"Do be quiet!" said Bijou, alarmed, and looking round to see if anyone had heard.
"Don't be in a fright! They are all busy worrying each other; they are not troubling about us. It's quite true what I said, you know; and then Jean, too, and Henry, and Monsieur Giraud! There's scarcely anyone, except Abbé Courteil, who does not follow you about to every corner you go; and then—"
"You are talking rubbish! how can you imagine—"
"I don't imagine it—I see it!—and I see it, because it annoys me!"
Just at this moment M. de Jonzac's voice was heard.
"Oh, no!" he was saying, "I am convinced that he has no idea that Renan ever existed. He does not know a thing—not a single thing."
"Oh, yes," put in the tutor, in his usual gentle and conciliatory way, "as regards Renan, I am sure that he knows. Only three or four days ago I had occasion to quote him as the author of the 'Origin of Language.'"
"Well, I would wager that he does not even remember his name—Pierrot!" called out M. de Jonzac.
The poor lad, entirely absorbed in his conversation with Bijou, had no idea that he was being discussed. On hearing his name called, he turned his head towards his father, vaguely uneasy.
"Pierrot," asked M. de Jonzac, "who was Renan?"