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TITLE: THE IDOL OF PARIS
AUTHOR: SARAH BERNHARDT
EBOOK: E00486 (O'Briens Book Cellar)

THE IDOL OF PARIS

by SARAH BERNHARDT

1921
(English Edition)

CONTENTS

PART ONE: PARIS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

PART TWO: BRUSSELS

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

PART THREE: THE COUNTRY

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

PART FOUR: THE CHATEAU

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

PART I. PARIS

CHAPTER I

In the dining-room of a fine house on the Boulevard Raspail all the
Darbois family were gathered together about the round table, on which
a white oil cloth bordered with gold-medallioned portraits of the line
of French kings served as table cover at family meals.

The Darbois family consisted of Francois Darbois, professor of
philosophy, a scholar of eminence and distinction; of Madame Darbois,
his wife, a charming gentle little creature, without any pretentions;
of Philippe Renaud, brother of Madame Darbois, an honest and able
business man; of his son, Maurice Renaud, twenty-two and a painter, a
fine youth filled with confidence because of the success he had just
achieved at the last Salon; of a distant cousin, the family
counsellor, a tyrannical landlord and self-centered bachelor, Adhemar
Meydieux, and the child of whom he was godfather, and around whom all
this particular little world revolved.

Esperance Darbois, the only daughter of the philosopher, was fifteen
years old. She was long and slim without being angular. The flower
head that crowned this slender stem was exquisitely fair, with the
fairness of a little child, soft pale-gold, fair. Her face had,
indeed, no strictly sculptural beauty; her long flax-coloured eyes
were not large, her nose had no special character; only her sensitive
and clear-cut nostrils gave the pretty face its suggestion of ancient
lineage. Her mouth was a little large, and her full red lips opened on
singularly white teeth as even as almonds; while a low Grecian
forehead and a neck graceful in every curve gave Esperance a total
effect of aristocratic distinction that was beyond dispute. Her low
vibrant voice produced an impression that was almost physical on those
who heard it. Quite without intention, she introduced into every word
she spoke several inflections which made her manner of pronounciation
peculiarly her own.

Esperance was kneeling on a chair, leaning upon her arms on the table.
Her blue dress, cut like a blouse, was held in at the waist by a
narrow girdle knotted loosely. Although the child was arguing
vigorously, with intense animation, there was such grace in her
gestures, such charming vibrations in her voice, that it was
impossible to resent her combative attitude.

"Papa, my dear papa," she was asserting to Francois Darbois, "You are
saying to-day just the opposite of what you were saying the other day
to mother at dinner."

Her father raised his head. Her mother, on the contrary, dropped hers
a little. "Pray Heaven," she was saying to herself, "that Francois
does not get angry with her!"

The godfather moved his chair forward; Philippe Renaud laughed;
Maurice looked at his cousin with amazement.

"What are you saying?" asked Francois Darbois.

Esperance gazed at him tenderly. "You remember my godfather was dining
with us and there had been a lot of talk; my godfather was against
allowing any liberty to women, and he maintained that children have no
right to choose their own careers, but must, without reasoning, give
way to their parents, who alone are to decide their fates."

Adhemar wished to take the floor and cleared his throat in
preparation, but Francois Darbois, evidently a little nonplused,
muttered, "And then after that--what are you coming to?"

"To what you answered, papa."

Her father looked at her a little anxiously, but she met his glance
calmly and continued: "You said to my godfather, 'My dear Meydieux,
you are absolutely mistaken. It is the right and the duty of everyone
to select and to construct his future for himself.'"

Darbois attempted to speak....

"You even told mama, who had never known it, that grandfather wanted
to place you in business, and that you rebelled."

"Ah! rebelled," murmured Darbois, with a slight shrug.

"Yes, rebelled. And you added, 'My father cut off my allowance for a
year, but I stuck to it; I tutored poor students who couldn't get
through their examinations, I lived from hand to mouth, but I did
live, and I was able to continue my studies in philosophy.'"

Uncle Renaud was openly nodding encouragement. Adhemar Meydieux rose
heavily, and straightening up with a succession of jerky movements,
caught himself squarely on his heels, and then, with great conviction,
said: "See here, child, if I were your father, I should take you by
the ear and put you out of the room."

Esperance turned purple.

"I repeat, children should obey without question!"

"I hope to prove to my daughter by reasoning that she is probably
wrong," said M. Darbois very quietly.

"Not at all. You must order, not persuade."

"Now, M. Meydieux," exclaimed the young painter, "it seems to me that
you are going a little too far. Children should respect their parents'
wishes as far as possible; but when it is a question of their own
future, they have a right to present their side of the case. If my
uncle Darbois's father had had his way, my uncle Darbois would
probably now be a mediocre engineer, instead of the brilliant
philosopher who is admired and recognized by the entire world."

Gentle little Madame Darbois sat up proudly, and Esperance looked at
her father with a world of tenderness in her eyes.

"But, my lad," pursued Adhemar, swelling with conviction, "your uncle
might well have made a fortune at machinery, while, as it is, he has
just managed to exist."

"We are very happy"--Madame Darbois slipped in her word.

Esperance had bounded out of her chair, and from behind her father
encircled his head with her arms. "Oh! yes, very happy," she murmured
in a low voice, "and you would not, darling papa, spoil the harmony of

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