"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:
"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."