"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 assure 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!"