Bijou Part 33

"But everyone is kind to you, everyone adores you."

"Everyone is much too good and too indulgent, as far as I am concerned; I know that very well; but M. de Clagny is better still than the others. I have only known him three days, and now I could not do without him. Whenever I see him, I feel gay and happy at once; and I wish he were always here. I'll tell you what--I should like to have a father or an uncle like him. Doesn't he make the same kind of impression on you?"

"Oh, as for me, you know, it would be impossible to imagine myself with any other father than papa. Just as he is I adore him; perhaps to other people he may seem nothing out of the common but you see he is my father; all the same I like M. de Clagny, and he is very nice--he must have been charming."

"I think he still is charming."

The two girls had reached the hall by this time, and Jeanne went to the door.

"How very warm it is," she said, and then, shading her eyes with her hand, she looked out into the avenue. "Why, there's a mail-coach!" she exclaimed. "Whoever would be coming with a mail-coach?"

"M. de Clagny, of course," cried Bijou, rus.h.i.+ng out on to the steps in her delight; "he told grandmamma that if he possibly could he should come and ask her to give him some luncheon."

"And he has managed to," remarked M. de Rueille drily, as he, too, approached the hall door; "we've seen a great deal of him these last three days; certainly, he is very devoted to us," he added sarcastically.

The sight of the horses, which were just being pulled up in front of the steps, somewhat appeased him, however.

"By Jove! what horses!" he exclaimed, in admiration, "and he knows how to drive, too; there's no mistake about that, he's a born aristocrat."

After luncheon, Pierrot declared that his foot hurt him just at the end of each toe, and he did not know what it could be.

"I know, though," remarked Jean de Blaye; "his boots are too short."

"Too short!" exclaimed M. de Jonzac, "oh, no, that's impossible"--and then, after a moment's reflection, he added in terror: "unless his feet have got bigger still--"

"Which they probably have," said Jean, laughing; "anyhow, his toes are turned up at the ends and curl back over each other, I am sure; you have only to look at his feet, now, to tell. Look at the lumps in his boots; they look like bags of nuts."

"I must get him some more boots to-day," said M. de Jonzac.

"The best thing, uncle, would be to send him to Pont-sur-Loire to be measured; there's sure to be a decent bootmaker there."

"M. Courteil is going just now to take a letter to the bishop and get an answer to it," remarked Madame de Bracieux; "he might take Pierrot with him."

"Well, then," said Bijou, "they might take our omnibus, so that Jeanne and I could go too; we have some errands to do."

"What are they?" asked the marchioness.

"Well, first, some crepe--we want some crepe for Jeanne; and then some pencils and paints that I am short of; in fact, there are a lot of things."

"Would you like me to take you all?" proposed M. de Clagny; "I have some business with a lawyer at Pont-sur-Loire at three o'clock. You could do all your errands, and then I would bring you back; it's on my way to The Noriniere."

"Oh, what fun!" exclaimed Bijou, delighted. "I have never been on a mail-coach; you don't mind, grandmamma?"

Madame de Bracieux seemed rather undecided.

"Well, I don't know, Bijou dear; you see at Pont-sur-Loire you will be noticed very much perched up there, and for two young girls I don't know whether it is quite the thing--"

"Oh, grandmamma," protested Bijou, "not the thing! and with M. de Clagny there!"

"Yes, with me," put in the count, with emphasis, his face suddenly clouding over, "there is no danger; I am safe enough."

"Yes, certainly," replied Madame de Bracieux with evident sincerity; "but at Pont-sur-Loire everyone is so fond of gossip and scandal."

"Oh, grandmamma," Bijou said, in a beseeching tone, "don't deprive us of a treat, which you don't see any harm in whatever yourself, just because of the Pont-sur-Loire people, about whom you do not care at all."

"Yes, you are right. Go, then, children, as you want to, for, as you say, there is no harm whatever in amusing yourselves in that way."

"Is there any room for me?" asked M. de Rueille.

"For you, and some more of you," answered M. de Clagny; "we are only six at present."

The marchioness turned towards Bertrade.

"What do you say about going with them to look after the girls?"

Madame de Rueille glanced at her husband, who appeared to be studying the floor attentively at that moment.

"Oh, Paul will look after them very well!"

"I must ask if you would mind not starting before three o'clock?" said Bijou, advancing towards the window, "because there is M. Sylvestre coming to give me my accompaniment lesson; he is just coming up the avenue."

"The poor fellow!" exclaimed the marchioness, glancing out of the window, "he is actually walking in spite of this terrible heat!"

"He always walks, grandmamma."

"Five miles; that is not so tremendous," remarked Henry de Bracieux.

"No, not for you--driving!" said Bijou.

"Well, but when we are out shooting, we do a lot more than that!"

"But you are enjoying yourself when you are out shooting; that's quite different. I know very well that if I could, I should send M.

Sylvestre back always in the carriage."

"If you like, we can drive him back to-day," said M. de Clagny.

"I should just think I should like to! You are very good to offer me that, because, you know, he is not very, very handsome--my professor--and he will not be any ornament on your coach!"

"Do you think I care anything about that? I am not sn.o.bbish, Bijou; not the least bit sn.o.bbish."

"But he isn't bad-looking, this fellow," said Jean de Blaye. "He has very fine eyes; they are wonderfully limpid and soft."

"I never noticed that," answered Bijou, laughing; "but even if they are, they could not be seen very well on the top of a coach. And he is very queerly dressed; he wears clothes that are too small, and which cling to him; and then long hair that is very lank; he looks rather like a drowned rat."

A domestic appeared at this instant to announce that M. Sylvestre had arrived.