Bijou Part 5

"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."

"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:

"What did you say?"

"I said that he will be very happy."

"Who will be happy?"

"The man you love!"

"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 wors.h.i.+p 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 embarra.s.sment, 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 brus.h.i.+ng against his cheek, which began to burn.

Bijou noticed his absent-mindedness.

"It seems to me," she said, laughing, "that you are not listening much to the description of my ideal."

"Oh, yes!"

"Oh, no!--by the bye, have we done all the errands?"

She took out of her pocket a long list, which she began to read:

"_Ice. Cakes. Fruit. Fish. The Dubuissons. Speak to the butcher. Pink gauze. Mere Rafut. Hat. Pierrot's books. Henry's cartridges (16)._"

"What's that?" asked M. de Rueille, who was looking at the list.

"Henry has commissioned you to get his cartridges instead of telling me to get them?"

"Yes; the time before last when he asked you, you forgot them; and last time you brought him number twelve cartridges, and his are number sixteen; therefore, he preferred--"

"Ah! I can understand that; but they do take advantage of you--and the children too have taken advantage. '_Balloon for Marcel, pencils for Robert_;' Fred is the only one who has not given you any commissions. You need not despair though, he is only three years old; he will begin next year."

"He did not give me any commissions, but I have brought him a picture book--'Puss in Boots.' He adores cats, so that will amuse him."

"How delicious you are!"

"Delicious! Is that saying enough? Could you not find something rather more eulogistic? Let us see--try now!"

She was still glancing down the list; and Paul de Rueille pointed with the handle of his whip to a line written in pencil:

"What's that?--'_Tell grandmamma about La Noriniere!_'"

"Why, I met the Juzencourts, and they said I was to be sure to tell grandmamma that 'The Noriniere' is to be inhabited."

"Ah, Clagny has sold it?"

"No; he is coming back to it. It appears that he is coming every summer."

"Ah, so much the better. Grandmamma will be very glad of that."

"Yes, she likes him very much. I do not know him, this M. de Clagny, but I have often heard about him."

"Don't you remember seeing him a long time ago?"

"Why, no!"

"Well, he was your G.o.dfather, anyhow!"

"You are dreaming! Uncle Alexis is my G.o.dfather."

"Your Uncle Jonzac is the G.o.dfather of Denyse, but it was M. de Clagny who was the G.o.dfather of Bijou. Yes, he said once, speaking of you when you were very little, _the Bijou_--and the name suited you so well that you have had it ever since."

"Don't you think it is rather ridiculous to call me Bijou now that I am old?"

"You look as though you were fourteen, and you always will look like that, I promise you."