The glass which she passed to him showed the effect of the contact of her hand.
"Are you not still too warm to drink?" she asked. "This lemonade is very cold."
He took the glass with a hand that trembled slightly, and stood there, with his arm stretched out, looking at Bijou with passionate admiration.
"Monsieur Sylvestre," she said, smiling, "a penny for your thoughts."
The young man's face, which was already red, flushed deeper still. He drank his lemonade at a draught, and hurried to the piano.
"Let us begin, mademoiselle! shall we?" he said, and he played the short symphony of the song in a hesitating way, as though his fingers refused to act. This was so noticeable, that Denyse asked him:
"What is the matter with you? you are not in form to-day, at all."
"Oh, it's nothing, mademoiselle; I—it is so warm."
Being rather short-sighted, and never using a lorgnette, Bijou was obliged to bend forward to read the words of the song, and sometimes, in doing so, she touched the professor's hair or shoulder. This served to increase his agitation, and at times he could scarcely see what he was playing, whilst his fingers would slip off the notes.
"Really, you are not at all in form to-day," repeated Bijou, surprised.