"Well, but so am I--I am very religious, and that is just why I would never have a priest as tutor. Yes, don't you see, if he should be an intelligent man, why, just for the sake of one or two, or even several children--but anyhow only a small number, you make use of his intelligence, which his calling had destined for the direction of his flock, and you prevent him from teaching, comforting, and forgiving the sins of poor creatures, who, as a rule, are much more interesting than we are. If, on the other hand, the priest should be an imbecile, why, he just devotes himself conscientiously to distorting the mind of the little human being entrusted to him, and in both cases you are responsible, either for the harm you do, or the good you prevent being done---Ah! here's Bijou, let me look at her; I shall enjoy that more than talking about your abbe," and the marchioness pointed to her grand-daughter, who was just entering the room, and who looked like a walking basket of flowers. Denyse de Courtaix, nicknamed Bijou, was an exquisite little creature, refined-looking, graceful, and slender, and yet all over dimples. She had large violet eyes, limpid, and full of expression, a straight nose, turning up almost imperceptibly at the end, a very small mouth, with very red lips going up merrily at the corners, and showing some small, milky-white teeth. Her soft, silky hair was of that light auburn shade so rarely seen nowadays. Her tiny ears were shaded with pink, like mother-of-pearl, and this same pinky shade was to be seen not only on her cheeks, but on her forehead, her neck, and her hands. It shone all over her skin with a rosy gleam. Her eyebrows alone, which crossed her smooth, intelligent forehead with a very fine, and almost unbroken dark line, indicated the fact that this frail and pretty little creature had a will of her own. Bijou, who looked about fifteen or sixteen years of age, had attained her majority just a week ago, but from her perfect and dainty little person there seemed to emanate a breath of child-like candour and innocence. Her charm, however, which was most subtle and penetrating, was distinctly that of a woman, and it was this contrast which made Bijou so fascinating and so unlike other girls. Such as she was, she infatuated men, delighted women, and was adored by all. As soon as she entered the room, all rosy-looking in her pink dress of cloudy muslin, with a sort of flat basket filled with roses, fastened round her neck with pink ribbon, everyone surrounded her, glad to welcome the gaiety which seemed to enter with her, for until her arrival the large room had felt somewhat bare and empty. Paul de Rueille, who was playing billiards with his brother-in-law, Henry de Bracieux, came to ask for a rose from her basket, whilst Henry, who had followed him, took one without asking.