"Dear me! it isn't that there'd be any difficulty about it," protested Pierrot. "I could very well if I wanted to, but—confound it!"
"Confound it! again?" said the young tutor, annoyed, and looking reproachfully at his pupil. "You know that M. de Jonzac objects to your speaking in that way. He particularly wishes you to be more careful, and more correct, in your choice of words."
"Oh, well! if he were to talk to my friends, he'd hear a few things, and he'd soon get used to it, too. It's always like that; just a matter of getting used to things."
"I cannot imagine that very well, though," said Bijou; "Uncle Alexis letting himself get used to the style of conversation of your friends."
She drew up whilst she was speaking, and pointed to something in the wood.
"Oh! look at that beautiful mountain ash, isn't it red? How pretty those bunches are!"
"Do you want some of those berries?" proposed Pierrot.
"Yes, I should like some, they are so beautiful."
The youth entered the coppice, and they heard the branches snapping as he broke them in order to make himself a passage, and presently the top of the red tree shook and swayed, now bending down, and now springing up again, as Pierrot shook it roughly.
Bijou, with her head bent, and a far-away look in her eyes, seemed to be in a dream, quite oblivious of what was going on around her. She started on hearing Pierrot's voice as he called out to her to know whether he was to gather a large bunch.