"Yes, but only for a few seconds," said the young painter. "I believe that you will have to wait several months before you can renew your love. She is convalescent, but not cured. Here is a proposal for you: I am going to marry Mlle. Hardouin in two months. Come to our wedding. Your presence will seem quite natural, for you have treated me as a friend. I am very much attached to you and I am sure that my cousin will be very happy with you when you are married."
"The Doctor assures us that she will be quite herself, and it is by his advice that we have set that date for our marriage."
"Do you think Mlle. Hardouin would accept me as a witness?"
She will be delighted, and I thank you. Genevieve has no relations except her elder sister, who brought her up."
"I hope that this marriage will recall Esperance's promise to her. Meantime I shall go to Italy for about the two months. Will you see if I may say good-bye to her?"
It was more than a month since the Duke had seen Esperance. He was painfully shocked by the change in her pretty face. She looked hardly real. Her eyes were enormous. Genevieve and Mlle. Frahender were with her.
"Here is the Duke de Morlay-La-Branche who has come to say good-bye to you."
Esperance turned her eyes towards the Duke.
"It is a long time since I have seen you," she said simply.
And her voice sounded like the tone of a distant harp.
"I have been very ill, I believe, but I cannot remember very well. I feel as if I had had heavy blows in my brain; sometimes I hear dreadful calls and then everything is quiet again. And then sometimes I see a piece of a picture, no beginning, no end, sometimes horrible, sometimes lovely. Why, now I remember," she spoke gently with a charming smile, "that you are part of all my visions, but I do not know any more how, or why.... And Albert, where is he? Why does he not come? He must come and undo the collar.... Ah! my God, my God, I am wandering you see, nothing is clear yet."
"My God, my God, have pity on me or take me at once. I do not want to lose my mind!"
"Say you are not sorry that you loved me?"
She clapped her hands with a silvery laugh, "Genevieve, Genevieve, he loves me still."
And she hid her head on the young girl's arm. Maurice led the Duke away, overcome. He looked questioningly at the painter.