Part 5

He lost his head completely as he looked at her standing there. She was so pretty with her complexion, still pink and white, in spite of the terrible heat, and her large eyes, with their changing expression, were fixed on him with such a gentle look.

"Yes, certainly," she said, slightly embarrassed too, "I wanted to speak to Pierrot; although it is about something that concerns you--it would be better----"

"Something which concerns me?" interrupted Giraud, looking uneasy; "but I do not know really--I wonder what----"

The thought flashed across him that she was perhaps going to say that, after what had taken place the night before last, he could not remain any longer at Bracieux. He was in despair, for not only would he have to leave Bijou, but he would probably get no employment for the next two months, just as he had thought to have a little peace and comfort.

The young girl was looking at him, and smiling kindly.

"You see, it is very difficult to say it to--to the person concerned," she answered at length.

"Well, but--Pierrot."

"Oh! Pierrot is not a very clever diplomatist, I grant, but he would have known better than I do how to go about things in order to announce to you----"

"To announce to me?"

"The fact that you are going to dine with us this evening. A headache, you know, is a very good excuse for women, but only for women."

"But, mademoiselle, without taking into account the annoyance it would be to me (and it would annoy me very much) not to be dressed as the others are, it would not be polite towards your guests."

"Yes, you are perhaps right; it would not be the thing, perhaps, if you were the only one who was not in evening dress; but there will be M. de Clagny just as he is now, to pay a call; so you understand."

"Mademoiselle, I caught sight of M. de Clagny just now when he arrived. He is an old gentleman, and as such can take liberties about certain matters which I, particularly in my position, could not."

"As to you, you are just going to obey grandmamma like a good little boy, for it was grandmamma who sent me, you know."

"Ah!" murmured the young man, disappointed, "it was your grandmamma? I was hoping it was you, who--but you are still vexed with me, of course?"

"Vexed with you?" she asked, surprised; "what for?"

"Well--because--oh, you know--the other evening--when, in spite of myself, I----"

Bijou's merry face clouded over as she said very seriously:

"I thought that would never be brought up again. I wish you to forget what you said to me." She stood still a moment, with a pensive look on her beautiful face, and then she added, in a muffled voice: "And, above all, I wish to forget it myself."

Her eyelids were lowered, and her eyelashes were beating quickly against her pink cheeks throwing a strange shadow over her brilliant complexion.

Giraud went up to her, anxious and excited, and in a stammering voice he asked:

"Is it true what you have just said? Do you still remember that moment of madness? Can you think of it without anger?"

"Yes," she answered, gazing full at him with her beautiful blue eyes, "I think of it without anger," and then, in such a low voice that he could scarcely hear it, she murmured, "and I _do_ think of it all the time!" Then, with a sudden change of expression, she began again hurriedly: "It is you who must forget now; you must forget at once--what I ought never to have said to you! Please forget it! Do as I ask you, for my sake!"

"Forget? How do you think that I can forget? You know well enough that it is absolutely impossible!"

"You must, though!" she persisted. "Yes, you must say to yourself that you--that we have had a dream--a very bright, happy dream,--one of those sort from which one wakes up happy, and, at the same time, troubled; a dream in which one has a vision of beautiful things, which disappear, and which we cannot possibly define. Have you never had such dreams? One cannot, no matter how much one tries, remember all about them; and yet--one likes them."

Her voice, with its caressing intonation, completely unnerved the young man. He had taken his seat again mechanically at the table, and, without replying, he looked up at Bijou, his eyes full of tears.

She came nearer, and said in a beseeching tone:

"Ah! please don't, if you only knew how wretched it makes me--" and then she added abruptly: "and if it is any consolation to you--you can say to yourself that you are not the only one to suffer--for I do, too."

"Is it really, really true?" he asked, bewildered with his happiness.

Denyse did not answer. She had just noticed on the table a letter, which Giraud had been finishing when she entered the room.

"I was writing to my brother," he said, following the direction of her eyes, "and instead of telling him about my pupil, and my occupations, and, in short, about such things as, in my position of life, I ought to confine myself to, I have only told him about you."

"I was looking at your name," she answered, pointing with her rosy finger to the signature; "Fred--it is a name I am fond of; I gave it to my little godchild, the youngest of Bertrade's children." She seemed to be looking far away through the open window as she repeated very gently: "Fred!" And then passing her little hand over her forehead, and walking towards the door, she said abruptly: "And this dinner--and my flowers for the table,--why, the _menus_ are not written yet, and it is five o'clock!" And then, as the poor fellow looked stupefied and did not attempt to move, she went on: "It's settled about this evening, is it not? I shall have your place laid?"

He answered, in a vague, bewildered way, coming gradually to himself again:

"Amongst all the others in dress-coats, I shall cut the most ridiculous figure."

"Oh, no,--nothing of the kind! Besides, they will not all be in dress-coats. First of all, there is M. de Clagny in a frock-coat; and then M. de Bernes, who is afraid of meeting his General, and so is always arrayed in his uniform: then the abbe in his cassock," and with a laugh she concluded: "That makes three of them who will not be in dress-coats!"

* * * * *

As she was leaving the schoolroom, she ran against Henry de Bracieux, who was coming towards her in the corridor.

"Well, I never!" he exclaimed, in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"And you?"

"I? Why, I was going back to my room."

"And I was coming away from Pierrot's."

"Pierrot is in the garden."

"I did not know, and I had something to say to him."

"To him?" asked the young man suspiciously, and almost aggressively, "or to M. Giraud?"

Without appearing to notice her cousin's singular attitude towards her, she answered, in a docile way:

"To him, so that he might repeat it to M. Giraud, but as he was not there----"

"It is to Giraud that you have----"

"Given grandmamma's message. Yes," and then, with an innocent expression in her eyes, she asked: "Why does it interest you so much to know whether I gave this message to the one rather than to the other?"

He replied, in a joking tone, but with some embarrassment:

"Because I am inquisitive, probably; and the proof that I am inquisitive is that I should like to know what this message was."

"Grandmamma commissioned me to tell M. Giraud, who has no dress-coat----"

"No dress-coat--Giraud?"

"No."

"Not a dress-coat at all?"

"There, you say just what I did. No, not a dress-coat of any description! He had sent word that he would not dine with us; and then, as M. de Clagny is staying to dinner, and he is in a frock-coat, I was going to tell Pierrot, so that he could let M. Giraud know. Do you understand now?"

"Yes," replied Henry, "quite well--but Jean is very _chic_ and never goes about without a change of dress-coats; he has, at least, three here; he would certainly lend him one--they are exactly the same figure."

"That would be nice!"

"Oh, he would be glad to do it! Giraud is a very nice fellow; we should all like him, if----"

He stopped short, and Bijou asked:

"If what?"

"Oh, nothing! I'll go and see about this business--at old Clagny's time of life it doesn't matter whether one is got up all right or not; but for Giraud, it's another thing. I am sure he would feel it very much if he thought he looked ridiculous, especially----"

"Especially?"

"Especially before you!"

Bijou shrugged her shoulders, and ran away down the long corridor.

VI.

ALTHOUGH Bijou had superintended the laying of the cloth, and had herself attended to the flowers, the service, and the _menus_, she was ready for dinner before anyone else.

Carrying in her arms an enormous bunch of roses, she entered the drawing-room just as the marchioness had gone upstairs to dress.

She was so much taken up with arranging her flowers on a side-table that she did not see M. de Clagny, who was watching her attentively as she came and went, with the pretty, graceful movements of a bird as it flies backwards and forwards before finally perching itself.

At length, however, he spoke, and the sound of his voice made Denyse start.

"It's very certain that it came direct from Paris--that pretty dress," he said.

"Oh!" exclaimed Bijou, scared, "you nearly frightened me." And then, going up to the count, and daintily patting her light, gauzy dress, she continued: "That pretty dress did not come from Paris; it was made at Bracieux, near Pont-sur-Loire."

Thoroughly astonished, the count asked:

"Oh, no! by whom, then?"

"By Denyse, here present, and by an old sewing-woman, who is a dresser at the theatre."

He had risen, and was now walking round the young girl in almost timid admiration. She was so pretty, emerging from the pinky-looking cloud, which seemed to scarcely touch her dainty little figure, and out of which peeped her shoulders, tinted, too, with that singular pinky gleam which made her delicate skin look so velvety and soft.

M. de Clagny could not help thinking that Bijou was not only beautiful to look at, but fascinating in the extreme, with her tempting mouth, and her innocent, frank eyes. The charm of her person was rendered all the more complex by this same child-like expression.

Whilst he was examining her curiously, Bijou was saying to herself that "this old friend of grandmamma's" was much younger-looking than she had imagined him to be. He certainly did make a good appearance, tall and slender, with his hair quite white on his temples, whilst his fair moustache had scarcely a touch of grey. His brown eyes had a gentle expression, and his mouth, sometimes mocking, and at times even almost cruel, showed, when he smiled, the sharp, white teeth, which lighted up his whole face in a singular way.

The silence was getting embarrassing, until Bijou at last broke it:

"Grandmamma has not come down then yet? I expected to find her here."

"She went away to dress just as you came in."

"She will never be ready."

M. de Clagny looked at his watch.

"But dinner is to be at eight--she has plenty of time; it is not half-past seven."

"Oh!" exclaimed Bijou regretfully. "If only I had known, I should not have hurried so much. I was so afraid of being late."

"I'm the one to be glad that you hurried so much. I shall have you to talk to for a minute"--

"For a good half-hour at least," she said, laughing; "no one is ever in advance here--oh, never, not even the guests any more than the people of the house."

"Ah, about the guests, tell me with whom I am going to dine. Your grandmamma said, 'You will dine with some friends of yours.' Now, as to friends, I cannot have many here now, considering that for the last twelve years I have not been in this part of the world. There have probably been many changes since then."

"Not so many as all that; let's see, now! you will dine with the Tourvilles."

"The Tourvilles? they are not dead yet?"

"Those with whom you are going to dine are living. They had some parents who are dead."

"Ah! that's it, is it! then young Tourville is married?"

"Yes, two years ago!"

"He was a disagreeable fellow! Has he made a good marriage?"

"That depends! he married a young lady on the Stock Exchange."

"What do you mean? a young lady on the Stock Exchange?"

"Yes, her father is something there, I believe; he is very, very rich."

"Is it Chaillot, the banker?"

"Perhaps so, I never asked about them--they have restored Tourville, it is superb now; and they are always entertaining."

"Is Madame de Tourville pretty?"

"You will see her; she is very pleasant, and they say she is very intelligent; for my part, I have not discovered that." And then, as M. de Clagny smiled, she added quickly: "Because I only know her very slightly."

"Well, and after the Tourvilles, who next?"

"M. de Bernes."

"Young Hubert, the dragoon?"

"He himself."

"He is the son of good friends of mine; a downright nice fellow, don't you think so?"

"Don't I think what?"

"That Hubert de Bernes is nice?"

"Oh! I know him so slightly; he has always seemed to me--how shall I express it?--insipid, yes, insipid."

"Because you intimidate him, probably? I can quite understand that, too!"

"I intimidate _you_, perhaps?" she said, laughing.

"Very much so!" he answered, very seriously.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, in astonishment, "how is that possible?"

"It is very possible, and it is true! There's nothing astonishing about it then, that if you intimidate an old man like me, you should intimidate poor little Hubert."

"Little Hubert? he is six feet!"

"Yes, and he is twenty-six years old, but to me he is always little Hubert. Well, anyhow, admit at least that he is handsome?"

"I don't know!"

"Are you going to tell me that you have not looked at him?"

"I have looked at him; but as regards M. de Bernes I am a very bad judge."

"Why so?"

"Because I detest young men!"

"At the age of twenty-six they are not so young as all that!"

"That may be so! but, all the same, at that age they do not exist as far as I am concerned."

"Well, well! and at what age do they begin to exist as far as you are concerned?"

She laughed.

"Very late in life!" she said, and then suddenly changing her tone, she continued: "I am glad you know M. de Bernes, because, at any rate, you will not be bored to death now this evening."

"Ah! it appears, then, that I am not to count on the other guests for entertainment?"

"Oh, no! the others--well, first of all there are the La Balues."

"Good heavens, they are alarming! Why, their children must be beginning to grow up?"

"They have even finished growing up! Louis is twenty-three, and Gisele twenty-two."

"What are they like?"

"The one sets up for being _blase_---he is never either hungry, thirsty, or sleepy; he does not care for anything; everything bores him. And it is not true, you know! he never misses a dance, and his sister says that he gets up in the night to eat on the sly. Then, too, he writes ridiculous poetry, paints pictures as absurd as his poetry, and goes in for music--such music!"

"And the daughter?"

"She is as masculine as her brother is effeminate; she goes shooting and hunting, and her dream is to go in for deer-stalking, and to marry an officer."

"She is probably thinking of Hubert?"

"What Hubert?"

"Young Bernes!"

"Ah! But I don't fancy so! At all events, he is not thinking about her--"

"Because he is too much taken up with you, like all the others; is not that so?"

"Not at all!"

M. de Clagny shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, nonsense!" he said, "I can see it all quite plainly."

"There are only three guests left now for me to introduce to you," continued Bijou, evidently wishing to change the subject of the conversation. "There are the Juzencourts--people who are very much up-to-date, and who have bought 'The Pines'--and one of their friends who is staying for a month with them, a delightful young widow, the Viscountess de Nezel."

"What!" exclaimed the count, with an abrupt movement; "Madame de Nezel--Jean de Blaye is here then?"

Denyse opened her beautiful, bright eyes wide, as she replied in astonishment:

"Yes, Jean is here; but what has that to do with----?"

"Oh, nothing at all! nothing at all!" said M. de Clagny hastily, and then after a moment's silence, he asked: "Is Madame de Nezel as pretty as ever?"

"She is very pretty."

"As pretty as you?"

Bijou smiled. "Why do you make fun of me? I know very well that I am not pretty," she said.

"It's my turn now, my dear little Bijou, to ask why you make fun of an old friend who admires you as much as it is possible to admire anyone, and who, alas! is not the only one."

"Why do you say alas?"

"Well, because when one admires or loves, one would like to be the only one to admire or love; one's affection makes one selfish and jealous."

"And after--let me see--how long--three hours--yes, after three hours' acquaintance, you already have some affection for me?" asked Bijou, looking quite joyful.

"Yes, a great deal!" answered M. de Clagny very seriously.

"So much the better, because, you see, I too, I like you very much!" And, as though she were just talking to herself, she added: "I had imagined you very different, I expected to see you not at all like you are."

"Younger?" he asked sadly.

"Oh, no, just the opposite; they had always spoken of you as a friend of grandpapa's, and grandmamma always said, 'my old friend Clagny,' so that you can understand when I saw you, I was quite surprised."

"But why?"

"Because you looked to me to be--I don't know exactly--about forty-five perhaps?--well, say like Paul de Rueille; and then, you are very handsome, and, for my part, I like people who are handsome."

"Your cousin De Blaye is handsome!"

"Jean?" she said, as though she were turning it over in her mind, "is he as handsome as all that? He does not strike me in that way, you see. When people are always together they end by not noticing each other!"

"I am quite sure that he notices you!"

"Oh, no! people don't notice me as much as you think! They care for me because I was left alone in the world at the age of seventeen; and then, when grandmamma took possession of me, like some poor little stray dog, and carried me off to her home, why, they all felt interested in me, and made me very welcome, and I was their Bijou whom they all tried to bring up and to spoil, whose faults are always looked over, and who always has her own way."

"And Bijou is quite right; that's the only good thing there is in life--having one's own way, when one can."

"One always can," she said, speaking as though she were not aware that she was saying anything, and then suddenly advancing towards the bay-window, she exclaimed: "Ah! there, now! the Tourvilles! and grandmamma is not down stairs again yet!"

Bijou went forward to greet the new-comers--a lady dressed very handsomely, followed by a common-looking sort of man, with very stiff manners, who, on the whole, was decidedly snobbish.

Bijou introduced them, "Count de Clagny, Count de Tourville," and then, as the marchioness entered the room, looking very handsome still in her cloudy lace draperies, the young girl turned to M. de Clagny again.

"Well," she said, "and what do you think of the Tourvilles?"

"I don't admire them. But how much Henry de Bracieux has improved in appearance; he is not as good-looking as his cousin yet; but that may come, perhaps."

"As good-looking as which cousin?"

"As Blaye."

"Again. Oh, well! you will insist on this beauty of Jean's."

"Well, beauty is perhaps not just the word; but he is charming; if you will allow me to say that?"

"I will allow it."

"By the bye, do tell me who that very nice-looking young man is whom I met just now at the end of the avenue?"

"I do not know, unless it were Pierrot's tutor; but he is not so very nice-looking----"

"Look, there he is," said M. de Clagny, indicating M. Giraud.

"Ah!" exclaimed Bijou, in astonishment; "yes, that is he!"

She was amazed both at the count's admiration, and at the transformation which Jean's dress-coat had made.

Arrayed in this garment of a perfect cut, and which fitted him wonderfully well, the young tutor looked quite at his ease.

"Well," said Henry, coming up to Denyse, "wasn't my idea a bright one? Do you see the difference?"--and then, as she did not answer quickly enough for his liking, he added: "I'll bet anything you don't see it; women never can see those things when it's a question of men."

The guests were all arriving. First the La Balues, imperturbable, absurd in the extreme, but so blissfully happy, so full of admiration, and so perfectly satisfied with themselves that one would have been sorry to have undeceived them. Then came Hubert de Bernes, arrayed, as Bijou had prophesied, in his uniform, and looking all round the drawing-room carefully afraid of meeting what he was in the habit of calling '_any big pots_.' The Juzencourts arrived last of all, bringing with them Madame de Nezel, a very pretty and exquisitely-dressed woman. She was extremely refined-looking and supple, with that suppleness peculiar to Creoles; she had a jessamine-like complexion, and heavy, silky hair of jet black.

Bijou, who was looking at her with an expression of curiosity, as though she had never seen her before, remarked to M. de Clagny:

"Madame de Nezel is really very pretty--isn't she?"

He replied, in an absent sort of way, devouring Bijou all the time with his eyes:

"There is no mistaking that she comes of good family, and then, too, she's very womanly, and would respond----"

The young girl knitted her eyebrows as though she were making an effort to understand.

"And would what?"

"Oh, nothing," answered the count, annoyed with himself. "I don't know what I was going to say."

"Bijou!" called out the marchioness suddenly, "Madame de Juzencourt wants to see the children; go and fetch them. You will allow them to come down, Bertrade? and you, too, monsieur?" she added, turning to the abbe.

M. de Clagny looked vexed at being separated from Denyse. It seemed to him already as though he could not do without her.

She soon came back, followed by Marcel and Robert, leading by the hand a superb baby-child of four years old, who was smiling amiably and confidingly as he trotted along.

"This is my godson," she said, introducing him with evident pride. "Isn't he a pet, and so beautiful and good. He's a love!"

"Bijou is so good to that child," said Madame de Rueille, "she is always looking after him and is teaching him now to read."

"So early!" exclaimed M. de Clagny, in a reproachful tone, "is he being taught to read already?"

"Bijou teaches him plenty of other things, too, don't you, Bijou?" asked the marchioness; "you are teaching him Bible history, are you not? Two days ago he told me about Moses, and he knew it all very well."

"Oh!" exclaimed the count jeeringly, "I should like to hear that. Poor unfortunate little mite!"

In a graceful, winsome way, Bijou knelt down by the child. On hearing "his story" mentioned, the poor little fellow looked at her beseechingly.

"Now, Fred, tell it," she said.

Docile, but with a discontented expression on his face, the little fellow looked up at his god-mother.

"Tell about Moses, you know it very well."

"Well then," began Fred resolutely, "they put him in a 'ittle basket, 'ittle Moses, and they put the basket on the Nile----"

He stopped abruptly, his face bathed in perspiration.

"And then, what happened?" asked Bijou.

"Don't know," replied the little fellow briefly; "don't know any more--don't know, I tell you. Say it yourself--what happened."

"Nonsense! come now, have you made up your mind not to answer?"

The child replied coaxingly:

"P'ease don't make me say it!"

Denyse insisted, however.

"Oh, yes! now something happened when Moses was going down the Nile. What was it--what happened?"

He thought for a minute, his face puckered up, his eyes shut, and then, just when everyone had given up hoping for anything more, he cried out, delighted at having remembered: