"No!" he murmured, in a stifled sort of voice.
"You are afraid to? but why? I constantly hear grandmamma, Bertrade, Paul, and Uncle Alexis, saying over and over again that you are the kind of man women like; she would be sure to like you, too, and she would marry you, I am certain." She leaned towards him, nearly touching his ear as she whispered to him, and not caring what effect her familiarity might have. "Listen, now, if you like I will tell her for you, and I am quite sure what her answer will be."
Jean rose abruptly, and seizing Bijou's hand, he asked excitedly:
"What are you saying?"
"I am just saying that she will love you, if she does not already."
"But of whom are you speaking—of whom?" he stammered out, aghast.
She answered him in a hesitating way, with a frank look on her pretty face, but she spoke in such a low voice that he could scarcely catch her first words.
"I am speaking of——"
"Bijou!" called out Pierrot, separating them unceremoniously, "grandmamma says you are forgetting about the tea." And then, looking at their faces, he went on: "Well, I never! you are both as red as cherries; there's no mistake about it, it's baking hot in here."
Denyse hurried away, and Pierrot continued: