Bijou

Madame de Bracieux was working for her poor people. She poked her thick, light, tortoise-shell crochet-needle into the ball of coarse wool, and putting that down on her lap, lifted her head and looked across at her great-nephew, Jean de Blaye.
Jean, she said, what are you gazing at that is so interesting? You stand there with your nose flattened against the window-pane, just exactly as you did when you were a little boy, and were so insufferable.
Jean de Blaye lifted his head abruptly. He had been leaning his forehead against the glass of the bay-window.
I? he answered, hesitating slightly. Oh, nothing, aunt—nothing at all!
Nothing at all? Oh, well, I must say that you seem to be looking at nothing at all with a great deal of attention.
Do not believe him, grandmamma! said Madame de Rueille in her beautiful, grave, expressive voice; he is hoping all the time to see a cab appear round the bend of the avenue.
Is he expecting someone? asked the marchioness.
Oh, no! explained M. de Rueille, laughing; but a cab, even a Pont-sur-Loire cab, would remind him of Paris. Bertrade is teasing him.
I don't care all that much about being reminded of Paris, muttered Jean, without stirring.
Madame de Rueille gazed at him in astonishment. One would almost think he was in earnest! she remarked.
In earnest, but absent-minded! said the marchioness, and then, turning towards a young abbé, who was playing loto with the de Rueille children, she asked: