"But who told you that M. Spiegel is a Protestant?"

"No one. I discovered that all alone; it did not take me long either--"

"But how can you know--"

"I do not know anything, and yet you see I do know all the same; it's a very good thing to be able to marry a Protestant; they are less frivolous, more serious, and more constant."

"Yes, perhaps so; but his mother, as I told you looks very severe, very; and she is going to live with us."

"Oh, well, so much the better. It is a safe-guard, don't you know, to have a mother with you who is somewhat austere. In the first place, she will inspire everyone with respect for you."

"I don't think I need anyone to inspire people with respect for me, and, anyhow, it seems to me that if I did, why, my husband would be--"

"Not at all! oh, no! parents are quite different, and I was brought up to worship my parents, and to believe that their presence brings not only respect but happiness into the home."

"Oh, yes, I think that, too, as regards papa; but Madame Spiegel is a stranger to me, as it were, and I do feel that I owe her a little grudge for coming to intrude on the privacy of our home-life, which would have seemed so much happier alone."

"You must say to yourself that she is the mother of your husband, that he loves her, and that you ought to love her for his sake."

"You are quite right. How I wish I were like you, Bijou dear! you are so much better than I am."

"I am an angel, am I not? that's settled."

"You are joking; but it is quite, quite true."

"Tell me, won't it make you miserable to be away from your _fiance_ all this week, which you are going to spend with me?"

"No; besides he will come with papa to see me if your grandmamma will allow him to, and then he is going to Paris for a few days."

"And here I am walking you about, like the thoughtless creature that I am, forgetting that the unhappy young man is sure to be wretched without you. Let us go in; shall we?"

"Yes, I am quite willing."

A bright gleam suddenly came into Bijou's eyes, shaded as they were by their long lashes, and then, putting on an indifferent air, she said to her friend:

"Tell me what little incident could possibly have given you the extraordinary idea that Jean de Blaye cares for me?"

"The way he looked at you all through luncheon, and then, too, his annoyance when we were all out on the steps this morning watching for you, and he saw you coming with young Jonzac and his tutor."

"You have too much imagination."

"No; I am sure that he is in love with you--and very much so!--and what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You--you don't care for him?"

"No, not in the way you mean, at least. He is my cousin; I like him just as one does like a nice cousin, whom one knows too well to care for in any other way."

"It's a pity."

"Why?"

"Because it seems to me that you would be happy with him."

Bijou shook her head.

"I don't think so; I must have a husband more steady than Jean."

"More steady? but he must be thirty-four or thirty-five--M. de Blaye."

"What does that matter? he is not steady, you know--not by any means."

"Ah! I did not know."

"Then, too, I should want my husband to only care for me."

"Well, pretty and fascinating as you are, you can make your mind easy about that."

Bijou stopped suddenly in the middle of the garden-walk.

"Is not that a carriage coming up the drive?" she asked, pointing to the avenue.

"Yes, certainly it is."

"What sort of a carriage? I cannot see anything, I am so short-sighted."

"A phaeton with two horses, and a gentleman I don't know is driving."

"Ah, yes, that's it!" And then, as Jeanne looked at her inquiringly, she added: "It is M. de Clagny--a friend of grandmamma's--the owner of The Noriniere."

"Ah! the man who is so rich!"

"So rich? Do you think he is so rich? I have not heard a word about that!"

"Oh, yes; he is immensely wealthy--and all his fortune is in land."

Bijou was not listening to this. She had just gathered a daisy, which was growing amongst the gra.s.s, bending its little timid head over the garden pathway, and she was now pulling it to pieces in an absent-minded way.

"Well?" asked Jeanne, smiling; "how does he love you?"

Bijou lifted her pretty head in surprise.

"Whom do you mean?"

"The one about whom you were questioning that daisy?"

"I don't know! I was not questioning it about anyone in particular."