The dawn of the fifteenth was clear and quiet. Genevieve and Jean arrived at eight-thirty in the morning to rehearse their scenes for the last time. Jean had in his hand a tiny package. As he was about to give it to Esperance, the maid entered with a large box marked "Lachaume," Florist, which she gave to Mlle. Frahender. On observing this, Jean quickly hid his package in his pocket. Esperance had opened the box and taken out a posy of gardenias, which she slipped into her belt. Again the maid entered with a similar box containing orchids. Esperance blushed, and then tore the bouquet from her belt so quickly that she hurt her finger. She had not seen that a card attached to the flowers by a pin read--"Duke de Morlay-La-Branche." Scornfully, she at once threw the bouquet aside. Mlle. Frahender spoke to her in English to rebuke her for such conduct, whatever its motive. Esperance excused herself. "Be indulgent to me, little lady," she said, in her most winning way; "I am a little nervous just now." She put the white orchids that Count Styvens had just sent to her in her belt. Jean Perliez picked up the discarded bouquet and the card. He was more disturbed by her anger against the Duke than by her passive acceptance of the young Count's gift. She had talked to him continually of the Duke, criticizing him it is true, but Jean felt in these reproaches that Esperance was more or less practising some deceit. Esperance had wished to have Jean defend the Duke, heap on him praise rather than the blame he did. The young artist felt instinctively that this man--the Duke--would not marry his little comrade. The three went back to work. When the rehearsal was finished, M. and Mme. Darbois came in gaily to take their breakfast coffee with them. Esperance kissed them tenderly and departed for the struggle on which, perhaps, her career depended. A day of competition at the Conservatoire offers the spectators a series of amusing studies, instructive, puzzling and deceptive also at times. Ambition, jealousy, vanity border on loyalty, sensibility, and pride. Most of these young people are preparing themselves to begin a sharp and bitter struggle for life itself. Others--and these are very few--are in search of, if not fame, at least notoriety. They have elected to enter upon this career, led by enthusiastic hope, their love of the beautiful, and unconscious consecration to art; nor will they cease throughout their lives to spread their propaganda in behalf of all there is that is good.