"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 Nezel 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 Nezel, 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.