"Ah, by the bye, why didn't he come--M. Giraud? Bijou asked for an invitation for him." "Yes, but he wouldn't come: he is awfully down in the dumps, and has been for some time. He doesn't eat, and he doesn't sleep either; instead of going to bed, he goes off walking by the river all night." "And you don't know what's the matter with him?" "The matter with him! I think it is Bijou that is the matter with him." "What do you mean? Bijou the matter with him?" "Why, yes, it's the same with Jean, and Henry, and Paul. You can see very well, father, that they are all running after her, can't you? not to speak of old Clagny, who isn't worth counting now." He stopped a minute, and then finished off, in a sorrowful way: "and not to speak of me either, for I don't count yet." "Oh! you exaggerate all that," said M. de Jonzac, quite convinced that his son was in the right, but not wanting to own it. "Bijou is certainly very pretty, and it is not surprising that--" Pierrot interrupted his father eagerly. "Oh! it isn't that she is just pretty only, but she is good, and clever, and jolly, and everything. They are quite right to fall in love with her, and, if I were only twenty-five--" "If you were twenty-five, my dear young man, she would send you about your business, as she does the others." "That's very possible," replied Pierrot philosophically, but at the same time sadly; and then, pointing to Bijou, who was just standing talking to Jeanne Dubuisson in the middle of the room, he said: "Isn't she pretty, though, father? Just look at her; she is dressed absolutely like Jeanne, their dresses are just alike, stitch for stitch, as old Mere Rafut says. I'm sure that, if they mixed them up when they were not in them themselves, there'd be no telling which was which after; and yet like that on them, I mean, they don't look alike at all! Do you think I might venture to ask her for a dance, father--Jeanne Dubuisson?" "Oh, yes; she is good-hearted enough to give you one!" A minute or two later and Jeanne went off with Pierrot for the next dance. M. Spiegel crossed over to Bijou, and asked her for the waltz which was just commencing, but she shook her head, saying: "I am so tired, if you only knew!" "Only just a little turn, won't you?" he begged. "Ever since the beginning of the evening I have not been able to get a single waltz with you." "Oh, no; please don't ask me! I do want to rest; I--" and then, suddenly making up her mind to speak out, she said, "Well, then, no; it isn't that--I know I am not clever at telling untruths--I am not at all tired, but I don't want to waltz with you, because--" "Because?" "Because I am afraid of hurting Jeanne's feelings--" "Hurting Jeanne's feelings! But how?" he asked, in surprise.