Bijou Part 51

"It does not seem to me as though they do much billing and cooing!"

said M. de Jonzac. "I was watching them yesterday at the paper-chase, and I'm very much mistaken if that engagement is not a very half-and-half sort of affair."

"But why should you think that, Uncle Alexis?" asked Bijou, looking troubled.

"Because the girl looks sad, and the professor indifferent. Haven't you noticed that?"

"No; but then I don't notice things much," she answered.

On the way from Bracieux to Pont-sur-Loire, Bijou and Jean were silent.

In the town just near the station, they met Madame de Nezel, who had come in from The Pines by the half-past two train. On seeing her, Bijou made a little movement, and was just about to speak to her cousin, but, on second thoughts, she said nothing, and only looked up at him, with a sweet expression in her bright eyes. Jean, feeling awkward and confused, had pretended not to see Madame de Nezel, and she, instead of going on into the centre of the town, had turned down a narrow street, by some waste ground and gardens. As she got out of the carriage with Josephine at the Dubuissons' door, Bijou asked:

"Where shall I find you? And at what time?"

"At the hotel; I will tell them to put the horse in at six o'clock if that will suit you?"

"At six o'clock!" she exclaimed, in astonishment. "Oh, well! you _must_ have plenty of things to do! Three hours and a half of shopping in Pont-sur-Loire!"

Impatient and wis.h.i.+ng above all things to escape Bijou's innocent questioning, Jean offered to start earlier, but she refused.

"Oh, no! why should you? I shall be delighted to stay as long as you wish with Jeanne!"

Mademoiselle Dubuisson was at home. Denyse thought she looked sad, and her eyes had dark circles round them.

"What is the matter now?" she asked. "There's something wrong."

"Yes, things are not quite right."

"Is--your _fiance_?"

"Oh, it's just the same."

"Which means----"

"That I think he has got--well--a little cool. But there is something else that has upset me to-day."

"What is it?"

"Oh, well! it is an event that really does not concern me at all; but it has made me feel wretched all the same." She avoided looking at Bijou as she continued: "You know that--Lisette Renaud?"

"Yes. Well?"

"Well, she is dead--this morning."

"Dead!--What of?"

"People think she killed herself," said Jeanne, almost in a whisper.

"But how?"

"By taking morphia. You know they could not go into details before me, but I understood, from what they were saying, that it was after an explanation she had had with M. de Bernes."

"When?"

"Yesterday after the theatre, or else this morning. Papa and M.

Spiegel were talking of it at luncheon; but in a vague sort of way, so that I should not understand."

"How fearfully sad!--I can quite understand that it should have upset you."

"Yes; it is only natural, and all the more so as, just now, troubles from love affairs touch me very nearly--and for a good reason!" she added, with a sad little smile.

"That poor little actress!" said Bijou, in a tone of regret. "As a rule, I don't care much for women who are on the stage, but this one seemed to be nice, and then, she really did sing well--it is a pity!--M. de Bernes must be wretched!"

"Do you think people really are so wretched when they cause others to suffer?" asked Jeanne, still not looking at Bijou. "I don't think they are! There are the thoughtless people, who make others suffer without knowing it, and then there are the others, who cause people to suffer because it amuses them; and neither the former nor the latter know what it is to feel remorse--"

As Jeanne stood still, lost in thought, a far-away look in her eyes, Bijou stroked her friend's face gently.

"There, don't think any more about these sad things, Jeanne, dear,"

she said. "Your grief won't change anything when the mischief is already done, and you are making yourself wretched all in vain. Come, now, let us talk about our play, and about dress, or no matter what--oh! by the bye, about dress, does yours fit well at last?"

"It fits; but it does not suit me!"

"Oh, that's impossible!"

"No, it's very natural, on the contrary! I have not your complexion, remember! I am paler than you are, and that pink makes me paler still; and then I am thin, and the little gathered bodice, which shows up your pretty figure to perfection, makes me look no figure at all--it does not matter, though--it's of no importance whatever!"

"What do you mean by saying it is of no importance?"

"Why, yes, don't you see, Bijou dear, that whether one is well or badly dressed, if one is just common-place as I am, one would always pa.s.s unnoticed by the side of anyone as beautiful as you are."

Bijou turned her eyes up towards the ceiling, and said, in a half-serious, half-joking way:

"My poor dear child, you are wandering--you don't know at all what you are talking about!" And then suddenly changing her tone she asked: "What time do you start to the races to-morrow?"

"I don't know. Papa will have arranged that with M. Spiegel. Ah, tell me! shall you go early to the Tourvilles' dance? I don't want to get there before you."

Denyse was looking at her watch.

"Oh! I must go!" she exclaimed. "They want some gardenias at home for b.u.t.ton-holes; I don't know where I shall be able to get any; someone told me of a florist up by the station somewhere."

"By the station? but there are only market-gardeners there, no florists."

"Yes, it seems that in that little lane--you know--to the right of the quay--"

"Lilac Lane, I know where you mean; but there are only vegetable gardens there, and some waste ground, and then a few small houses, that are generally rented by officers because they are near to the barracks."

"Well, anyhow," said Bijou, getting up, "I'll go and look round there!"