"Why, what's going on?" she said; "the hall-door steps look black with people."
"Hang it!" exclaimed Pierrot crossly. "They are all out there watching for you! There's Paul, and there's Henry, and the abbé, and Uncle Alexis, and Bertrade. Look, though! Who's that? You are right—there are some other folks too. Ah! it's old Dubuisson, and Jeanne, and then there's a fellow I don't know; a fellow all in black. Oh, well! he must be a shivery sort to come to the country dressed in black, in such heat as this."
"Perhaps it's M. Spiegel, Jeanne's fiancé. They were to bring him."
"Yes, that must be it! I say, he doesn't look a very lively sort, your Jeanne's fiancé. She isn't though either—"
Bijou was looking round to see what had become of Giraud, who had suddenly become so silent. He was following the young girl, worshipping her as he walked along as though she were some idol.
Just at this moment, whilst Pierrot was very much taken up with looking in the direction of the château, the little bunch of clematis dropped from Bijou's dress, and fell at the tutor's feet. He picked it up quickly, and slipped it into his pocket-book, after kissing it, with a kind of passionate devotion, whilst behind him, the old groom, silent and correct as usual, laughed to himself.
IX.
M. Dubuisson, whom the students called "Old Dubuisson," was the principal of the college.