"Oh, nothing at all! nothing at all!" said M. de Clagny hastily, and then after a moment's silence, he asked: "Is Madame de Nezel as pretty as ever?" "She is very pretty." "As pretty as you?" Bijou smiled. "Why do you make fun of me? I know very well that I am not pretty," she said. "It's my turn now, my dear little Bijou, to ask why you make fun of an old friend who admires you as much as it is possible to admire anyone, and who, alas! is not the only one." "Why do you say alas?" "Well, because when one admires or loves, one would like to be the only one to admire or love; one's affection makes one selfish and jealous." "And after--let me see--how long--three hours--yes, after three hours' acquaintance, you already have some affection for me?" asked Bijou, looking quite joyful. "Yes, a great deal!" answered M. de Clagny very seriously. "So much the better, because, you see, I too, I like you very much!" And, as though she were just talking to herself, she added: "I had imagined you very different, I expected to see you not at all like you are." "Younger?" he asked sadly. "Oh, no, just the opposite; they had always spoken of you as a friend of grandpapa's, and grandmamma always said, 'my old friend Clagny,' so that you can understand when I saw you, I was quite surprised." "But why?" "Because you looked to me to be--I don't know exactly--about forty-five perhaps?--well, say like Paul de Rueille; and then, you are very handsome, and, for my part, I like people who are handsome." "Your cousin De Blaye is handsome!" "Jean?" she said, as though she were turning it over in her mind, "is he as handsome as all that? He does not strike me in that way, you see. When people are always together they end by not noticing each other!" "I am quite sure that he notices you!" "Oh, no! people don't notice me as much as you think! They care for me because I was left alone in the world at the age of seventeen; and then, when grandmamma took possession of me, like some poor little stray dog, and carried me off to her home, why, they all felt interested in me, and made me very welcome, and I was their Bijou whom they all tried to bring up and to spoil, whose faults are always looked over, and who always has her own way." "And Bijou is quite right; that's the only good thing there is in life--having one's own way, when one can." "One always can," she said, speaking as though she were not aware that she was saying anything, and then suddenly advancing towards the bay-window, she exclaimed: "Ah! there, now! the Tourvilles! and grandmamma is not down stairs again yet!" Bijou went forward to greet the new-comers--a lady dressed very handsomely, followed by a common-looking sort of man, with very stiff manners, who, on the whole, was decidedly snobbish.