"You are annoyed with me for saying that?" she asked, in her pretty, coaxing way. "Oh, not at all! I am delighted, on the contrary; it is very satisfactory, for, with you, one knows exactly what to count on; and then, if one has any delusions, well, they don't have to hang fire." "You had delusions--what were they?" "No, I hadn't one of any kind." "Oh, yes, I can tell by your voice; you speak in a sharp, bitter, irritated way. Tell me why you are so bad-tempered all in a minute?" she asked, in a coaxing tone, leaning against him, and looking up into his face. He stepped back from her as he answered: "When one is not very good to start with, and one has trouble, it makes one go to the bad; it is inevitable!" "And you have trouble?" "Yes." "Is it very bad?" "Well, quite bad enough, thank you!" "Poor Jean; things don't go as you want them to, then?" "What do you mean? What are you talking about?" "Why, about--oh, you know very well! I told you the other evening!" "That again!" he said, getting more and more worked up; "how foolish you are!" "What, do you mean that you do not care for Madame de Nezel?" exclaimed Bijou. "Madame de Nezel is a charming woman," he stammered out, in an embarrassed way. "She is an excellent friend whom I like very much, very much indeed, but not in the way you imagine." "Ah! so much the worse for you; she is a widow, and she is rich; she would just have suited you. Well, then, you like someone else?" "Yes." "Someone you cannot marry?" "Exactly." "Why? isn't she rich enough?" "Oh, no, it is not that; if she had not a farthing it would be all the same to me; it is the other way round, I am not rich enough for her, and then--she would not have me." "You do not know; you ought to tell her that you love her." "Do you think so?" "Why, of course--try that, at any rate." "Very well, then, Bijou, I love you with all my heart--but I know that there is no hope, and, unfortunate wretch that I am, I dare not even ask for any." "You love _me_!" she exclaimed, in deep distress, and then, stopping short, she repeated: "_you_--Jean?" "Yes, and what about you? you detest me, do you not?" "Oh, Jean, how can you say such things? You know very well that I love you, though not in the way you want me to, or as I should like to be able to, but very much, all the same; indeed I do." She put her hand on his shoulder, obliging him to stand still, and then passed her hand over his eyes. "Oh, Jean," she exclaimed, in great grief, "tears, and all because of me! Oh, please, don't--no, indeed you must not; do you hear me, Jean?" He took the little hand, which was stroking his face, and kissed it passionately. Then putting Bijou, who was clinging to him, gently aside, he left her abruptly, and strode off alone. XIII. "THEN, you really mean that you are going?" asked Bijou sorrowfully, as Jeanne Dubuisson folded her dresses into the tray of a long basket trunk.