"Oh, yes, you were, and it looks as though what I said just now had vexed you, too."

"What did you just say?"

"That I am very clear-sighted. And you are vexed, because you are afraid that I shall see that something is the matter."

"Something the matter?" he asked uneasily. "What is it?"

"What is it? Ah! I don't know! But most certainly something is the matter with you--you are not at all like yourself ever since--why, ever since we have been at Bracieux."

"Really?" he said, putting on a joking tone. "I am different, am I--and the most extraordinary thing is, that I did not know myself about this difference."

Bijou shrugged her pretty shoulders.

"Don't try to take me in like that, Jean, my dear; I know you too well, you see. You are different, I tell you! You have gradually got very abrupt, restless, and absent-minded. Listen, now,--would you like me to tell you what it is?"

Seated at some distance away from them, Madame de Nezel was watching them, with an expression of melancholy resignation.

Bijou glanced across at her, and the young girl's violet eyes gleamed between her long, thick lashes, as she said:

"You are in love with someone who does not return your love."

Jean de Blaye coloured up furiously.

"You don't know what you are talking about," he answered.

"Well, then, why have you gone so red? Oh, how proud you are. You are vexed because I have found this out." And then, after a short silence, she began again: "Have you told her?"

"Have I told what? and whom? My dear Bijou, how foolish you are."

"Have you told Mad--" She stopped abruptly, and then, with her face turned towards Madame de Nezel, she continued: "The person with whom you are in love, have you told her that you love her?"

"No!" he murmured, in a stifled sort of voice.

"You are afraid to? but why? I constantly hear grandmamma, Bertrade, Paul, and Uncle Alexis, saying over and over again that you are the kind of man women like; _she_ would be sure to like you, too, and she would marry you, I am certain." She leaned towards him, nearly touching his ear as she whispered to him, and not caring what effect her familiarity might have. "Listen, now, if you like I will tell her for you, and I am quite sure what her answer will be."

Jean rose abruptly, and seizing Bijou's hand, he asked excitedly:

"What are you saying?"

"I am just saying that she _will_ love you, if she does not already."

"But of whom are you speaking--of whom?" he stammered out, aghast.

She answered him in a hesitating way, with a frank look on her pretty face, but she spoke in such a low voice that he could scarcely catch her first words.

"I am speaking of----"

"Bijou!" called out Pierrot, separating them unceremoniously, "grandmamma says you are forgetting about the tea." And then, looking at their faces, he went on: "Well, I never! you are both as red as cherries; there's no mistake about it, it's baking hot in here."

Denyse hurried away, and Pierrot continued:

"We thought over there that you were quarrelling."

"Ah! you thought that, did you?" answered Jean, by way of saying something.

"Yes, especially grandmamma; that's why she sent me to tell Bijou about the tea. I say, Bijou isn't worried about anything, is she?"

"Well, now, what kind of worry do you fancy she could have, my dear fellow?" And then, with a smile, he added: "Who do you imagine would undertake to cause her any worry? It seems to me that anyone who did venture to would have a bad time of it in this house."

"She's so sweet, and so nice always," answered the boy, with great warmth. "As for me, why, I just adore her; and Paul does, too, and so does Henry, and M. Giraud, and Bertrade's kids, and the abbe, and everyone, in fact; even little La Balue is gone on her, and he's never gone on anyone. Yes, he was telling her I don't know what up in a corner of the room after dinner, and then, when she was singing--did you ever see such eyes as he was making at her?--oh, no! if you had only just seen him----"

"Do shut up!" exclaimed Jean irritably, "you wear everyone out, if you only knew it, my dear Pierrot."

When Bijou came back to the drawing-room, Henry de Bracieux waylaid her.

"I say," he began, in a cross-grained tone, "what was La Balue telling you just now that appeared to be so interesting?"

"Where?"

"Here, after dinner."

"Here?" repeated Bijou, apparently trying to recall something to her memory, "after dinner? Ah, I remember; why, he was talking about you!'

"About me?"

"Yes, about you! He thinks you are very handsome, but he also thinks that you do not know how to make the most of your good looks."

"Have you finished making game of me?"

"I a.s.sure you that I am not making game of you--not the least bit in the world. He even advised me to tell you that instead of your frightful stand-up collars--these are his words, you know, and not mine--you ought to wear--what did he call them now?--oh, Van Dyck collars, which would not cover your neck up, for it appears that your throat is superb, and your head so well set on your shoulders; and then you have lovely teeth! I only wish you could hear him sing the praises of your personal appearance."

"Of my personal appearance! Mine?"

"Why, yes; you thought, perhaps, that he was talking to me of mine?

Not at all! He informed me, too, that he was going to tell you all that in poetry; not the Van Dyck collars, but the rest."

"That young man is an idiot!"

"Oh, dear me, he is very harmless."

"You are so good-hearted always, you never dig into anyone. Ah, attention! they are packing up, the La Balue crew!" And Henry, in a low voice, and apparently delighted, finished up with a "Hip! hip!

hurrah!"

M. de la Balue, who was just coming out of the hall with a heap of cloaks, looked at him in astonishment, while at the doorway a little family quarrel took place. The good man wanted to make his wife and daughter wrap their heads up in some very ordinary-looking knitted shawls, so that they should not get a chill. He was obliged, however, to give in at last.

Bijou, on saying good-bye to Madame de Nezel, held out her little hand, and looked straight into her eyes with such an expression of innocent curiosity that the young widow turned away, quite confused by the persistency of the young girl's gaze. It seemed to her as though this child had discovered the secret of her life, and the bare idea of this caused her intense misery.

Bijou's charm, however, was so great, and her power of attraction so strong, that Madame de Nezel, at the bottom of her heart, felt nothing but affection for the lovely little creature who had so unconsciously stolen her happiness from her.