"Yes," replied Henry, "quite well--but Jean is very _chic_ and never goes about without a change of dress-coats; he has, at least, three here; he would certainly lend him one--they are exactly the same figure." "That would be nice!" "Oh, he would be glad to do it! Giraud is a very nice fellow; we should all like him, if----" He stopped short, and Bijou asked: "If what?" "Oh, nothing! I'll go and see about this business--at old Clagny's time of life it doesn't matter whether one is got up all right or not; but for Giraud, it's another thing. I am sure he would feel it very much if he thought he looked ridiculous, especially----" "Especially?" "Especially before you!" Bijou shrugged her shoulders, and ran away down the long corridor. VI. ALTHOUGH Bijou had superintended the laying of the cloth, and had herself attended to the flowers, the service, and the _menus_, she was ready for dinner before anyone else. Carrying in her arms an enormous bunch of roses, she entered the drawing-room just as the marchioness had gone upstairs to dress. She was so much taken up with arranging her flowers on a side-table that she did not see M. de Clagny, who was watching her attentively as she came and went, with the pretty, graceful movements of a bird as it flies backwards and forwards before finally perching itself. At length, however, he spoke, and the sound of his voice made Denyse start. "It's very certain that it came direct from Paris--that pretty dress," he said. "Oh!" exclaimed Bijou, scared, "you nearly frightened me." And then, going up to the count, and daintily patting her light, gauzy dress, she continued: "That pretty dress did not come from Paris; it was made at Bracieux, near Pont-sur-Loire." Thoroughly astonished, the count asked: "Oh, no! by whom, then?" "By Denyse, here present, and by an old sewing-woman, who is a dresser at the theatre." He had risen, and was now walking round the young girl in almost timid admiration. She was so pretty, emerging from the pinky-looking cloud, which seemed to scarcely touch her dainty little figure, and out of which peeped her shoulders, tinted, too, with that singular pinky gleam which made her delicate skin look so velvety and soft. M. de Clagny could not help thinking that Bijou was not only beautiful to look at, but fascinating in the extreme, with her tempting mouth, and her innocent, frank eyes. The charm of her person was rendered all the more complex by this same child-like expression.