"Oh, well, I am not like her then, for I scarcely ever give it a thought." And then she added, turning grave all at once: "Besides, my marriage is very problematical."
"Why, yes,--in the first place, I should want the man who marries me to love me."
"Oh, well, you can be easy on that score; you will have no difficulty about that."
Her fresh young voice took an almost solemn tone as she continued:
"And then I should want to love him, too."
"Oh, so you will. One always does love one's husband--to begin with," said Rueille carelessly; and then he stopped short, thinking that the words "to begin with" were unnecessary.
Bijou had not understood, however, nor even heard, for she asked:
"I hope so. I shall do all I can for that!"
M. de Rueille seemed to be annoyed and irritated. He said, in a disagreeable way, as though he wanted to discourage Denyse in her dreams of the future:
"Yes, but supposing you do not happen to meet with him?"
"Well, then, I shall die an old maid, that's all! But I do not see why I should not meet with him. I do not ask for anything impossible, after all!"
In a mocking tone, and a trifle aggressive, he, asked:
"Would it be very indiscreet to ask you what you expect?"
"Oh, not indiscreet in the slightest degree, for I can only answer just as I have already answered, I should simply want _to love him_! I do not care at all about money; I neither understand money nor worship it!" She turned towards her cousin, and said, in conclusion, as she looked up into his face: "Now, I'll tell you, I would agree to a marriage like Bertrade's."
"With another husband," he stammered out.
Very simply and naturally, and without the slightest embarrassment, she said, laughing:
"Oh, dear no! No, I think the husband is quite nice."
M. de Rueille did not answer. He could not help feeling some emotion, in spite of himself, at this idea that Bijou might have cared for him. It seemed to him that the evening air was delicious, and never had the setting sun, which was sinking slowly like a ball of flame into the Loire, appeared more brilliant to him. The little gig was so narrow, that, with every oscillation, his elbow touched the young girl's arm, whilst her soft fair hair, escaping from her large straw hat, kept brushing against his cheek, which began to burn.