The Dubuissons and M. Spiegel had promised to come at four o'clock.

One of the scenes which did not go very well had to be rehea.r.s.ed.

Bijou, who was busy gathering flowers, went towards the cab when they arrived, and was surprised to see only Jeanne and her father.

"What have you done with M. Spiegel?" she asked.

It was M. Dubuisson who answered, in a confused sort of way:

"He is coming--with your cousin M. de Rueille, who was at Pont-sur-Loire and who offered to bring him."

"Don't disturb your grandmamma," said Jeanne, taking Bijou's arm.

"Papa won't come in yet, he has his lecture to prepare, and he will go and do it, walking about in the park." And then, as soon as M.

Dubuisson had moved off, she began again: "If M. Spiegel and I had not had parts in the play, and so had not been afraid of spoiling it for you by not appearing, we should not have come."

"You would not have come?" exclaimed Bijou, in astonishment; "and why not, pray?"

"Because we are now in the most false and ridiculous position."

"You?"

"Yes, we are--our engagement is broken off."

"Broken off!" repeated Bijou, in consternation; "broken off! but what for?"

"Because I was quite certain that he cared for me very little or not at all," answered Jeanne, speaking very calmly, but not looking at Bijou, "and so I told him this morning that I did not feel equal to accepting the life of misery which I foresaw, and that I gave him back his liberty."

"Good heavens, is it possible--and you do not regret anything?"

"Nothing! I am very wretched, but my mind is more easy."

Bijou looked straight into her eyes as she asked:

"And it is--it is because of me, isn't it? it is because of M.

Spiegel's manner towards me that you broke it all off?" Jeanne nodded, and Bijou went on: "And so you really thought that your _fiance_ was making love to me?"

"Oh, as to making love to you, no, perhaps not--but he certainly cares for you."

"And what then?"

"What do you mean by _what then_?"

"Well, what would be the end of that for him?"

"Well, it would cause him to suffer; and who knows, he might have hoped--?"

"Hoped what? to marry me?"

"No--yes! I don't know; he might have hoped in a vague sort of way--I don't know what."

"And do you think that I can endure the idea of causing your unhappiness, no matter how involuntarily on my part?"

"It is not in your power to alter what exists."

Bijou appeared to be turning something over in her mind.

"Supposing I were to marry," she said at last abruptly. And then hiding her face in her hands she said in a broken voice: "M. de Clagny wants to marry me."

"M. de Clagny!" exclaimed Jeanne, stupefied, "why, he's sixty!"

"I said no; I will say yes, though."

"You are mad!"

"Not the least bit in the world! I am practical. The remedy is perhaps a trifle hard, but what is to be done? I love you so, Jeanne, that the idea of seeing you unhappy makes me wretched!"

"I a.s.sure you, though, that even if you marry M. de Clagny, I should not marry M. Spiegel. He said things to me just now which were very painful, and no matter how much I tried, I could not forget them."

"Painful things, about what?"

"About my jealousy--he said that it was ridiculous--and yet I had not complained about anything. I kept it from him as much as possible, my jealousy; but at the ball, I did not feel well, and I asked papa to take me home, and he was displeased about that, he thought I was sulking."

"Oh, all that will soon be forgotten!"

"No! and so you see, Bijou, it would be for nothing at all that you would commit the very worst of all follies--marrying an old man."

"An old man! it's queer, he does not seem to me at all like an old man--M. de Clagny! I should certainly prefer marrying a younger man and one whom I should like in every respect, but now--"

Jeanne put her arm round Bijou and, resting her hand on her friend's shoulder, kissed her as she said:

"You must just wait for him in peace, the one 'whom you would like in every respect!' You have plenty of time!"

"No, I have quite decided! Whatever you do now will be useless, for, in spite of what you say, when once the cause of your little misunderstanding has vanished, the misunderstanding will vanish in the same way. There now, kiss me again, and tell me that you love me."

"Well!" said Jean de Blaye, who now appeared with M. Spiegel, "is everyone ready; are we going to rehea.r.s.e?"

For the last few days he had been in a nervous, excitable state, feeling the need of anything that would take him out of himself, and doing his utmost all the time to keep himself from thinking. "Yes,"

answered Denyse very calmly, wiping her eyes quickly, "we are ready; we were only waiting for you." And then, in a very gracious, natural way, she held out her hand to M. Spiegel, who took it, saying at the same time:

"You are not too tired, mademoiselle, after such a late night?" And then, glancing involuntarily at Mademoiselle Dubuisson's rather sallow-looking face, he added: "Why, you are looking fresher even than yesterday."

Jeanne came nearer to Bijou, and, as they moved away together, she said, pointing to the professor, and with a look of intense grief in her gentle eyes:

"You see your remedy would not do; he is incurable."

The little play was performed before a large audience of guests, who were highly amused. Bijou was so pretty in her costume as Hebe, she looked so pure and maidenly and so sweet, that, when the piece was finished, and she wanted to go and put on her ball-dress, everyone begged her to remain just as she was. As she was going away into a side-room to escape the compliments of the various guests, M. de Rueille stopped her, and said, in a sarcastic tone:

"And so that is the costume that was to be quite the thing, and which, in order to please me, you were going to get Jean to alter?"