"You are good, Pierrot."
"It isn't because I'm good;" he said, and then coming nearer, so that he touched the horse, he added very softly: "It's because I'm so fond of you."
Bijou did not answer, and in another minute Pierrot began again:
"How well you sang last night. Didn't she, M'sieu' Giraud?"
"Wonderfully well," said the tutor. "And what a lovely voice! so fresh, and so pure. I can understand something now which I did not understand yesterday."
"What may that be?"
"The infinite power of the voice! Yes, before hearing you I did not know what I know at present. You will sing again, will you not, mademoiselle? Fancy, I have been here three weeks, and I had never had the happiness of—"
"I will give you that happiness as much as ever you like."
She was joking again now, for the little dreamy creature of a minute before was Bijou once more.
As they approached the château, she put her hand up to shade her eyes.