ON going to bed at five in the morning, Bijou slept for two hours, and
when, later on, she went to the marchioness's room, she looked as
fresh and as thoroughly rested as after a long night's sleep.
"Grandmamma," she said, "I have been thinking a great deal ever since
yesterday."
"About what?"
"Why, about what you told me as regards M. de Clagny."
"Ah!" said the marchioness, rather annoyed at a subject being brought
up again, which she had thought over and done with.
Rather selfish, like nearly all elderly people, it seemed to her
utterly useless to trouble about matters which were painful or sad,
except just to settle them off once for all.
"I have been thinking," continued Bijou. "And then, too, I saw M. de
Clagny last night at the ball--"
"Well, and what is the result of all this thinking and of this
interview?" asked the marchioness, rather anxiously.
"The result is that I have changed my mind."
"What do you say?"
"I say that, with your permission, I will marry M. de Clagny."
"Nonsense! you won't do anything of the kind."
"Why not?"
"Because it would be madness."
"Why, no, grandmamma, it would be very wise, on the contrary; if I did
not marry him, I should never again all my life long have a minute's
peace."
"Because?--"
"Because I have seen that he is dreadfully and horribly unhappy."
"No doubt; but that will all be forgotten in time."
"Oh, no, it won't be forgotten! And I told you I like M. de Clagny
more than I have ever liked anyone--except you; and so the idea that
he is wretched on my account--and, perhaps, a little through my
fault--would seem odious to me, and would make me unhappy--much more
unhappy even than he is."
"But you would be still more so if you married him. Listen, Bijou,
dear, you know nothing about life, nor about marriage. I have,
perhaps, been wrong in bringing you up so strictly, not letting you
read or hear enough about things; there are certain duties and
obligations which marriage imposes upon us, and about which you know
nothing, and these duties--well, you ought to know something about
them, before rushing headlong into such a terrible venture as this."
"No!" said Bijou, with a gesture to prevent Madame de Bracieux
continuing, "don't tell me anything, grandmamma. I know what
responsibilities I should have to accept, and what my duty would be,
and I have decided--decided irrevocably--to become the wife of M. de
Clagny, whom I love dearly." And then, as the marchioness made a
movement as though to protest, she repeated: "Yes, I love him dearly;
and the proof is that the idea of marrying him does not terrify me,
whilst the thought of marrying the others made me feel a sort of
repulsion."
She knelt down in front of the marchioness, and began again in a
coaxing voice:
"Say that you will consent, grandmamma; say so--do, please."
"You are nearly twenty-two. I cannot overrule you as though you were a
little child, therefore I consent, but without any enthusiasm, I can
assure you, and I implore you to reconsider the matter, Bijou, my
dear. I am afraid that you are following the impulse of your kind
heart and of your extremely sensitive nature and making a mistake that
will be irreparable."
"I do not need to consider the matter any more; I have done nothing
else ever since yesterday; and I know that this is my only chance of
happiness, or of what at any rate seems to be the most like happiness.
Don't say anything to anyone about it, will you, grandmamma?"
"Oh, dear no! you can be easy on that score; you don't imagine that I
am in a hurry to announce such an engagement, and to contemplate the
horrified, astonished looks they will all put on. Oh, no; if you think
I am in a hurry, you are mistaken, my darling."
"And above all, don't say anything to M. de Clagny; I am enjoying the
thought of telling him this evening."
"But he told me that he should not come--"
"Ah! but he promised me that he would come." And then, holding up her
merry face to be kissed, she added: "And now I must go and attend to
our scenery, and to the footlights, which won't light, and to my
costume, which is not finished."
The marchioness took Bijou's head in her beautiful hands, which were
still so white and smooth, and kissing her, murmured:
"Go, then; and may Heaven grant that we shall have no cause to
regret--your good-heartedness--and--my weakness."
* * * * *
The Dubuissons and M. Spiegel had promised to come at four o'clock.
One of the scenes which did not go very well had to be rehearsed.
Bijou, who was busy gathering flowers, went towards the cab when they
arrived, and was surprised to see only Jeanne and her father.
"What have you done with M. Spiegel?" she asked.
It was M. Dubuisson who answered, in a confused sort of way:
"He is coming--with your cousin M. de Rueille, who was at
Pont-sur-Loire and who offered to bring him."
"Don't disturb your grandmamma," said Jeanne, taking Bijou's arm.
"Papa won't come in yet, he has his lecture to prepare, and he will go
and do it, walking about in the park." And then, as soon as M.
Dubuisson had moved off, she began again: "If M. Spiegel and I had not
had parts in the play, and so had not been afraid of spoiling it for
you by not appearing, we should not have come."
"You would not have come?" exclaimed Bijou, in astonishment; "and why
not, pray?"
"Because we are now in the most false and ridiculous position."
"You?"
"Yes, we are--our engagement is broken off."
"Broken off!" repeated Bijou, in consternation; "broken off! but what
for?"
"Because I was quite certain that he cared for me very little or not
at all," answered Jeanne, speaking very calmly, but not looking at
Bijou, "and so I told him this morning that I did not feel equal to
accepting the life of misery which I foresaw, and that I gave him back
his liberty."
"Good heavens, is it possible--and you do not regret anything?"
"Nothing! I am very wretched, but my mind is more easy."
Bijou looked straight into her eyes as she asked:
"And it is--it is because of me, isn't it? it is because of M.
Spiegel's manner towards me that you broke it all off?" Jeanne nodded,
and Bijou went on: "And so you really thought that your _fiance_ was
making love to me?"
"Oh, as to making love to you, no, perhaps not--but he certainly cares
for you."
"And what then?"
"What do you mean by _what then_?"
"Well, what would be the end of that for him?"
"Well, it would cause him to suffer; and who knows, he might have
hoped--?"
"Hoped what? to marry me?"
"No--yes! I don't know; he might have hoped in a vague sort of way--I
don't know what."
"And do you think that I can endure the idea of causing your
unhappiness, no matter how involuntarily on my part?"
"It is not in your power to alter what exists."
Bijou appeared to be turning something over in her mind.
"Supposing I were to marry," she said at last abruptly. And then
hiding her face in her hands she said in a broken voice: "M. de Clagny
wants to marry me."
"M. de Clagny!" exclaimed Jeanne, stupefied, "why, he's sixty!"
"I said no; I will say yes, though."
"You are mad!"
"Not the least bit in the world! I am practical. The remedy is perhaps
a trifle hard, but what is to be done? I love you so, Jeanne, that the
idea of seeing you unhappy makes me wretched!"
"I assure you, though, that even if you marry M. de Clagny, I should
not marry M. Spiegel. He said things to me just now which were very
painful, and no matter how much I tried, I could not forget them."
"Painful things, about what?"
"About my jealousy--he said that it was ridiculous--and yet I had not
complained about anything. I kept it from him as much as possible, my
jealousy; but at the ball, I did not feel well, and I asked papa to
take me home, and he was displeased about that, he thought I was
sulking."
"Oh, all that will soon be forgotten!"
"No! and so you see, Bijou, it would be for nothing at all that you
would commit the very worst of all follies--marrying an old man."
"An old man! it's queer, he does not seem to me at all like an old
man--M. de Clagny! I should certainly prefer marrying a younger man
and one whom I should like in every respect, but now--"
Jeanne put her arm round Bijou and, resting her hand on her friend's
shoulder, kissed her as she said:
"You must just wait for him in peace, the one 'whom you would like in
every respect!' You have plenty of time!"
"No, I have quite decided! Whatever you do now will be useless, for,
in spite of what you say, when once the cause of your little
misunderstanding has vanished, the misunderstanding will vanish in
the same way. There now, kiss me again, and tell me that you love me."
"Well!" said Jean de Blaye, who now appeared with M. Spiegel, "is
everyone ready; are we going to rehearse?"
For the last few days he had been in a nervous, excitable state,
feeling the need of anything that would take him out of himself, and
doing his utmost all the time to keep himself from thinking. "Yes,"
answered Denyse very calmly, wiping her eyes quickly, "we are ready;
we were only waiting for you." And then, in a very gracious, natural
way, she held out her hand to M. Spiegel, who took it, saying at the
same time:
"You are not too tired, mademoiselle, after such a late night?" And
then, glancing involuntarily at Mademoiselle Dubuisson's rather
sallow-looking face, he added: "Why, you are looking fresher even than
yesterday."
Jeanne came nearer to Bijou, and, as they moved away together, she
said, pointing to the professor, and with a look of intense grief in
her gentle eyes:
"You see your remedy would not do; he is incurable."
* * * * *
The little play was performed before a large audience of guests, who
were highly amused. Bijou was so pretty in her costume as Hebe, she
looked so pure and maidenly and so sweet, that, when the piece was
finished, and she wanted to go and put on her ball-dress, everyone
begged her to remain just as she was. As she was going away into a
side-room to escape the compliments of the various guests, M. de
Rueille stopped her, and said, in a sarcastic tone:
"And so that is the costume that was to be quite the thing, and which,
in order to please me, you were going to get Jean to alter?"
Jean came up just at this moment, with Henry de Bracieux and Pierrot.
"Accept my compliments," said M. de Rueille drily, turning towards
him; "you certainly know how to design costumes for pretty girls; but,
if I were you, I would have been rather more careful."
"Why, what's up with you?" asked Jean, without even looking at Bijou;
"the costume's right enough!"
"Besides," remarked Bijou tranquilly, "there are only three persons who
have any right to trouble themselves about my costumes--grandmamma, I
myself, or my husband."
"Yes, if you had one!"
"Certainly; well, I shall be having one!"
Jean de Blaye shrugged his shoulders incredulously, and Bijou
continued:
"I assure you it is quite true! I am going to be married."
"To whom?" asked M. de Rueille uneasily.
"Oh, yes, what a good joke!" remarked Pierrot.
"Whom are you going to marry?" asked Henry de Bracieux. "Tell us!"
M. de Clagny had just entered the room, and putting her arm through
his, she said, in a mischievous way, to the others:
"I am going to tell M. de Clagny." And then, turning to him, she
added: "Let us go out-doors, though; it is stifling in here!"
"Isn't she aesthetic this evening?" murmured Pierrot, gazing at Bijou's
long Grecian cloak of pale pink. "I should think M. Giraud would think
her perfect to-night; he's always saying she isn't made for modern
costumes."
"Ah, by the bye, where is he--Giraud?" asked Jean de Blaye; "he
disappeared after dinner, and we have not seen him again!"
Pierrot explained that he must have gone off for a stroll along the
river, as he did nearly every evening. He was getting more and more
odd, and had fits of gaiety and melancholy, turn by turn. That very
morning he had left the schoolroom in order to go to Madame de
Bracieux, who had sent to ask him to translate an English letter for
her; and then he had come back some time after, saying that he had not
ventured to knock, because he could hear that the marchioness was
talking to Mademoiselle Denyse, and ever since then he had not uttered
another word.
"Where the devil's he gone?" asked Jean; and Pierrot, speaking through
his nose, began to imitate the street vendors on the boulevards.
"Where is Bulgaria? Find Bulgaria!"
* * * * *
When she was alone with M. de Clagny under the big trees, Bijou said,
in the sweetest way:
"I came back home this morning, quite wretched at having caused you
any sorrow. It seemed to me that I must have been too affectionate in
my manner towards you--too free--and that I had made you think
something quite different. Is that so?"
"Yes, that is just it--and so you have no affection at all for me?"
"You know very well that I have!"
"I mean that you like me just as though I were some old relative or
another."
"More than that!"
"Well, but you do not love me enough to--to--love me as a husband?"
"I do not know at all. I cannot understand myself just what I feel for
you. In the first place, I think you are very nice-looking, and very
charming, too; and then, when you are here, I feel as though I am
surrounded with care and affection. It seems to me that I breathe more
freely, that I am gayer and happier, and I have never, never felt like
that before--"
Very much touched by what she was saying, and very anxious, too, about
what she was going to say, the count pressed Bijou's arm against his
without answering.
"Well, then," she continued, "I thought that, as I liked you better
than I have ever yet liked anyone, and that, on the other hand, I
should never be able to console myself for having caused you so much
sorrow, the best thing would be to marry you."