"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."