"Don't speak so loud," said Esperance, frightened. "No, I am not in love with the Duke, but he bothers me, I confess. He is continually in my mind, and the thought of him makes the blood rush to my heart. When he is present I can struggle against him, but I have no strength against the picture of him I so often conjure up. That dominates me more than he can do himself. That seems innocent enough, but I know very well all the same, that I find every excuse for dwelling on the thought of him. No, I do not love him ... but still...." she murmured very low. Genevieve took her friend in her arms. "Esperance, darling, save yourself! Think of the downfall of your mother's happiness, think of the fearful remorse of your father. Think of your godfather's iniquitous triumph. Ah! I beg of you, accept the Count's love, become his wife, you will be constrained by your loyalty to save your father's honour. But the Duke...." "My father's honour is precious to me, and you see, I am defending it badly," said Esperance. She wept quietly. Genevieve drew her head down on her shoulder. Esperance kissed her. "Come, we must go back, it is getting late. I thank you, Genevieve, and I love you." A letter arrived the next morning which announced that the Count would pay them his visit on Thursday. There were just three days before his coming. Esperance had made up her mind, after her talk with Genevieve, to accede to her parents' wishes. She and Genevieve went to inspect the room that had been prepared for the Count. It was a little square apartment very nicely arranged. On the floor was a mat with red and white squares. The windows looked out on the rocky coast. The young people decided to hang some small variegated laurels from the ceiling to decorate it. On the mantel they put some flower vases on either side of a plaque representing the golden wedding of a Breton couple. Mme. Darbois opened for them what Esperance called her "reliquary," and they found there flowers and ribbons. They chose wisteria, and lavender and white ribbons, then went to work on their wreath. A large crown of pretty bunches was hung from satin ribbons. When it was ready the four young people went with ladder and tools to hang the wreaths, Maurice standing high up on the ladder drove in the peg intended to hold the crown. "As reward for this service, you know," he said, "I must be allowed to put the wreath on your pretty head, the day that you are married." Esperance blushed and sighed sadly. The room was charming in its decoration, though when it was finished it seemed more fit for a young girl than for a big, broad-shouldered man. M. and Mme. Darbois went to meet Count Styvens at Palais. François had taken his glasses and pointed out the boat to his wife. "There is the Count," said Mme. Darbois. "I recognize his tall figure."