"What sort of a carriage? I cannot see anything, I am so short-sighted."
"A phaeton with two horses, and a gentleman I don't know is driving."
"Ah, yes, that's it!" And then, as Jeanne looked at her inquiringly, she added: "It is M. de Clagny--a friend of grandmamma's--the owner of The Norinière."
"So rich? Do you think he is so rich? I have not heard a word about that!"
"Oh, yes; he is immensely wealthy--and all his fortune is in land."
Bijou was not listening to this. She had just gathered a daisy, which was growing amongst the grass, bending its little timid head over the garden pathway, and she was now pulling it to pieces in an absent-minded way.
"Well?" asked Jeanne, smiling; "how does he love you?"
Bijou lifted her pretty head in surprise.
"The one about whom you were questioning that daisy?"
"I don't know! I was not questioning it about anyone in particular."
"Oh, well, it was answering about everybody." And Jeanne added, as she mounted the little flight of stone steps just behind her friend: "It's quite true; everybody loves you; and you deserve to be loved--there!"
When the two girls entered the room where everyone was assembled, their arrival seemed to have the effect of bringing some animation into the faces of all the people.
"At last, and not before it was time!" murmured Henry de Bracieux, in a way which caused his grandmother to glance at him, whilst M. de Clagny stepped quickly forward to meet Bijou.
"That's right," she said pleasantly; "how good of you to come again so soon to see us!"
"Too good! You'll have too much of me before long!"
"Never!" she answered, smiling merrily; and then taking Jeanne's hand, she introduced her. "Jeanne Dubuisson--my best friend--whom I shall lose now, because she is going to be married!"
"But why do you say that, Bijou?" exclaimed the young girl reproachfully. "You know very well that, married or not married, I shall always be your friend."
"Yes--everyone says that; but it isn't the same thing! When one is married one does not belong to one's parents or friends any more, one belongs to one's husband--and to him alone."
"How delightful such delusions are!" murmured M. de Clagny.
"No; I quite understand that you were laughing at me. Yes, I understand perfectly well; it's no good shaking your head, I know all the same that you were making fun of me, because I said that when one is married one belongs only to one's husband! Well, that may be very ridiculous, but it is my idea, and I believe it is M. Spiegel's, too?"
