"Yes, really!" affirmed the abbé, quite horrified. "M. de Rueille is vexed with Mademoiselle Denyse!"
"Come here, Bijou!" called out the marchioness, and the young girl tripped across the room to her grandmamma, and knelt down on the cushions at her feet.
"You ought not to let Bijou go on in that way with you!" said M. de Rueille, going up to Jean, and speaking in a low voice.
"Go on in what way? are you dreaming?"
"I am not dreaming at all. Denyse is twenty years old, you know!"
"Twenty-one," corrected the young man.
"All the more reason—she really ought to behave more carefully!"
"Poor child, she behaves perfectly!" and then looking at his cousin, he added: "I really don't know what's up with you?"
"Oh, I'm in the wrong," murmured M. de Rueille, slightly embarrassed. "Of course, I'm quite in the wrong!"
"Absolutely so!" said Blaye drily, getting up from his arm-chair.