Part 27 (2/2)

”The infinite power of the voice! Yes, before hearing you I did not know what I know at present. You will sing again, will you not, mademoiselle? Fancy, I have been here three weeks, and I had never had the happiness of--”

”I will give you _that happiness_ as much as ever you like.”

She was joking again now, for the little dreamy creature of a minute before was Bijou once more.

As they approached the chateau, she put her hand up to shade her eyes.

”Why, what's going on?” she said; ”the hall-door steps look black with people.”

”Hang it!” exclaimed Pierrot crossly. ”They are all out there watching for you! There's Paul, and there's Henry, and the abbe, and Uncle Alexis, and Bertrade. Look, though! Who's that? You are right--there are some other folks too. Ah! it's old Dubuisson, and Jeanne, and then there's a fellow I don't know; a fellow all in black. Oh, well! he must be a s.h.i.+very sort to come to the country dressed in black, in such heat as this.”

”Perhaps it's M. Spiegel, Jeanne's _fiance_. They were to bring him.”

”Yes, that must be it! I say, he doesn't look a very lively sort, your Jeanne's _fiance_. She isn't though either--”

Bijou was looking round to see what had become of Giraud, who had suddenly become so silent. He was following the young girl, wors.h.i.+pping her as he walked along as though she were some idol.

Just at this moment, whilst Pierrot was very much taken up with looking in the direction of the chateau, the little bunch of clematis dropped from Bijou's dress, and fell at the tutor's feet. He picked it up quickly, and slipped it into his pocket-book, after kissing it, with a kind of pa.s.sionate devotion, whilst behind him, the old groom, silent and correct as usual, laughed to himself.

IX.

M. DUBUISSON, whom the students called ”Old Dubuisson,” was the princ.i.p.al of the college.

He had brought his daughter to Bracieux, where she was to spend a week with Bijou, and Jeanne's _fiance_, a young professor, newly appointed at the Pont-sur-Loire College, had accompanied them.

”How warm you must be, my dear Bijou,” called out the marchioness, appearing at one of the windows.

”Oh, no, grandmamma,” answered Denyse, taking M. de Rueille's hand in order to descend from her horse. ”M. Giraud and Pierrot must be warm--I am all right.”

She kissed Jeanne heartily, spoke to M. Dubuisson, and then looked in a hesitating way towards the young professor, who was contemplating her in surprise.

”Bijou, this is Monsieur Spiegel,” said Mademoiselle Dubuisson.

With a graceful, pretty movement, which was very taking, Bijou held out her little hand to the young man.

”We are friends at once,” she said; and then, as she moved away with Jeanne, she whispered: ”He is charming, you know, quite charming!”

M. Spiegel perhaps overheard this kindly criticism, or else it was just by accident that he happened to turn very red at that moment.

”Go and change your dress quickly, Bijou!” commanded the marchioness.

”But, grandmamma, I am not warm, really and truly.”

”Come here! Let me see!”

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