"Farewell!" he said, "until to-morrow." And then, with a pathetic
little smile, he added: "Or until this evening. Yes,--towards the end
of the day I shall be taken with a violent desire to see her again,
and I shall come as I did the day before yesterday, and Thursday, and
every day."
He took Madame de Bracieux's hand in his, and clasped it nervously, as
he murmured:
"For the sake of our long friendship, I beg you, be merciful to me."
* * * * *
During luncheon the marchioness seemed preoccupied, and several times
M. de Jonzac asked her what she was thinking about.
"Whatever is it?" he said; "you have certainly got the blues."
"Aunt must have gone to bed very late," said Jean de Blaye. "I heard
you all come in; it must have been two o'clock." And then, turning to
Bijou, he asked: "And how did you enjoy yourself? was it nice?"
"Delightful," she answered, in an absent sort of way.
"That little Lisette Renaud is perfectly charming," said M. de
Rueille, "with her beautiful, large sad eyes. You liked her, too, did
you not, grandmamma?"
"Yes," answered Madame de Bracieux, "she is perfectly fascinating, and
she has an admirable voice. I was astonished to find all that in
Pont-sur-Loire; astonished, too, at the elegance of the house. There
were plenty of pretty women, and very well dressed, too."
"Nearly all of them wore pink," put in Denyse, "I noticed that."
"Oh! that is through you," said M. de Rueille. "The Pont-sur-Loire
ladies see you always arrayed in pink, and as you are considered by
them to be _tip-top_, they have taken to pink, too." And seeing that
Bijou looked surprised, he asked: "Well, isn't that quite clear
enough?"
"It is quite clear," she answered, laughing, "but a trifle imaginary.
No one pays any attention to me, my dear Paul." And then, as Madame
de Rueille turned towards her, Bijou appealed to her: "What do you
think about the matter, Bertrade?"
"I think that you are too modest."
"Oh, yes," said Giraud, who was gazing at the young girl with admiring
eyes, "Mademoiselle Denyse is too modest. Yesterday evening everyone
in the house was looking at her, and even the actress herself--"
"It's your imagination, Monsieur Giraud!" exclaimed Bijou,
interrupting him hastily. "I never noticed that anyone was interested
in our box; but even if they were, it does not follow necessarily that
it was at me that--"
"Evidently not," remarked Henry de Bracieux, in a chaffing tone. "It
was grandmamma in whom the natives were so deeply interested."
"No! but it might have been Jeanne Dubuisson."
"Yes, that's true! She is not known at all in Pont-sur-Loire,
therefore the sight of her would naturally make a sensation."
Bijou shrugged her shoulders.
"You know that I have a horror of people making a fuss about me, and
you say things like this all the time to tease me."
"If you have a horror of making a sensation," exclaimed Pierrot,
"that great Gisele de la Balue is not like you, I can tell you. She's
one who would change places with you. Yesterday, at the paper-chase
feed, she was bothering round everyone like a great meat-fly; even
Bernes sent her about her business."
"I think young Bernes is very nice," said the marchioness. "I was
noticing him all the evening yesterday, and I like him very much. He
is very natural, has good manners, and is not by any means stupid."
Jean de Blaye noticed that Bijou was screwing up her lips into a
little pout of indifference.
"You don't appear to be of the same opinion as grandmamma?" he said.
"Oh, dear me! Yes, I am."
"Well, you are not enthusiastic; you may as well own it."
"Why, yes, I own it."
The marchioness turned to her grand-daughter:
"Ah! and what have you against him?"
"Why, nothing, grandmamma, nothing at all! I think he is just like
everyone else, and so when I see him I can't go into ecstasies over
him--that's all."
"I fancy," remarked M. de Rueille, "that the man isn't born yet about
whom you would go into ecstasies. You are very good-hearted, very
indulgent. You look upon everyone as all very well in a negative sort
of way, but, practically, it is quite another matter."
"Oh, you exaggerate!"
"I exaggerate? Well, then, just mention one man, one only, who is
according to your fancy."
"Why, M. de Clagny, for instance!"
"You think he is nice; you like him?" said the marchioness. "Yes, but
how? You would not marry him, I presume?"
"Oh, no!" answered Bijou, laughing, "I don't want to marry him."
Just as they were all leaving the table, Jean de Blaye asked:
"Has anyone any commissions for Pont-sur-Loire?"
"What!" exclaimed Bijou, in surprise, "you are going off to
Pont-sur-Loire like that, all by yourself? Why, whatever are you going
to do there, I wonder?"
"What am I going to do there?" he said, slightly disconcerted. "Why, I
have some things to get."
"Will you take me?"
"Take you? But--"
Ever since the evening when he had told Bijou that he loved her, he
had avoided, as much as possible, all opportunities of being alone
with her. She, on her part, had not changed her behaviour towards him
or Henry de Bracieux in any way. She was just as free and cordial in
her manner with them as she had been before refusing them her hand;
and, indeed, it seemed as though she had forgotten they had proposed
to her.
"What?"--she asked, looking astonished. "You won't take me with you?"
Thoroughly uncomfortable, and dreading the long _tete-a-tete_, yet not
daring in the presence of all the others to refuse to take Bijou, he
answered, in a joking tone:
"Why, yes! On the contrary, I am highly flattered by the honour you
are doing me!"
"That's all right, then. You are very kind."
"Oh, very; but, all the same, you will have to take someone else to be
with you as well, because I have some business."
"Oh!" said Denyse, in a disappointed tone, "you don't want me with you
when we get there."
"But, Bijou, my dear," put in Madame de Bracieux, "you could not,
anyhow, go there--just you two! It does not matter if Jean is your
first cousin; it would not be the thing, you know! You must take
Josephine with you; and even then I don't know whether I ought to
allow it--"
"But whatever do you want to do in Pont-sur-Loire?" she added, after a
pause.
"Oh, only some errands, grandmamma; you forget that there are always
errands to be done for the house. And then, too, I can go and see
Jeanne; it is just the day when M. Spiegel is busy and does not go so
that I shall not interrupt their billing and cooing."
"It does not seem to me as though they do much billing and cooing!"
said M. de Jonzac. "I was watching them yesterday at the paper-chase,
and I'm very much mistaken if that engagement is not a very
half-and-half sort of affair."
"But why should you think that, Uncle Alexis?" asked Bijou, looking
troubled.
"Because the girl looks sad, and the professor indifferent. Haven't
you noticed that?"
"No; but then I don't notice things much," she answered.
* * * * *
On the way from Bracieux to Pont-sur-Loire, Bijou and Jean were
silent.
In the town just near the station, they met Madame de Nezel, who had
come in from The Pines by the half-past two train. On seeing her,
Bijou made a little movement, and was just about to speak to her
cousin, but, on second thoughts, she said nothing, and only looked up
at him, with a sweet expression in her bright eyes. Jean, feeling
awkward and confused, had pretended not to see Madame de Nezel, and
she, instead of going on into the centre of the town, had turned down
a narrow street, by some waste ground and gardens. As she got out of
the carriage with Josephine at the Dubuissons' door, Bijou asked:
"Where shall I find you? And at what time?"
"At the hotel; I will tell them to put the horse in at six o'clock if
that will suit you?"
"At six o'clock!" she exclaimed, in astonishment. "Oh, well! you
_must_ have plenty of things to do! Three hours and a half of shopping
in Pont-sur-Loire!"
Impatient and wishing above all things to escape Bijou's innocent
questioning, Jean offered to start earlier, but she refused.
"Oh, no! why should you? I shall be delighted to stay as long as you
wish with Jeanne!"
Mademoiselle Dubuisson was at home. Denyse thought she looked sad, and
her eyes had dark circles round them.
"What is the matter now?" she asked. "There's something wrong."
"Yes, things are not quite right."
"Is--your _fiance_?"
"Oh, it's just the same."
"Which means----"
"That I think he has got--well--a little cool. But there is something
else that has upset me to-day."
"What is it?"
"Oh, well! it is an event that really does not concern me at all; but
it has made me feel wretched all the same." She avoided looking at
Bijou as she continued: "You know that--Lisette Renaud?"
"Yes. Well?"
"Well, she is dead--this morning."
"Dead!--What of?"
"People think she killed herself," said Jeanne, almost in a whisper.
"But how?"
"By taking morphia. You know they could not go into details before me,
but I understood, from what they were saying, that it was after an
explanation she had had with M. de Bernes."
"When?"
"Yesterday after the theatre, or else this morning. Papa and M.
Spiegel were talking of it at luncheon; but in a vague sort of way, so
that I should not understand."
"How fearfully sad!--I can quite understand that it should have upset
you."
"Yes; it is only natural, and all the more so as, just now, troubles
from love affairs touch me very nearly--and for a good reason!" she
added, with a sad little smile.
"That poor little actress!" said Bijou, in a tone of regret. "As a
rule, I don't care much for women who are on the stage, but this one
seemed to be nice, and then, she really did sing well--it is a
pity!--M. de Bernes must be wretched!"
"Do you think people really are so wretched when they cause others to
suffer?" asked Jeanne, still not looking at Bijou. "I don't think they
are! There are the thoughtless people, who make others suffer without
knowing it, and then there are the others, who cause people to suffer
because it amuses them; and neither the former nor the latter know
what it is to feel remorse--"
As Jeanne stood still, lost in thought, a far-away look in her eyes,
Bijou stroked her friend's face gently.
"There, don't think any more about these sad things, Jeanne, dear,"
she said. "Your grief won't change anything when the mischief is
already done, and you are making yourself wretched all in vain. Come,
now, let us talk about our play, and about dress, or no matter
what--oh! by the bye, about dress, does yours fit well at last?"
"It fits; but it does not suit me!"
"Oh, that's impossible!"
"No, it's very natural, on the contrary! I have not your complexion,
remember! I am paler than you are, and that pink makes me paler still;
and then I am thin, and the little gathered bodice, which shows up
your pretty figure to perfection, makes me look no figure at all--it
does not matter, though--it's of no importance whatever!"
"What do you mean by saying it is of no importance?"
"Why, yes, don't you see, Bijou dear, that whether one is well or
badly dressed, if one is just common-place as I am, one would always
pass unnoticed by the side of anyone as beautiful as you are."
Bijou turned her eyes up towards the ceiling, and said, in a
half-serious, half-joking way:
"My poor dear child, you are wandering--you don't know at all what you
are talking about!" And then suddenly changing her tone she asked:
"What time do you start to the races to-morrow?"
"I don't know. Papa will have arranged that with M. Spiegel. Ah, tell
me! shall you go early to the Tourvilles' dance? I don't want to get
there before you."
Denyse was looking at her watch.
"Oh! I must go!" she exclaimed. "They want some gardenias at home for
button-holes; I don't know where I shall be able to get any; someone
told me of a florist up by the station somewhere."
"By the station? but there are only market-gardeners there, no
florists."
"Yes, it seems that in that little lane--you know--to the right of the
quay--"
"Lilac Lane, I know where you mean; but there are only vegetable
gardens there, and some waste ground, and then a few small houses,
that are generally rented by officers because they are near to the
barracks."
"Well, anyhow," said Bijou, getting up, "I'll go and look round
there!"
* * * * *
Denyse was the first to arrive at the hotel. Jean de Blaye was rather
behind time, and when he did appear, he looked sad, and his face was
very pale. He had met Madame de Nezel by appointment, but she had only
come to break off entirely with him, and this freedom was of no use to
him now; but, at the same time, there was nothing left for him to do
but accept his fate. They were both wretched and discontented with
each other, and yet they had been obliged to stay together at their
trysting-place, because Bijou, escorted by the old housekeeper
Josephine, had been rambling up and down the lonely lane for a good
part of the afternoon. She had gone backwards and forwards as though
in search of something, and with a persistency which Jean could not
understand, and which made him feel very uneasy.
When they were driving across the square by the station at three
o'clock, she had, perhaps, seen Madame de Nezel turning down Lilac
Lane. If that were so, she had probably wanted to assure herself
whether her suspicions were correct. How inquisitive and fond of
ferreting she must be, then--this Denyse whom he loved so dearly, and
who had, without knowing it, ruined his whole life.
He apologised for his unpunctuality, and helped Bijou into the
carriage, whilst she assured him in the sweetest way that he was not
late at all.
Just as he was wondering how he could ask her what she had been doing,
she volunteered the information he wanted.
"Do you know you will have your gardenias for to-morrow after all? But
it _has_ been difficult to get them. I have been running about all
over Pont-sur-Loire nearly all the afternoon. They sent me to the
queerest little streets, where I got lost, and never found the place
at all."
Delighted at this proof of Bijou's innocence, Jean exclaimed
involuntarily:
"Ah! that was what you were hanging about for in Lilac Lane?"
She fixed her large astonished eyes on him, as she asked:
"However did you know? Did you see me?"
"I did not," he answered quickly; "one of my friends told me."
"Who was it? Do I know him--your friend?"
"I don't think so; he's an officer in Bernes' regiment. Ah, by the
bye, what do you think! The poor little actress you heard last
night--well, she has killed herself!"
"Yes, I know; it is a great pity!"
Bijou said this in a tone which made it impossible to continue the
conversation on this topic. She was so dignified, and her meaning was
so plain, that Jean almost regretted having said a word to her of this
affair, considering that it was a trifle delicate; but, after all, as
he said to himself, Bijou was no child; she would soon be twenty-two!
* * * * *
At four o'clock, M. de Clagny arrived at Bracieux, his heart beating
fast at the thought of seeing Bijou again, and of seeing her quite
free and unconstrained as usual, for she would not yet know of his
proposal.
He was very much disappointed on hearing that she was at
Pont-sur-Loire, and that she had gone there with Jean. He asked the
marchioness to tell him candidly just what she thought would be the
result of his advances with reference to the young girl, and Madame de
Bracieux replied that she could not approach the subject now, as
Denyse had declared to them all that very morning that "she thought M.
de Clagny charming, but that she should not like to marry him."
He stood the shock fairly well, but insisted that Bijou should be told
that evening of his proposal. She would then have until the next day
to think it over, and that was what he wished.
Denyse and Jean returned just at dinner-time. When they came
downstairs, everyone was at the table, and the topic of conversation
was the death of poor Lisette Renaud.
M. de Rueille had been out riding, and had met some officers, who were
on duty there, and who had, of course, told him the story.
"It is fearful," said Bertrade, "to think of that poor girl killing
herself; she was so pretty, and so young."
"It is just because one is young that one would commit suicide, if
unhappy; otherwise one would have to go on being wretched for so long
a time," said Giraud in a strange voice, which resounded in the
spacious dining-room.