floor slowly, with his head swathed in bandages. "I have done what I
could to amuse myself, but I have had poor success; however, I must
admit that I sleep less--especially since I received this wound in the
face. I won't go to balls any more in search of _bonnes fortunes_. But
sometimes one goes far afield in search of what one has close at hand.
In one of those attic chambers opposite, I have noticed a young
woman--very pretty she is, on my word! and, above all, well built. I am
the better able to judge, because I see her in négligé costume--a
morning jacket, and a short fustian skirt, as well as I can see from
here. But how alluring that simple négligé is! It enables one to admire
a shapely, flexible figure, and hips! oh! such well-rounded hips! She
has a fine shape! It is impossible not to fall in love with such a
shape!"
And Dupont, opening his window, although it was quite cold, leaned
bravely out, and fastened his eyes on his neighbor's window. It was
closed, but the curtains were not drawn, and he could easily see the
young woman who lived there, and who was at that moment engaged in
arranging her hair before a mirror fastened to the window shutter.
"Her face is captivating," said Dupont to himself; "wide-awake brown
eyes, a turned-up nose--_à la_ Roxelane, as they say--and a mouth--hum!
the mouth isn't small, but it's well furnished; and then, she has a very
pleasant smile. But, on the whole, there's nothing extraordinary about
the face, and I prefer the figure. Ah! good! now she's walking about the
room--still in that charming costume, tight-fitting white jacket, and
the little striped skirt that hangs so well over her rounded hips. I
can't see her foot or leg, but they must be beautiful; a tall, graceful
figure almost always means a good leg. I certainly am dead in love with
that figure; I must make that girl's acquaintance. She must have noticed
my assiduity in watching her. It doesn't seem to displease her; there's
nothing savage in her manner; on the contrary, there's a merry, aye, a
mischievous look about her face, which seems to be intended to encourage
one to make her acquaintance. She is probably a seamstress. As soon as I
can go out, I'll ask the concierge opposite; I know how to make those
fellows talk."
Meanwhile, being engrossed by his neighbor, Dupont slept much less, and
sometimes even passed the night without sleep. That was good progress,
and he said to himself:
"What a change my wife will see in me when I go back to
Brives-la-Gaillarde! All I'm afraid of is that there the desire to sleep
will return."
His wound being healed, Dupont was able to get rid of all the bandages
in which his head was swathed. He made haste to leave the house,
crossed the street to the house in which the girl with the striped skirt
lived, and entered the concierge's lodge. In Paris, the porters have all
become concierges; just as the shops have become _magasins_; the wine
shops, _maisons de commerce_; the hair dressers' establishments, salons
where one is rejuvenated; the groceries, dépôts for colonial produce;
the bakers, pastry cooks; the _marchands de confection_, tailors; the
book shops, _cabinets de lecture_; the cafés, restaurants; soup houses,
_traiteurs_; indeed, even those gentry who haul refuse at night have
assumed the title of _employés à la poudrette_.
Dupont accosted the concierge most affably, and slipped his irresistible
argument into the hand of that functionary, who, happening to be a
woman, asked nothing better than to talk, and instantly laid aside her
one-sou illustrated paper, and answered without stopping for breath:
"The girl who lives on the third, second door at the left, is named
Georgette; she embroiders for a living, and she has lots of talent; she
embroiders like a fairy, so they say! She's twenty years old, I believe,
and she hasn't been in Paris long. She's a Lorrainer, and she's full of
fun, always ready to talk; and yet I think she's straight. Still, I
wouldn't put my hand in the fire to prove it! it's never safe to put
your hand in the fire about such things; you'd get burned too often! But
I don't see any men go up to Mademoiselle Georgette's. Does she meet any
of 'em outside? That's something I can't tell you. You see, when that
girl goes out, I don't follow her. But she leads a regular life all the
same, and never goes to balls, although I don't think it's the wish to
go that's lacking, for I've heard her say more'n once: 'How lucky people
are who can afford to enjoy themselves! When shall I have twenty
thousand francs a year?'--But, although she hasn't got it, that don't
seem to make her sad; for she sings all the time. That's all I can tell
you about her, seeing that it's all I know."
"Twenty thousand francs a year!" muttered Dupont, scratching his head.
"The devil! it's not I who'll give it to her!--So she embroiders, you
say?" he continued.
"Yes, monsieur."
"What?"
"What do you mean by _what_?"
"I mean, what does she embroider?"
"Oh! collars, handkerchiefs, caps, whatever anyone wants her to
embroider."
"Then I might ask her to do something for me?"
"That's your right."
"Very good. I'll go up to Mademoiselle Georgette's."
"Third floor, monsieur."
"Oh! I know."
"Yes, but there's two or three doors; it's the one where you see a
toothbrush instead of a tassel on the bell cord."
"I'll remember."
As he mounted the stairs, Dupont said to himself:
"What in the devil can I have her embroider? Ah! a cravat! I believe
they're not in fashion, men don't wear embroidered cravats now; but, no
matter, I'll tell her it's the fashion at Brives-la-Gaillarde; and,
after all, what does she care, so long as I give her work?"
He reached the third landing, where there were several doors; but he
discovered the little toothbrush hanging at the end of a bell cord, and
he boldly pulled it.
The door was opened by Mademoiselle Georgette herself, who smiled
mischievously when she saw who her visitor was. She was still dressed in
the white jacket and short fustian skirt; that costume was very
becoming to her, it showed off all her good points. If we dared, we
would say that that costume is becoming to all women--but we should add:
provided they are well built.
"Mademoiselle Georgette--embroiderer?" inquired Dupont, assuming rather
a patronizing air.
"Yes, monsieur."
"Mademoiselle, I came--I should like--I was told----"
"Pray come in, monsieur; I don't receive my visitors on the landing."
Dupont asked nothing better than to accept the invitation. He entered a
room of which he had only caught a glimpse from his window. It was
simply furnished, but extremely neat and clean; the floor was scrubbed
and waxed; there was not a speck of dust on the furniture; the bed was
very white and smooth; all of which spoke loudly in favor of the
occupant. Demosthenes, being asked what constituted an orator, replied:
"Elocution, elocution, elocution!" A philosophical king, being asked
what occasioned the fall of the ramparts of a city, replied: "Money,
money, money!" And Ninon, being asked what was the most beautiful
ornament of womankind, replied: "Cleanliness, cleanliness, cleanliness!"
The girl offered Dupont a chair; she did the honors of her domicile with
infinite ease, and seemed in no wise intimidated by her visitor. He, on
the other hand, while he tried to assume an imposing manner, became
exceedingly awkward, and had much difficulty in finding words,
especially as Mademoiselle Georgette waited for him to speak, with an
expression which seemed to indicate a powerful desire to laugh.
"I came, mademoiselle, for----"
"For something, I presume, monsieur."
"Yes, mademoiselle; I have been told--that you embroider."
"You were told the truth. Have you something you wish to have
embroidered?"
"Yes--that is to say--I don't know whether embroidered cravats are worn
in Paris?"
"No, monsieur; they are not in style now."
"Indeed! and cuffs?"
"Nor cuffs either."
"And--handkerchiefs?"
"For ladies; oh! yes, monsieur, some beautiful embroidery is done on
handkerchiefs."
"Ah! very good! You do embroider handkerchiefs!"
While they conversed, Dupont cast frequent glances at the young woman's
feet, which were small and well arched; the lower part of the leg was
very shapely; so that his thoughts were diverted, and he murmured again
and again:
"Ah! you embroider handkerchiefs!"
In a moment Mademoiselle Georgette laughed heartily, and thereby
completely disconcerted her visitor, who gazed at her in amazement,
saying:
"You are very merry, I see, mademoiselle."
"It is true, monsieur, that I do not engender melancholy."
"And might I ask what has aroused your merriment at this moment?"
"Why, you, monsieur!"
"I! Ah! it is I who make you laugh! Do you find me so very amusing,
pray, mademoiselle?"
"Amusing is not the word, monsieur; but, to speak frankly, you are far
from clever in inventing a pretext."
"A pretext! What do you mean? I don't understand."
"Still, it's easy enough to understand. You wanted to have an excuse, a
reason, for coming to my room--for you have nothing to be embroidered."
"What makes you think that, mademoiselle?"
"Do you suppose that I do not recognize you, monsieur?"
"Ah! you recognize me, do you?"
"To be sure; you live at the small hotel opposite, where you pass your
time staring at me, making eyes at me----"
"Ah! you have noticed that?"
And Dupont puffed himself out like a turkey-cock; he was gratified to
have been observed, and drew a favorable augury from that fact.
"Yes, monsieur, I have noticed that," the young embroiderer continued.
"How could I have helped seeing it, unless I was blind? Why, the other
day, when you came to the window, it was horribly cold, and your nose
was all blue! I was strongly tempted to make faces at you."
At this point, Dupont bit his lips and did not puff himself out.
"I didn't do it, because I presumed, seeing your head all bandaged, that
you were either sick or hurt; and one should always take pity on those
who suffer; but you are cured now, it seems."
"Yes, mademoiselle; I fought a duel, and was wounded in the head."
"Ah! you fought a duel, did you, monsieur? May a body, without being too
inquisitive, ask what was the cause of your duel?"
"It was a lady, of great distinction, with whom I happened to be, and at
whom an insolent knave presumed to look too closely."
"You fought for a lady! That was very well done, and leads me to forget
your glances at me; but tell me, monsieur, why you have come here
to-day?"
"Since you are so good at divination, mademoiselle, you ought to have no
difficulty in guessing. I saw you from my window, I found you charming,
and I desired to make your acquaintance."
"Good! that is plain speaking! And with what purpose do you wish to make
my acquaintance? Perhaps you hope to make me your mistress?"
"I do not say that, mademoiselle."
"No, but you think it! As if that wasn't always what men aim at, when
they fall in with a poor girl who is weak and foolish enough to believe
them! But I am generous enough to warn you that you will waste your time
with me."
"In any case, mademoiselle, it would be difficult to waste it more
agreeably than in your company."
"That is very prettily said. But, monsieur, I will confess that I have a
fancy for knowing the people whom I receive. Now, I don't know you."
"That is true, mademoiselle, that is very true; one must know with whom
one is dealing."
And Dupont, who had prepared his little story in advance, straightened
himself up in his chair and continued:
"I am an--an American; I was in business, but I have retired; I have
money enough to be happy; I am a widower, without children, and
therefore at liberty to do exactly as I please."
"Very good, monsieur. And your name?"
"My name is--Dupont."
"Dupont--that is quite a French name; I thought Americans had names more
like the English."
"That depends on their origin; my family was French. Now that you know
who I am, mademoiselle, will you allow me to pay court to you?"
"I see no objection--provided that you haven't lied to me; for, I give
you fair warning, I hate liars!"
Dupont bowed, scratched his head, and rejoined:
"You wished to know who I was, mademoiselle, and I have gratified your
wish. In my turn, may I be permitted----"
"To know who I am! Oh! that is soon told: you already know that my name
is Georgette, and that I am an embroiderer. I was born at Toul, a pretty
village in Lorraine, near Nancy. My parents are not rich, and I have two
sisters, both older than I. My two sisters came to Paris in the hope of
being better off here and of being able to help our parents, but they
didn't succeed. Poor sisters! Then they came back again to us."
"And you have come to Paris in your turn. I am surprised that your
parents consented to let you leave them. They might well have been
afraid that you would be no more fortunate than your sisters."
"Oh! but I was determined to come to Paris; I had made up my mind to do
it; and when I make up my mind to do a thing, it's got to be done."
"That indicates a strong will."
"Yes, monsieur; I have a very strong one."
"And since you have been in Paris, have you found it pleasant?"
"So-so; not too pleasant! Certainly there are plenty of means of
enjoyment in Paris, one has such a choice of pleasures! Plays, balls,
promenades, concerts--all of them are delightful to those who can afford
such diversions. But when you stay in your chamber all day long, and
pass your evening working or reading, you hardly enjoy life in Paris."
"That is very true. But what prevents you from enjoying all these
amusements that tempt you?"
"Can a woman who is all alone go about to plays and promenades?"
"No, certainly not; but you can have had no lack of cavaliers ready to
offer you their arms."
"True; but I don't go with everybody, monsieur; I don't accept the arm
of the first comer! Certainly, if I had chosen to listen to all the
young men who have followed at my heels and overwhelmed me with their
silly declarations of love,--love that seized them all of a sudden when
they saw me walk along the street,--I should have had plenty of
opportunities! But that isn't what I want!"
Dupont caressed his chin, saying to himself:
"She is exacting; she doesn't choose to go about with every _gamin!_ She
wants to make the acquaintance of a _comme il faut_ man. All the chances
are in my favor."
Mademoiselle Georgette had resumed her embroidery, looking out of the
corner of her eye to see how her visitor bore himself. He looked at her
work and exclaimed:
"Mademoiselle, you embroider superbly."
"Do you think so, monsieur? Are you a connoisseur?"
"Yes, my wi--my sister used to embroider."
"Is she in America?"
"Yes, she remained there."
"It's not surprising, monsieur, that I know how to embroider well, for I
come from a province renowned for its embroideries. The very best of
that sort of work is done at Nancy."
"And you are from Nancy?"
"No; but Toul is quite near. Well! do you really want some handkerchiefs
embroidered?"
Dupont began to laugh, and replied:
"Faith! no; and since you have so shrewdly guessed that I came here
solely in the hope of making your acquaintance, shall I be so fortunate,
mademoiselle, as to have your permission to cultivate it--to come again
to see you--and perhaps to offer you my arm sometimes and take you to
the play or to walk?"
Mademoiselle Georgette reflected a few moments, gazed earnestly at
Dupont, and said at last:
"You have not lied to me in what you have told me about yourself? You
are really a widower and free?"
"No, mademoiselle, I have not lied to you," Dupont replied
unhesitatingly.
"In that case, monsieur, come to see me; I am willing."
"Ah! mademoiselle, you make me the happiest of men!"
"But you must not make your visits too long; that might compromise me."
Dupont rose, bowed to the young woman, and took his leave, saying to
himself:
"She is mine! It may perhaps take longer than I should have liked, but
it's only a question of time now. She is mine! and I haven't the
slightest desire to sleep."
IV
YOUNG COLINET
A fortnight had passed. Dupont called very frequently on his neighbor,
of whom he was more enamored than ever; for to the charms of her person
Mademoiselle Georgette added wit, high spirits, and entertaining
conversation. Less than these were enough to turn the head of our
provincial, who lost his appetite, and slept no more than two hours in
succession during the night, because his love was in no degree
satisfied, and his desires augmented with the presence of her who gave
birth to them. But he was no further advanced in that direction than on
the first day. If he took the girl's hand, she laughingly withdrew it;
if he tried to kiss her, she pushed him away without ceremony; if he
ventured to place his hand on her knee, or tried to put his arm about
her waist, she assumed a severe expression and said to him in a very
decided tone:
"If you don't stop that, I'll turn you out and never admit you again!"
Thereupon Dupont was fain to cease his audacious experiments, and said
to himself again as he went away:
"It will take a long time! it will take much longer than I thought!
However, I shall certainly gain my end; for if the girl hadn't found me
to her liking, she wouldn't have consented to receive my visits, she
wouldn't go out with me and accept presents from me. She plays the
cruel, to give greater value to her conquest. That is coquetry, yes,
immodesty--but it can't last forever."
Mademoiselle Georgette did, in fact, accept Dupont's escort readily
enough to the play, to concerts, and to go out to walk. As for balls,
Dupont did not offer to take her to any, nor did she seem to desire it.
One thing she had always refused: that was, to dine in a private
dining-room at a restaurant.
"I am willing to dine with you at a restaurant," she said; "but we will
dine in the main dining-room, with other people."
In vain did Dupont say:
"The service isn't so good in the main dining-room; and then, too, it's
bad form--ladies who dine at restaurants never go to the public room."
Georgette was inflexible; she would not give way. As a general rule, she
seemed to go with Dupont, not for the pleasure of being with him, but to
see the people and to be seen herself.
She dressed very modestly. Dupont had said to himself: "The way to
capture a woman is by giving her things to wear, by encouraging her
coquetry;" and he had sent the young embroiderer a pretty shawl, a silk
dress, and a stylish bonnet. She had accepted his gifts without
argument, and had arrayed herself in them that same day to go to the
Opéra-Comique with him. But when, after escorting her home at the close
of the performance, he had asked permission to go up to her room for a
moment, she had shut the door in his face, saying:
"I should think not! it's quite enough to receive you in the daytime."
Mademoiselle Georgette made frequent conquests when she was on Dupont's
arm; then our provincial became jealous, for it seemed to him that his
companion was distraught at times, and that she paid too much attention
to the men who ogled her, and not enough to him.
Then, too, the young woman was very curious; at the play, she would call
his attention to a stylishly dressed young dandy and say:
"Do you know the gentleman in that box, just opposite us, with an opera
glass in his hand?"
"No; I haven't an idea who he is," Dupont would reply sourly; "I don't
know anyone in Paris."
"Ah! to be sure; I forgot that you had just come from America. It's a
pity!"
"Why is it a pity?"
"Because you don't know anyone in Paris."
"And even if I did know the young man you refer to, how would that help
you?"
"Oh! not at all. I simply wanted to know."
Another time, it was a middle-aged man, but dressed in the height of
fashion, and mimicking all the manners of a young dandy, whom
Mademoiselle Georgette noticed on one of the public promenades and
pointed out to her faithful attendant.
"Do you know who that man is?"
"How in the devil do you suppose that I know who he is?"
"Ah! to be sure! you are just from America--I forgot that."
On returning to his room, Dupont would say to himself:
"Why does she question me about the men we meet walking, or at the
theatre? That doesn't amuse me at all! She is a great flirt, is that
girl; she doesn't lower her eyes when a man looks at her; she acts as if
she was delighted to make conquests. And yet she's virtuous, perfectly
virtuous! I know that better than anybody; but all she wants is to go
out, to show herself. Ah! she has such a fine figure! When she's on my
arm, everybody admires her carriage, her figure above all! and her foot,
and her leg! How can a man help falling in love with all that? I can't
eat or drink on account of it; and I lost the power to sleep long ago;
I'm growing thin; to be sure, I'm not sorry for that, but I'm growing
perceptibly thinner. If this goes on, I shall look like a Pierrot
instead of a Punchinello."
One day, Dupont had been in his pretty neighbor's room for several
minutes; he was watching her work, and was doing his utmost to persuade
her that he adored her, while the girl listened with manifest
indifference, like one who was thinking of something other than what was
being said to her, when there came two light taps at her door.
"Someone is knocking," said Dupont, with an air of surprise.
"Yes, I thought that I heard a knock."
"Are you expecting company?"
"No; but why shouldn't people come to see me? You came, whom I certainly
did not expect."
"Listen--they're knocking again. It is certainly at your door."
"Come in!" cried Georgette; "the door isn't locked."
In fact, the young woman was always careful to leave the key in the lock
outside when Dupont was with her, in order to give less occasion for
gossip.
The door opened and a young man appeared and stopped on the threshold.
He may have been about twenty years old, although he looked younger. His
fresh, ingenuous face was exceedingly youthful; his great blue eyes,
gentle and tender, had almost the charm of a woman's eyes; his chin was
covered with an almost imperceptible down; his forehead was without a
wrinkle, and his light chestnut hair grew naturally and at will, having
never known the hand of a hairdresser. Take him for all in all, he was a
very pretty fellow; of medium height, but slender and graceful.
His dress was neither that of a peasant nor that of a Parisian youth. He
wore broadcloth trousers, almost skin-tight, with long leather gaiters
reaching to the knee, a velvet waistcoat with metal buttons, and a
rough, long-haired hunting jacket. Lastly, he held in his hand a felt
hat, with a round crown and broad brim, and a stout knotted stick.
"Mamzelle Georgette, if you please?" said the young man, still standing
in the doorway.
At the sound of that voice, the young woman sprang to her feet, crying:
"Colinet! it's Colinet!"
And she ran to the new-comer, seized his hands, then his face, and
kissed him again and again, with every indication of the keenest
delight.
"Dear Colinet!" she said. "Oh! how glad I am to see you!"
"And I am very glad to see you, Mamzelle Georgette!" the young man
replied. "For they told me Paris was so big, I was afraid I wouldn't
find you!"
Dupont meanwhile looked on with a strange expression on his face, saying
to himself:
"It seems that she lets some people kiss her! More than that, she kissed
him first! The devil! the devil! I wonder if I'm nothing better than an
old fool! That would be humiliating!"
Georgette took the young man's hand, and leading him into the room
presented him to Monsieur Dupont, saying:
"This is a friend of my childhood. We used to play together when we were
children--didn't we, Colinet?"
"Yes, Mamzelle Georgette."
"Let us pray that they won't continue to play together, now they're
grown up!" thought Dupont, who was forced to admit that the young man
was very comely.--"Is monsieur from your province?" he asked.
"Yes, to be sure, and he's just come from there.--Isn't that so,
Colinet?"
"Yes, mamzelle; I arrived last night at the Plat d'Étain, where I'm
staying, on Carré Saint-Martin."
"And my mother and father and sisters--do tell me about them."
"They are all well, thank heaven! and they all told me to be sure and
kiss you for them."
"Well! kiss me for each of them."
Young Colinet lost no time in kissing Georgette again; while Dupont's
face became a yard long, and he said to himself:
"Are they going to pass all their time kissing? That fellow has obtained
more in two minutes than I have in a month. I simply must change my
batteries."
When young Colinet had delivered all his kisses, Georgette bade him sit
down and said:
"Didn't my sisters give you anything for me?"
"Oh! yes, excuse me; Mamzelle Aimée, the oldest one, gave me a letter,
which I've got here in my pocket."
"Oh! give it to me, quick!"