"Don't you think it is rather ridiculous to call me Bijou now that I am old?"
"You look as though you were fourteen, and you always will look like that, I promise you."
"Isn't it rather risky to promise me that?"
She laughed as she glanced at him, and he, too, looked at her as though he could not take his eyes away from the pretty, fresh young face turned towards him. He was paying no attention to the road, which was in a very bad state, until suddenly the right wheel went into a rut, and the gig gave a jerk, which sent Denyse on to him. She clung to his arm with all her might, and they remained an instant like this until they were able to regain their balance. The wheel, then, in some way or another, got clear of the deep rut in which it had been caught, and the horse went on again at a quick pace as before.
"That's right!" said Bijou, laughing heartily. "I certainly thought we should be upset."
"It was as near a shave as possible," he answered gravely.
She loosened the grasp of her small fingers, which had been pressed tightly on her cousin's shoulder.
"Is it really over?" she asked. "You are not going to begin again, I hope?"
M. de Rueille did not answer. He was looking at her with an absent-minded, troubled expression in his eyes.
"Yes; but, instead of looking at me, do look before you," she went on. "We shall get into another rut directly, you'll see."