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 BernÈs."

"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 BernÈs 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 BernÈs 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 BernÈs, 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 GisÈle twenty-two."

"What are they like?"

"The one sets up for being blasÉ—-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 BernÈs!"

"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 NÉzel."

"What!" exclaimed the count, with an abrupt movement; "Madame de NÉzel—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 NÉzel 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 BernÈs, 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 NÉzel, 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 NÉzel 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 abbÉ.

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:

"Puss in boots came! and called out: 'Help! help! it's the Marquis of Carabas—he's drowning.'"

"There, you see," said Bertrade, laughing, "this is what comes of teaching him so many fine things at the same time."

M. de Rueille added:

"Yes, a day or two ago Denyse gave him a stunning 'Puss in Boots' that we brought with us from Pont-sur-Loire, and this has evidently done Moses a great deal of harm."

Bijou turned towards her cousin, and exclaimed in astonishment:

"Denyse! how long have you taken to calling me Denyse?"

"Oh, I don't know," answered Rueille, "sometimes I do."

"Why, you never do! I thought you were vexed," and then, bending towards her godchild, and taking him up in her arms, she said, laughing: "My poor little Fred, we have not had much success this time, have we?"

Giraud, who was standing just behind her, gazed at her admiringly. She clasped the child, who was smiling at her, closer still, and murmured in a caressing tone:

"Fred! my dear Fred! I do so love you, if you only knew."

On hearing his own name pronounced so tenderly, the young tutor had started involuntarily, and he had had the greatest difficulty in keeping himself from advancing towards Denyse. He had turned so pale, too, and such a strange, drawn look had come over his face, that Pierrot, who, as a rule, was not endowed with much power of observation except in matters relating to Bijou, noticed it, and asked:

"What's the matter with you, Monsieur Giraud? you look so queer! are you ill?"

Denyse turned round abruptly, and asked with interest:

"You are not well, Monsieur Giraud?"

"I? oh, yes! perfectly well, thank you, mademoiselle. I don't know what made Pierrot fancy that."

"Oh, well!" said the youth, with conviction, "look at yourself; you look awfully queer! Besides, for the last three or four days you have not been yourself; you must have something the matter that you don't know of."

"I assure you," stuttered the poor fellow, in a perfect torture, "I assure you that there is nothing the matter with me."

M. de Clagny had approached them. He was looking enviously at little Fred nestling against Bijou's pretty shoulder.

"Your godson is perfectly superb!" he said.

"Yes, isn't he? and he adores me!"

Dinner was announced just at this moment, and Bijou gave the child, who was getting sleepy, to the English nurse who had come for him.

With a disagreeable expression on his face, young La Balue, who was standing just by Denyse, offered her the sharp angle of his arm. With some difficulty she managed to slip her hand through, and, with a resigned look on her face, went in with him to dinner.

At table M. Giraud was at the other side of her, and half wild with delight at finding himself placed next her, he felt that he was more shy and awkward than ever. His timidity, which had hitherto been extreme, seemed to increase. He dared not say a word, and he was in despair, because he felt that he was making himself ridiculous.

He was not only in love with Denyse for her beauty, her grace, and her wonderful charm, but he venerated her for her goodness, which seemed to him to be infinite.

When he had been an usher in a certain college, he had one day murmured some foolish words of affection to the daughter of the headmaster, and he remembered still with awe the contemptuous anger with which the young lady had reproached him for having, in his position, dared to lift his eyes to her.

He had now frankly and bluntly told this beautiful, wealthy, and nobly-born girl that he adored her, and, in reply, she had spoken to him sweetly and affectionately, discouraging him, but taking care not to wound him.

He began now to pity himself and his own fate, firmly believing that his life, having been crossed by this hopeless love, would be wretched for ever-more.

How could he expect that, having once known and loved a woman like Mademoiselle de Courtaix, he would ever be able to love any woman whom he would be in a position to marry.

And the poor young man, who, only three short weeks before, used to dream at times of a little home presided over by a young wife, who should be sweet and modest, though, perhaps, not remarkable in any way, saw himself now condemned for life to a bachelor's dreary rooms, where, in the end, he would die, surrounded by photographs of Bijou, which he would get with great difficulty from Pierrot.

At the beginning of dinner Denyse did not talk much. She looked round in an absent sort of way at the whole table, noticing all those little nothings which are so amusing to persons capable of seeing them.

Madame de Bracieux had M. de la Balue to her right, but she was neglecting him for the sake of her old friend, Clagny, who was on her other side, and to whom she never ceased talking.

M. de Jonzac, who was opposite his sister, between Madame de la Balue and Madame de Tourville, only appeared to be enjoying himself in a moderate degree. Madame de NÉzel also looked rather sad, and talked in a half-hearted way to her neighbours, Henry de Bracieux and M. de Rueille. She glanced often in the direction of Jean de Blaye, who was seated at the other end of the table, between Madame de Juzencourt and Mademoiselle de la Balue. Jean did not seem to be taking any notice of Madame de NÉzel, and several times Bijou saw that his eyes were fixed on her. She found this embarrassing; so turning towards young Balue, started an animated conversation with him, and thereupon Jean, with a somewhat troubled expression in his eyes, watched her all the time.