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 a.s.sure 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 a.s.sured 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 s.p.a.cious dining-room.

XV.

THE marchioness decided not to speak to Bijou about M. de Clagny that evening, as she did not want to disturb the young girl's rest.

The following morning, however, she sent for her, and Bijou arrived, gay and lively as usual. She gave a little pout of disappointment when her grandmother informed her that she wished to speak to her about something very serious.

"It concerns one of my greatest friends," began Madame de Bracieux, "and he is also a friend of yours."

"M. de Clagny?" interrupted Bijou.

"Yes, M. de Clagny. You must have seen that he is very fond of you, haven't you?"

"I am very fond of him, too, very fond of him."

"Exactly, but you care for him as though he were your father, or a delightful old uncle, whilst he does not care for you either as though you were his daughter, or niece; in short, you will be very much astonished--"

"Astonished at what?" asked Bijou timidly.

"At--well, he wants to marry you, that's the long and short of it."

"He, too?" murmured the young girl, looking bewildered.

"What do you mean by 'he, too'?" exclaimed the marchioness, bewildered in her turn; "who else wants to marry you that you say 'he, too '?"

Denyse blushed crimson.

"I ought to have told you all that before, grandmamma," she said, sitting down on a little stool at Madame de Bracieux's feet; "but we have been so dissipated just lately, what with the paper-chase, the theatre, the races, and the dances, that I don't seem to have had a minute, and then, too, it was not very interesting either."

"Ah! that's your opinion, is it?"

"Well, considering that I don't want to marry either of them."

"Well, but who is it, child, who is it?" asked the marchioness.

"Why, just Henry and Jean. Jean spoke to me first for Henry, who, it seems, had got him to ask me whether I would allow him to ask your permission to marry me. I answered that he ought to have asked _you_ first and not me--"

"You are a real little Bijou, my darling."

"But that it really did not matter, as I did not want to marry him."

"He is not rich enough for you, my dear."

"Oh, I don't know anything about that. And then, too, all that is quite the same to me, but I should not like Henry for a husband. I know him too well."

"Ah! and what about Jean?"

"Jean, too, I should not like as a husband. That is just what I told him, when, after I had refused Henry, he began again on his own account."