"Three o'clock," said Renée, looking up at the time-piece from the
little woollen stocking she was knitting. "Really, I begin to think
Noémi will not come to-day. She'll spoil the rehearsal. We shall have to
fine her."
"Noémi?" put in Mme. Mauperin, as though she had just woke up. "Why, she
isn't coming. Oh, I never told you! I don't know what's the matter with
me--I forget everything lately. She told me last time that very probably
she would not be able to come to-day. They are expecting some people--I
fancy--I forget----"
"Well, that's pleasant! There is nothing more tiresome than that--to
expect people who don't come after all. And this morning when I woke I
said to myself, 'It's Noémi's day.' I was looking forward to having her.
Oh, it's quite certain she won't come now. It's funny how I miss her
now--Noémi, when she isn't here--ever since she began to take me on
again. I miss her just as though she were one of the family. I don't
think her amusing, she isn't lively, she isn't at all gay, and then as
regards intelligence, why, she's rather feeble--you can take her in so
easily. And yet--how is it now?--in spite of all that there is a
fascination about her. There is something so sweet, so very sweet about
her, and it seems to penetrate you. She calms your nerves, positively,
and then the effect she has on you--why, she seems to warm your heart
for you, and only by being there, near you. I've known lots of girls who
had really more in them, but they haven't what she has. I've always felt
as cold as steel with all of them."
"Oh, well, it's very simple," said Denoisel. "Mlle. Bourjot is of a very
affectionate, loving disposition. There is a sort of current of
affection between such natures and others."
"When she was quite little, I can remember, she was just the same--and
so sensitive. How she used to cry, and how fond she was of kissing me;
it was amazing--she did nothing else, in fact. And her face tells you
just what she is, doesn't it? Her beauty seems to be made up of all the
affection she feels, and of all that she has left of her childhood about
her. And above all it is her expression. You often feel rather wicked
and spiteful, but when she looks at you with that expression of hers it
is as though everything of that kind disappears--as though something is
melting away. Would you believe that I never ventured to play a single
trick on her, and yet I was a terrible tease in the old days!"
"Nevertheless, it's very extraordinary to be as affectionate as all
that," said Mme. Mauperin.
"Oh, no, it's quite natural," answered Denoisel. "Imagine a girl, who is
born with the instinct of loving, just as we have the instinct of
breathing. She is repelled by the coldness of a mother, who feels
herself humiliated by her daughter, and who is ashamed of her; she is
repelled also by the selfishness of a father, who has no other pride, no
other love, and no other child but his wealth; well, a girl like this
would be just like Mlle. Bourjot, and in return for any trifling
interest you might take in her, she would repay you by the affection and
the effusions of which you speak. Her heart would simply overflow with
gratitude and love, and you would see in her eyes the expression Renée
has noticed, an expression which seems to shine out through tears."