And then all at once a feeling of utter loneliness came over him, and a vision of the life that would from henceforth be his rose before him with strange distinctness. He shuddered in spite of himself, and then he fell to going over again in his mind all his sorrows.
In the meantime, Bijou had shown Jeanne Dubuisson to the room she was to occupy during her visit to the château.
"It is your imagination, I tell you; nothing but your imagination," she said to her friend. "He does like me, certainly, but just in the way one cares for a cousin, or even a sister."
"No! It was quite enough to look at his face when he went out of the drawing-room. He was quite upset, and I am sure he has not got over it yet."
"Wouldn't you like me to go and ask him? But, there, it is seven o'clock. We have only just time to dress. I will come back for you when the first dinner-bell rings."
When Bijou came out of her bedroom, simply but charmingly dressed, as usual, the long landing was dark and silent. The servants had drawn the blinds, but had not yet lighted the lamps.
Jean, who was coming out of his room, could just distinguish, in the darkness, a few yards away from him, a figure in a light dress. He hurried up to it, and Bijou asked:
"Is that you, Jean?"
"Yes," he answered; "and I want a word with you."
"Something that won't take long? The first bell has gone."