"Mademoiselle," proposed the abbe, "I can spare you the trouble." "Oh, no; thank you very much, monsieur, but you know I never feel quite happy if I have not kissed Fred." She went out by the door opposite the terrace. "Your grand-daughter is decidedly the most charming girl I have ever come across," remarked M. de Clagny to the marchioness, and then he added sadly; "It is when an old man meets women like that, that he regrets his age." "I must say," answered Madame de Bracieux, laughing, "that even if you were young, you would not be just the husband I dream of for Bijou." "And why not, if you please?" "Well, because you are, or at least you were, rather--how shall I put it?--rather large-hearted." "Large-hearted! good heavens, yes, I was! but that was the fault of those who did not know how to keep my affection. I assure you, though, that with a wife like Bijou, I should never have been what you call _large-hearted_." "Oh, as to that," said Madame de Bracieux incredulously, "one never knows." On leaving the drawing-room, Bijou crossed the hall, and instead of going up the wide staircase which led to the children's rooms, she lifted the old green tapestry curtain which covered the door of the butler's pantry. Just as she was going to open this door she turned back into the hall to get a long, dark cloak, which was hanging there. It was a Berck fisherwoman's cloak, which she always put on when it rained. She wrapped herself up in it hastily, and then went into the pantry, where it was now quite dark. From the kitchen she could hear the loud voices of the servants, who were at dinner. Denyse went across to the open window, got up on to a chair, and then gathering her skirts closely round her, stepped out on to the window-sill, and jumped lightly down into the garden. Once there, she hesitated an instant. The terrace seemed to stand out distinctly, lighted up by the drawing-room windows. In the chestnut avenue she could distinguish in the shade the red gleam of cigars. Suddenly she pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head, and evidently making up her mind, started off quickly along the dark pathway which led to the other avenue. During this time her faithful admirers were waiting on the terrace for her to come and join them as she had promised, and the ponderous Gisele was endeavouring vainly to organise a game at hide-and-seek. The men seemed to have no energy; Madame de Tourville was afraid of spoiling her dress; and Madame de Juzencourt was strolling about with Jean de Blaye and Madame de Nezel. Presently, however, she went back to the others alone, and Mademoiselle de la Balue wanted to persuade her to have a game, but she refused emphatically. She certainly was not going to run about, she said, considering that she was too warm already with only walking; she had just had to leave Therese de Nezel and Jean de Blaye, for she could not walk another step.