elderly female annuitant, with her servant; their combined ages exceeded
a century. On the next floor above, a family of honest bourgeois, who
were always in bed at half-past ten. On the upper floor, a lady who gave
lessons on the piano. In the building at her right lived an unmarried
government clerk, who had a maid of all work. Above him, a lady of
uncertain age, who had once been very pretty, and was still a great
coquette; who covered her face with rice powder, cold cream, and red,
blue, and black paint; who regretted the _mouches_ with which ladies
used to spot their faces, but who had made, with the aid of a red-hot
pin, two beauty spots--one on the left cheek, the other on a spot which
is not seen. But, you will say, if it is not seen, why make the beauty
spot there? Ah! you are too inquisitive! Pray, do not those persons who
are gifted with second-sight see everything, even the most carefully
hidden things? The second beauty spot was for them; magnetism is an
invaluable science.
Above this lady, whose name was Madame Picotée, were two young men who
devoted themselves to literature, which did not prevent them from
ogling their neighbors, when they were attractive.
In the building at the left, on the first floor, was a dressmaker's
establishment; on the second, a painter of miniatures; on the third, a
photographer. In all the buildings, the rooms under the eaves were
reserved for servants.
The building that looked on the boulevard contained the handsomest
apartments, and, consequently, the most important tenants of the house.
On the first floor was a very rich gentleman with two servants: a maid
and a valet. On the second, a young couple; the husband was engaged in
business, the wife in coquetry; she was pretty and a flirt, he was ugly
and a rake; they had a soubrette with a very wide-awake air, and a cook
who drank too much.
On the third floor was a young man who had just received his degree as a
physician and who lacked nothing but patients; he looked for them and
solicited them everywhere; he would have made some, if it had been
possible, but only for the pleasure of taking care of them and the glory
of curing them.
After Mademoiselle Georgette took up her abode in the entresol at the
rear of the courtyard, all eyes were fastened upon her, and the feminine
glances were foremost in seeking to scrutinize and pass judgment on the
new-comer; for women are more curious than men--that is a recognized
fact.
It was easy to obtain a sight of the latest arrival; it was April; the
weather was very fine, the sun deigned to show his face frequently; and
Mademoiselle Georgette, who was very glad to admit him to her little
entresol, left her windows open almost all day, and, as her custom was,
sat at her window working. You know what her costume was: the white
jacket fitting close to her figure, and the skirt clinging about her
hips.
So that they could look at her and examine her at their ease; and as she
was very attractive, very alluring in her simple costume, the women did
not fail to discover that it was very unseemly, and that it was most
unbecoming to her. They decided that the little shirtmaker did not know
how to dress, and that she had no other beauty than her youth.
The lady who painted her cheeks even went so far as to say that the
girl's skirt was indecent, because it outlined her figure too plainly.
To be sure, the lady in question no longer had any figure that could
possibly be outlined by her garments; but, on the other hand, she was
very fond of going to the Circus, where men perform daring feats on
horseback, and she had never found any fault with the exceedingly tight
nether garments worn by most of the riders.
The men who lived in the house disagreed entirely with the opinion of
the ladies. To a man, they voted the girl most attractive and
exceedingly well built; and they rivalled one another in passing
encomiums upon the grace with which she wore her modest costume. The
short black petticoat was declared to be enchanting; and from the first
to the topmost floor, the male tenants said to one another:
"Have you seen the girl on the entresol, with her little short skirt?"
"Yes, she's very piquant, is that young woman; she has such a
well-set-up figure, and such well-rounded hips! She reminds me of the
famous Spanish dancer, Camera Petra."
"Yes, yes, there's a resemblance in her skirt. I saw her in the yard,
drawing water at the pump."
"Still in her simple négligé?"
"Yes. Ah! messieurs, if you could have seen her pump! She was so
graceful, and her skirt followed her motions so perfectly! It was enough
to drive a man mad!"
"She has a very pretty leg too, and a tiny foot."
"She's a mighty pretty girl! I must try to make a conquest of her."
"And I."
"And I."
"And I," said the photographer to himself; "I'll do it quicker than any
of 'em, as I'll go to her and suggest taking her picture on a card; for
all these young girls are delighted to have their picture."
VIII
A GENTLEMAN WHO DID NOT RUIN HIMSELF FOR WOMEN
There was one man in the house who said nothing; to be sure, he was too
lofty a personage to gossip with his neighbors! It was the man who
occupied the first-floor suite in the building on the boulevard. His
name was Monsieur de Mardeille; was he of noble birth, or was he not?
that is of little consequence to us; but this much is certain: he had
about twenty-five thousand francs a year and he never spent the whole of
his income.
Monsieur de Mardeille was at this time about fifty years of age, but he
looked hardly forty-four. He had been a very comely person, and was
still far from ill-looking. He was of commanding stature, well built,
and had had the good fortune not to grow stout as he grew older; thus he
was still capable of making conquests, his physical advantages being
reinforced by those due to the possession of wealth. Always dressed in
the height of fashion, but wise enough to avoid those extreme styles
which, while they are endurable in a young man, are ridiculous in middle
age, Monsieur de Mardeille had a distinguished bearing and the manners
of the best society; and lastly, while he was no eagle, he had that
social cleverness which often consists only in a good memory, and is
infinitely more common than natural cleverness. With all the rest, he
was exceedingly presumptuous, and believed himself to be very shrewd.
It is almost superfluous to say that Monsieur de Mardeille took the
greatest care of his health, for he was most solicitous to retain his
good looks, and, consequently, his youth; which last is a decidedly
difficult thing to do, as we grow older every day. But still, so long as
a man has a youthful look he tries to persuade himself that he is really
young; to be sure, there is always something in our inmost being that
reminds us how old we are; but so long as that something does not let
itself be seen, we are entitled to forget it.
Monsieur de Mardeille, then, took the greatest care of his person; he
took medicinal baths twice a week; he took all the laxatives that keep
the complexion fresh; he indulged in no excess, either at the table or
in love. In fact, as he was a man who thought of nothing but himself, he
had never allowed himself to undergo the slightest annoyance because of
a woman, for egotists never love. Moreover, this gentleman prided
himself upon never having spent money on a mistress. We do not call it
spending money when we take a lady to dine at a restaurant, or to the
play, or to the Bois in a calèche; for, in such cases, as we have our
share of the pleasure, and as we gratify our vanity by parading our
conquest, the money is spent for our own behoof. So that Monsieur de
Mardeille, having thus far succeeded in having _bonnes fortunes_ that
cost him nothing, laughed at his friends, most of whom ruined
themselves, or at least ran into debt, to satisfy the whims of the fair
ones for whom they sighed.
"What the devil!" he would say, looking at himself in a mirror; "do as I
do, messieurs! No woman ever resisted me, and yet I never gave them
diamonds or cashmere shawls--still less, money, egad! And I have always
taken good care not to pay their milliner's bills; whenever it has
happened that a lady who had been kind to me has taken it into her head
to send one of her purveyors to me with a little note begging me to help
her out of a scrape by paying his bill, I have always begun by turning
the man out of doors; and then I have ceased visiting my fair one, to
whom I have written: 'I found it impossible to accommodate you, and I
dare not see you again.'--Then my mistress was certain to come running
after me, overwhelming me with tokens of affection, and crying: 'Can it
be that you thought that I loved you from selfish motives? Why, it is
you, you alone, whom I love! Oh! come back, come back!'--I have
generally let them pull my ear for a while, and then gone back, amid
transports of love on their part. For you may be perfectly sure,
messieurs, that a woman will never love a man more because he is very
gallant and very generous with her. She will take more pains about
deceiving him, that's all; for she will hate to lose his gifts and his
bounty; but what pleasure is there in possessing a woman who clings to
you only from motives of self-interest?"
"But," some of his friends would reply, "have you never felt the
pleasure of giving? Are you insensible to the delight one feels in
gratifying a woman's desires, in humoring her fancies, her caprices, and
in the sweet smile with which she thanks you when you take her a
present, whether it be some pretty trifle, or a magnificent jewel?"
"Pardieu! I can readily believe that she smiles at you then; you
wouldn't have her make a face at you, would you? But that gracious
smile, which transports and intoxicates you, is not bestowed on you, but
on the jewel or the shawl that you bring her. And perhaps you think that
she loves you the more for it? Why, not at all; she will deceive you the
next minute, making fun of you with the friend of her heart, to whom she
will laughingly show the present you have just given her. No, messieurs,
I do not know, nor have I any desire to know, what you choose to call
the pleasure of giving. For that pleasure would deprive me of all
confidence in my mistress; and if I am deceived, I can, at all events,
say that it has cost me nothing.--And then," De Mardeille would add, "I
must say that I have always chosen my conquests in good society, and
that, consequently, my mistresses did not need to have me treat them
generously."
"That proves nothing. Whatever a woman's rank, she is always flattered
to receive a handsome present."
"Perhaps so; but, on the other hand, I am much more flattered when she
loves me without any presents."
Now you know the gentleman who lived directly opposite Georgette, and
whose windows, being on the first floor, enabled him to look directly
into the apartments in the entresol opposite; which entresol was
occupied by the pretty shirtmaker, who, as we have already had the
privilege of informing you, often left her windows open to enjoy the
balmy spring air, and perhaps also to allow her neighbors to see her.
When a woman is pretty, she does not hide herself, unless she is under
the sway of a jealous tyrant. And even then she finds a way to let some
portion of her person be seen, which may kindle a desire to see the
rest.
Monsieur de Mardeille condescended occasionally to sit at a window in
his dining-room, which looked on the courtyard; and there, in a stylish
négligé, enveloped in a handsome dressing-gown, of velvet or dimity
according to the season, his head covered with a dainty cap, the tassel
of which fell gracefully over his right ear, and from beneath which
escaped some stray brown locks, which were sternly forbidden to turn
gray, my gentleman would bestow a glance or two on those of his
neighbors who were worth the trouble of looking at. But thus far he had
discovered nobody in the house who deserved to be scrutinized for more
than an instant.
When Georgette moved in, Monsieur de Mardeille's valet lost no time in
informing his master that he had a new neighbor opposite, and added:
"I thought she seemed to be very good-looking."
"Ah! she seemed to you to be good-looking?" replied the old dandy, with
a smile. "What sort of woman is this new tenant?"
"She's an unmarried woman, so it seems, monsieur, and she makes men's
shirts."
"A shirtmaker! What! do you presume to praise a shirtmaker to me,
Frontin?"
Monsieur de Mardeille had insisted that his valet should consent to be
called Frontin, although his real name was Eustache; for the name
Frontin, which used to be employed in all comic operas, reminded our
elegant seducer of a multitude of interesting and diverting love
intrigues, wherein Frontin's master was always triumphant; and it was
probably with a view to reproducing in actual life those scenes of the
stage that Monsieur de Mardeille had dubbed his servant Frontin. If he
had dared, he would have called him Figaro; but he himself was beginning
to be a little mature to play Almaviva.
Frontin, a great clown who deemed himself very shrewd, smiled as he
answered:
"Faith! monsieur, I thought that a pretty girl was a pretty girl, even
if she was a shirtmaker!"
"There may be some little truth in what you say, Frontin; but so far as
I am concerned, you must understand that I look at women with other eyes
than yours; that is to say, to appear pretty to me, a young woman, even
a grisette,--for I do not absolutely debar grisettes,--must have
something more than the commonplace beauties which charm you other men
on the instant. She must have a--I don't know what--a certain peculiar
fascination which we connoisseurs readily recognize, and to which the
common herd of martyrs pay no heed. Tell me, Frontin, what you noticed
especially alluring in this girl? I shall see at once whether you're an
expert."
"What I noticed, monsieur?"
"Yes. And, first of all, where did you see her?"
"I saw her pass this morning, monsieur, crossing the courtyard; I was in
the concierge's lodge, and he said to me: 'See, there's the new tenant
of the little entresol! That's Mamzelle Georgette; she's a shirtmaker,
and she sews like a fairy, so they say.'--Naturally, I looked at her. I
should say that she's about twenty, very well built, with very pleasant,
attractive eyes; eyes of the sort that--that----"
"Enough, Frontin, I understand. What else?"
"_Dame!_ monsieur, her nose is a little turned up, and she has a very
large mouth; I saw her teeth when she spoke to the concierge; there
isn't one missing, monsieur."
"Pardieu! if her teeth were decaying at twenty, that would be
unfortunate!"
"But I mean that her teeth are very white and even; and her cheeks are
rosy and fresh."
"I see! a simple, country beauty! she's probably just from the country."
"Oh, no! she doesn't look in the least like a peasant; she carries
herself too easily for that."
"Well, I will see, I will examine her, I will run my eye over her. But I
will wager--a toothpick--that your pretty neighbor is a mere ordinary
beauty. Does she ever sit at her window?"
"Oh! better than that, monsieur: she leaves all her windows wide open,
and from ours we can look right into her room; we can even see her
little bed in the rear!"
"Ah! we can even see her bed? And she leaves her windows open?"
"I presume that she shuts them when she goes to bed. And she has
curtains."
"Ah! Frontin, you knave, you have noticed all that! she has curtains!
Parbleu! it would be a pretty state of things if she hadn't! Morals,
Frontin, morals! However, I will take a look at this young woman whom
you think pretty, and tell you if you know what you're talking about."
"Oh! I am sure that monsieur will agree with me."
A few moments later, Frontin ran to his master and said:
"Monsieur, our young neighbor's windows opposite are wide open, and
she's sewing at one of them; you can see her at your ease."
Monsieur de Mardeille arose, saying:
"This devil of a Frontin! he insists that I must see his little
shirtmaker. But beware! if you have disturbed me just to show me some
commonplace face, I shall withdraw my confidence in your taste."
Although he pretended that he went to look at his new neighbor solely to
oblige his servant, he was not at all sorry to assure himself whether
she was in fact as attractive as Frontin said; for Monsieur de Mardeille
had always been very fond of the fair sex; to seek to attract women had
been almost the sole occupation of his life; and for the last few years
that occupation had been much more laborious, and had demanded much more
time and trouble. It is useless to appear only forty-four years old when
one is fifty; there are women who think forty-four too old--usually
those who are about that age themselves. A middle-aged man finds it
easier to make the conquest of a mere girl than of a woman who has known
life. Why is it? Probably because the former lacks the experience of the
other.
Monsieur de Mardeille took up his position at one of his dining-room
windows; he assumed a graceful attitude, leaning on the window sill; he
pushed his cap a little farther over his right ear, then turned his eyes
to this side and that, not choosing to let anyone suppose that he had
come there to look at the new tenant of the entresol.
Soon, however, he carelessly cast a glance in that direction. Georgette
was sitting at the window, sewing, and from time to time she too glanced
into the courtyard; there is no law against a young woman's desiring to
become acquainted with the faces of her neighbors.
Monsieur de Mardeille therefore was able to scrutinize the young
shirtmaker's features at his leisure. She, when she raised her eyes from
her work, saw plainly enough that her opposite neighbor was examining
her; but that fact seemed not to embarrass her in the least, for she
raised her head as often as before to look out of her window.
"Not bad! not bad!" muttered Monsieur de Mardeille; "a little nose _à
la_ Roxelane, fresh cheeks, eyes that look bright enough and saucy
enough! But nothing extraordinary; I have seen all that a hundred times.
She's rather a pretty girl, but nothing more. She doesn't deserve all
your high-flown praise, my poor Frontin."
But thus far he had only seen Georgette seated, so that he had no
opportunity to admire the shapeliness of her figure or the grace of her
carriage. Luckily, chance willed---- But was it really chance? We will
not take our oath to it; women are so quick at divining what is
calculated to seduce us! But, no matter! let us charge it to the account
of chance that it occurred to the girl to leave her seat to water a
small pot of violets that stood on the other window sill.
Thereupon her opposite neighbor had an opportunity to watch her walk
about her room; for one does not find on the instant all that one
requires to water flowers, especially when one has no watering pot. So
he saw Mademoiselle Georgette in her jacket and short petticoat; he
could even see her foot and the lower part of her leg; for the
girl--still by chance--went several times to the rear of the room,
walking back and forth, after she had watered her flowers; and Monsieur
de Mardeille, who was about to turn away from the window, remained
there, and did not stir.
"Ah! the devil!" he was muttering now; "ah! that's very pretty, that is!
_Fichtre!_ what a figure! what hips! what a foot! what a leg! This is
infinitely superior to all the rest. What a brisk walk! She reminds me
of Béranger's ballad."
And he began to hum:
"'Ma Frétillon! ma Frétillon!
Cette fille
Qui frétille,
N'a pourtant qu'un cotillon!'"
Amazed to hear his master sing, Frontin said, with a downcast
expression:
"So, monsieur doesn't think that the little one opposite deserves all I
said in her praise?"
"Hush! hush! hold your tongue, Frontin!" replied Monsieur de Mardeille,
without leaving the window or taking his eyes off his neighbor; "I said
that, but I hadn't then seen her graceful, willowy form, or the little
black skirt that outlines her voluptuous hips so perfectly. It is
adorable! Indeed, it is well deserving of one's attention! And her foot!
she has a charming foot! and the leg promises----"
"Ah! I am very glad that monsieur sees that I was right, and----"
"Hush, Frontin, hush! She's looking in this direction."
Georgette had, in fact, raised her head at that moment, and her eyes had
met her neighbor's of the first floor. Monsieur de Mardeille eagerly
seized the opportunity to bestow a gracious salutation upon the new
tenant, who replied with a courtesy and a very amiable smile.
Thereupon Monsieur de Mardeille left his window, saying:
"We must not be too lavish of our attentions at once! But from the way
the little one smiled at me, I see that this conquest will not cost me
much trouble."
IX
THE LITTLE BLACK SKIRT DOES ITS WORK
While Monsieur de Mardeille deemed himself certain of triumphing over
the young shirtmaker, almost all the other tenants of the house were
trying to make a favorable impression on her. Georgette's little skirt
had turned all their heads. The young men of letters were pleased to
write verses in her honor, to commemorate her seductive figure in a
ballad; they proposed to immortalize Georgette as Béranger immortalized
Lisette, as all lovelorn poets have tried to immortalize their
mistresses and their love affairs. Each of them believed himself to be a
Virgil, a Catullus, a Tibullus, a Petrarch. There is no harm in that: we
ought always to believe ourselves to be something; it affords one so
much pleasure and costs so little!
The miniature painter determined to propose to paint the girl's
portrait. The photographer hoped that she would allow him to photograph
her in all sizes and in different attitudes.
The young doctor was bent upon attending her, and prayed heaven to
inflict some trifling indisposition upon his pretty neighbor which would
compel her to have recourse to his skill. The married man, who was very
ugly and had a pretty wife, naturally considered the shirtmaker much
better-looking than his wife. As he lived above Monsieur de Mardeille,
he too had an excellent view of Georgette's apartment. So he frequently
stationed himself at one of the windows in his dining-room; and from
thence, not content with staring at his neighbor, he had no scruple
about making signs and throwing kisses to her--in a word, indulging in a
pantomime most discreditable to a married man. The truth was that he
knew that his wife was not jealous, and that she paid little heed to his
acts and gestures.
In fact, even the old bachelor, who had a maid of all work, ventured to
make eyes at the pretty shirtmaker, despite his fifty-five years; and as
his windows were not opposite hers, in order to see her he was obliged
to lean very far out of his window.
Thereupon the maid of all work never failed to cry out:
"Mon Dieu! monsieur, it's perfectly ridiculous to lean out like that!
What is it you're trying to see, anyway? Is monsieur trying to throw
himself out of the window on account of the little shirtmaker on the
entresol? On my word, she isn't worth the trouble! She's no great
wonder; and then, monsieur won't have anything to show for the crick in
his neck, for the girl never looks in this direction."
And the bachelor, irritated, but desirous none the less to deal gently
with his maid, would reply:
"You don't know what you are talking about, Arthémise! I don't look in
one direction more than another. I stand at the window because it does
me good to breathe the fresh air. I don't pay any attention to my
neighbors; I didn't even know that there was a shirtmaker on the
entresol."
"Oh, yes! tell that to the marines! you can't fool me! Why, all the men
in the house are getting cracked over that girl! It's easy enough to see
that, for they pass about all their time at their windows, now."
In truth, as soon as Georgette's window was open and she sat down by it
to work, you would see a head appear on the fourth floor, then another
on the second; and sometimes they all appeared at the same moment. It
seemed to amuse Georgette, who would respond affably with a little nod
to the salutations addressed to her from every floor.