impression she could not define: two long arms were stretched towards her. And she recalled the hallucination or vision she had seen in her own mirror at home, on the day when she had tried to interrogate destiny. Count Albert Styvens was standing on the platform before her, holding out his arms, his hands open. Totally dazed without understanding herself why it should be so, the young girl closed her eyes. She felt herself lifted, and set down upon the ground. Although the movement had been one of perfect respect, she felt angry with this man for having imposed his will upon her. When she looked at him he was already speaking to Mlle. Frahender, whom he recollected having seen in Esperance's room at the Vaudeville. "Will you not both take my mother's carriage?" he asked. His voice, slow, correct, a little distant, fell on the ear of the young actress. "But," Jean objected quickly, "I have engaged the landau from the Grand Hotel." "Very well, we three can go in that," said the Count, as he guided the old lady and the young one towards a perfectly appointed _coupé_, drawn by two magnificent sorrels.