"Oh, no--no, I have just imagined it myself; you know I am so fond of Jeanne! I know all that pa.s.ses in her mind, and I should be so wretched if I caused her any unhappiness--or even the slightest anxiety; do you understand what I mean?"

"I understand that you are just an angel of goodness, mademoiselle, and that it is no wonder they are all so fond of you!"

Bijou was looking down on the floor, her breath coming and going quickly, a faint flush had come into her cheeks, and her nostrils were quivering, as she listened silently to the young professor's words.

He put his arm round her waist, took her little hand in his, as she offered no resistance, and whirled her off into the midst of the dance. M. Spiegel waltzed divinely, and Bijou was pa.s.sionately fond of the waltz _a trois temps_. With a flush on her cheeks, her eyes half-closed, and her lips parted, showing her dazzling white teeth, she went on whirling round as long as the orchestra played. Several times she pa.s.sed quite close to Jeanne, without even seeing her poor friend, who was being jerked about by Pierrot. The youth kept treading on his partner's toes, or knocking her against the furniture; and when, now and again, Jeanne would stop to get breath, Pierrot would chatter away most eloquently about all kinds of sports, of which she was absolutely ignorant.

"You know," he said, putting out his enormous foot and his formidable knee, "I am a very second-rate dancer, but I'm very good at football.

Our team is going to play a match this winter against the Pont-sur-Loire team; you ought to see it; it will be first-cla.s.s! I keep goal; you should just see what jolly kicks--"

He broke off as Jeanne did not speak. She was looking uneasily at her _fiance_ as he pa.s.sed and re-pa.s.sed, apparently happy in guiding Bijou along through the rapid whirl of the dance.

"I am boring you," said Pierrot; "shall we go on now?"

"No," she replied, in a changed voice; "I do not feel quite myself, and it is so warm! Will you take me across to papa--he is playing cards over there. I should like to go home!"

Whilst they were on their way to M. Dubuisson, Bijou stopped M.

Spiegel just near the orchestra; and said, in a laughing voice:

"Why, you are indefatigable--one must get one's breath, though; besides, the waltz is just finishing now!"

She glanced at the four wretched musicians, who were in a deplorable state, with their shiny-looking coats, their limp shirt-fronts, and their faces bathed in perspiration.

"Why, Monsieur Sylvestre!" she suddenly exclaimed. "Good evening, Monsieur Sylvestre! Well, I never! I didn't expect to see you!"

The poor fellow looked up eagerly, and, gazing at Bijou, with his soft, blue eyes full of deep distress, he stammered out:

"I did not expect to be seen either, mademoiselle!"

XVI.

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 a.s.sure 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."