"Ah! that's it, is it," said Pierrot to Bijou, "now they're beginning the examination again. Renan—who in the world was he now?"
"You do not know who Renan was, do you?" asked M. de Jonzac blandly.
"No, father, I don't," replied the boy.
"What?" exclaimed Giraud, surprised; "why, only the other day we were talking about him."
"About him?" repeated Pierrot, quite astounded, "do you mean to say that I was talking about the man?"
"Why, yes—come now; try to remember—I mentioned one of his works."
Bijou, who had just before only been listening with one ear to what Pierrot had been telling her, so that with the other she could keep up with the general conversation, remembered the title that had been quoted. She was looking at her plate, apparently taken up with the strawberries, which she was rolling about in the sugar. "The 'Origin of Language,'" she whispered very quietly.
"Come now, have a good try," repeated the tutor. "I mentioned one of M. Renan's books to you—which one?"
"'The Language of Flowers,'" answered Pierrot resolutely.
"That's right!" exclaimed Bertrade, delighted: "we can always reckon on something lively from Pierrot."