They all laughed at this quip, which had a very close resemblance to the truth. "Yes, papa, but no music after dinner: our evenings would be lost! It is so pleasant to go for long walks on these wonderful moonlight nights! The piano is for the town, here we only want to enjoy the harmonious music of nature, the sea that croons or roars, the wind that whistles, whistles or scolds, the plaint of the sea-gulls in the storm, the cry of the frightened gulls and cormorants, the clicking of the pebbles rolled over by the waves; all these charm me strangely and I often sleep on the little beach, soothed by these melodies which you will find echoed in the themes of our great masters." The philosopher drew his daughter on his knee. "Very well. We will not mention music to your lover." The word had slipped out but it stung the young girl, however, she would not let her resentment appear. "So," she thought, "they all accept the courting of Albert Styvens. My father himself is part of the conspiracy against me." She led Genevieve outside and confided to her her apprehensions. Her young friend did not deny that the coming of Count Styvens had the appearance to all of an approaching proposal of marriage. "My God," said Esperance, pressing her friend's arm, "it seems to me that I shall never be able to say 'Yes.' I am so happy as I am." The two girls were sitting on a little mound. The moon was reflected in a sea as quiet as the sky. "See," said Esperance, "that is the image of my life. At this moment I am calm, happy, and my art is like that bright star. It brightens everything for me without troubling me.... I do not love Count Styvens. Oh!" she went on in answer to a movement from Genevieve, "I like him as a friend, but I do not love him. I know he is a gallant gentleman, a fine musician, and a splendid athlete; I recognize that he is very generous and that he is entirely unselfish--for these I greatly respect him, but these qualities alone have nothing to do with love." "He is a very good-looking man," said Genevieve. "His arms are too long and he has not any decided colour. His face, his hair, his eyes are all of a neutral tint which you cannot define." "But handsome men are very rare!" Esperance did not answer. "There is the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche, too. Do you like him any better?" The moon shone full on Esperance's face. "Great Heavens, dearie," exclaimed Genevieve quickly, "you are not in love with that man, I hope."