explain yourself a little more clearly----"
"It doesn't suit me to do so at this moment; but, never fear, you won't
lose anything by waiting."
The neighbor took his hat to go, saying to himself:
"I won't lose anything? That's a question. I am very much afraid I shall
have nothing to show for my brooch. If I dared, I'd ask her to give it
back; but I don't dare, especially as I have an idea that she wouldn't
do it. This little vixen holds me in awe; she has such a way of
speaking, such a decided tone! What an idiot I have been! This will
teach me to make sacrifices for women!"
He turned to Georgette, and with a curt nod to her left the room,
infinitely less radiant than he had been in the morning, and muttering
between his teeth:
"Twelve thousand francs! a little shirtmaker! What are we coming to?
Great God! what are we coming to?"
XVII
A PARCEL
For a week following this interview, the tenant of the first floor front
was in an unapproachable humor. He went in and out at all hours of the
day, scolded his servant, ate hardly anything, slept badly, and did not
once go to the windows looking on the courtyard. One day Frontin
attempted to speak of the young tenant of the entresol; but his master
abruptly interposed, saying:
"If you so much as refer to the shirtmaker, if you venture to repeat a
single word relating to her, I'll put you out of doors with a kick--you
know where!"
But at the end of the week, Monsieur de Mardeille, alarmed by his loss
of appetite and his inability to sleep, and observing in dismay that his
rosy, smiling face was assuming the semblance of a baked apple, that his
brow was becoming wrinkled and his cheeks sunken, and that, if that sort
of thing continued, he would soon appear at least as old as he really
was, said to himself:
"Things can't go on like this! I try to divert my thoughts, and I can't
do it! I pay court to other women, they welcome me with open arms, yet
I don't go back to them! The image of that little Georgette is always
before my eyes! I see her going back and forth in her chamber, in her
jacket and short skirt. Her voluptuous shape turns my head! Decidedly I
am mad over that girl. And after all, I should be a great fool to pine
away with longing, when it is in my power to be that girl's happy lover!
I know what it will cost me. But, still, twelve thousand francs won't
ruin me; especially as she said in so many words that she would not ask
for anything more after that. And there are women who ask all the time.
You don't give them so much at one time, but it amounts to the same
thing, indeed it costs more in the end!"
While making these reflections, Monsieur de Mardeille walked about the
room, and finally said to Frontin:
"Frontin, is it long since you met our little neighbor?"
The valet, recalling his master's prohibition, stared at him in
amazement, and then replied:
"Madame Picotée? No; I met her in the courtyard no longer ago than this
morning."
"What's that? who said anything about Madame Picotée, you idiot? Didn't
I say our little neighbor? What do you suppose I care for that old
party? I am talking about the girl on the entresol, the charming
Georgette."
When he heard the pretty shirtmaker's name, Frontin said to himself:
"This is a test; monsieur forbade me to speak of her; he is trying to
test me."
Whereupon he put a finger to his lip and turned to his master, shaking
his head and laughing, as if to say:
"Not such a fool as you think!"
And Monsieur de Mardeille, thoroughly out of patience, shook his
servant's arm, crying:
"Will you answer me, you clown?"
"You forbade me to mention the young girl on the entresol, monsieur."
"I retract that order, numskull!"
"Oh! I couldn't guess that!"
"I want you to mention her now, and to tell me everything you know about
her. And you must know something, for you're always in the concierge's
lodge."
"Bless me! monsieur, it's the same old story: Monsieur Bistelle keeps
sending Mamzelle Georgette bouquets and billets-doux, begging her to
receive him; but, _nisco!_ she won't receive him, and she sends back his
billets-doux."
"Really? Georgette refuses to receive that fellow? That's good! She
received me; and my neighbor is rich and must have made her handsome
offers! So she gave me the preference; therefore she must have a
penchant for me! She resists me only because she's got that wretched
notion of dread of possible results in her head. But I am preferred;
therefore she loves me; it's just the same thing. Is that all you know,
Frontin?"
"Oh! the gentleman--the old bachelor, Monsieur Renardin, has been trying
to send something else to our little neighbor. He ordered a superb Savoy
biscuit. I don't know how Mademoiselle Arthémise found out about it, but
she did. So then she did sentry duty in the concierge's lodge, and
stopped the pastry cook's boy as he passed, got possession of the Savoy
biscuit, hollowed it out, and put it on her head, so that she looked
like a Turk. She went all over the house with the biscuit on her head,
and waited on her master at dinner that way. He happened to have
company, too!"
"That was well done! Think of that man flattering himself that he could
seduce her with biscuits! What a jackass!"
Monsieur de Mardeille went to the window and raised the curtain.
Georgette was in her usual place, and seemed to him even more seductive
than ever. He feared that she might be offended with him; however, he
could not resist the desire to open the window and seat himself at it;
then he watched for a glance from her. It was not long before she raised
her eyes in his direction; whereupon he made her a low bow, to which she
replied by a most affable smile. He was enchanted, radiant; he passed an
hour at the window; and Georgette looked at him and smiled several
times.
"She isn't angry; she will receive me kindly--I saw that in her eyes,"
he said to himself. "Yes, I can call on her without fear. True; but if I
don't follow out her suggestion, I shall not make any progress."
The day passed, and Monsieur de Mardeille had been unable to decide what
course to pursue. He went to his desk several times, looked through his
cashbox, counted the banknotes, gazed at them with a sigh, then restored
them to their place. Love and avarice were fighting a battle to the
death in his heart, and his long-standing habits were being subjected to
a cruel shock.
The next day he was still wavering, hesitating, unable to decide upon
any plan, when Frontin suddenly came to him and said:
"Do come and look out of the window, monsieur; Mamzelle Georgette is in
the courtyard, pumping; if you could see how gracefully she pumps!"
"Yes, yes, let's see that!"
Our lover hastened to take his place at a window that overlooked the
pump. Georgette was there, in the little petticoat that clung about her
hips; and the exercise of pumping developed all her good points most
happily. Did the girl suspect it? Probably, for she seemed to take
pleasure in what is to most people tiresome labor.
Monsieur de Mardeille, having gazed for several minutes at the animated
picture before him, hurried to his cashbox and took out a bundle of
banknotes. His hesitation was at an end; he stuffed them hastily into a
wallet, which he put in his pocket; then, making a rapid toilet, he left
his room and betook himself to Georgette's apartment, saying to himself,
like Cæsar as he passed the Rubicon: "_Alea jacta est!_"
The young shirtmaker had hardly time enough to leave the pump, reach her
room, and resume her work, ere she saw Monsieur de Mardeille enter,
eager, agitated, and throbbing with hope. He rushed toward Georgette,
took a seat near her, and said:
"My dear little neighbor, I have come to ask your pardon----"
"My pardon! Why, I have no recollection that you have offended me,
monsieur."
"Oh! yes, yes! The last time that I was here I said things to you that I
shouldn't have said."
"If you did, monsieur, I have forgotten them."
"Ah! that is well done! how amiable of you! But I could not live away
from you, charming Georgette; I was too unhappy!"
"Really?"
"It is so true, that to prove my love I have decided to submit to every
sacrifice--which I never did before for any woman. But what would one
not do to touch that bewitching petticoat, which always flies when I
try to catch it! See, fascinating girl; take this wallet; it contains
twelve thousand francs in banknotes! Will this put an end to your
rigorous treatment of me?"
Georgette's cheeks flushed; a gleam of joy, of triumph, shone in her
eyes; she took the portfolio, looked at it without opening it, and said
in an uncertain voice:
"As you have done this, I must needs yield to you. But I ask you for a
respite of one more day. I want to think of my family to-day, to recall
my childish memories; but to-morrow, oh! to-morrow, you will no longer
find me cruel!"
"I cannot refuse anything to her who promises me perfect bliss! So
to-morrow you will not be wild and shy any more--you will let me touch
that little villain of a skirt that puts my heart in a flutter?"
"Oh! I promise you that you shall touch it all you choose to-morrow, and
that I shall not object!"
"Enough, enough, my divinity! I do not care to hear any more, and I
leave you until to-morrow; for if I should stay with you, I would not
answer for my self-restraint. Until to-morrow! We will breakfast
together, and your windows will be closed, won't they?"
"They will be, you will see."
Monsieur de Mardeille took his leave; he was in raptures, and said to
himself:
"She put me off till to-morrow. I have an idea that, before yielding to
me, she wanted to know by count if there really was the amount I
mentioned in the wallet. She's a cautious damsel; she won't allow
herself to be caught very easily! But what difference does it make to
me? She will find that I haven't deceived her; and this time she will
keep her promise, I am sure."
An afternoon and evening are interminable when the next day is to
witness the fulfilment of all one's hopes. Monsieur de Mardeille did
what he could to kill the time: he called on some friends, dined at a
restaurant, looked in at several theatres, went home very late, went to
bed, and fell asleep at last, dreaming of Georgette.
The so ardently desired day broke at last. Our gallant awoke rather
late, and rang for Frontin, who came in on tiptoe.
"What time is it, Frontin?"
"Nearly ten o'clock, monsieur."
"What! you let me sleep so late as this without waking me?"
"Wake monsieur! He did not tell me to, and I should never think of
taking the liberty!"
"No matter! prepare everything for my toilet. You must curl my hair, and
take pains with it; I want to be very handsome this morning."
"Oh! monsieur always is that!"
"Not bad, for a numskull!"
"I mean that when a man is rich he is always handsome."
"You are talking nonsense now. By the way, Frontin, look out of the
dining-room window and tell me if my little neighbor Georgette is at her
window."
Frontin obeyed; in a moment he returned and said:
"It's very extraordinary, monsieur; all the windows are closed in
Mamzelle Georgette's rooms, and usually they're all wide open!"
"Closed!" repeated Monsieur de Mardeille, with a smile. "Oh! I remember;
that's what I asked her to do, yesterday; that proves that she is
expecting me. Stupid of me to sleep so late!--Come, Frontin, be quick
about my hair."
The servant dressed his master's hair in haste. When he had put the
finishing touches to it, Monsieur de Mardeille said to him:
"Now, go to the sideboard and get some madeira, bordeaux, and champagne,
which you will carry to my little neighbor, and tell her that I am at
your heels. I will be at her room in five minutes."
Frontin disappeared; but he returned before his master had finished
dressing; he had two bottles under his arms and the third in his hand,
and his face wore a more inane expression than usual.
"How is this, imbecile? Haven't you done yet what I told you? Why don't
you carry those bottles to Georgette's?" shouted Monsieur de Mardeille.
"I beg your pardon, monsieur; I've been there, but I couldn't find
anyone. That's why I've come back with my bottles."
"Couldn't find anyone! She has gone out to buy something, no
doubt.--Couldn't you wait on her landing a minute?"
"That is what I thought of doing at first, monsieur; but it was just as
well I didn't, for it seems that I should have wasted my time."
"Wasted your time? What do you mean? Come, come! explain yourself!"
"When I was coming back, monsieur, I met the concierge.--'Has Mamzelle
Georgette gone out already?' I said. 'Do you know whether she'll be back
soon?'--At that he began to laugh, and he said: 'Pardi! if you wait for
her, you'll waste your time; she went away last night.'"
"Went away last night? Nonsense! you don't know what you're saying; you
misunderstood! Went away! where did she go?"
"That's what I asked, monsieur. It seems that the girl has moved. She
paid the concierge last night; she sent for an upholsterer, and sold him
all her furniture; then she took a cab, and off she went without saying
where she was going."
Monsieur de Mardeille turned green, red, and ash-colored in turn.
"A glass of water, Frontin! a glass of water!" he stammered, dropping on
a chair. "I think I am going to faint."
The servant hastily gave his master a glass of water, saying:
"Was monsieur so very much in love with our little neighbor?"
At that, Monsieur de Mardeille threw the water in Frontin's face.
"Hold your tongue, you brute! I am robbed, that's what I am! Fetch the
concierge; I must speak to him."
"He has something for you from Mamzelle Georgette, monsieur; for he said
to me: 'Is your master awake? I've got something to give him in person
from this young woman, who gave me the parcel before she went away.'"
"And you didn't tell me that, you idiot! Go, run, and tell him to come
up instantly!"
"Hark! monsieur, someone's ringing; that must be him. I'll go and let
him in."
The old beau was still wavering between hope and fear.
"This package--why, she must have returned me my banknotes," he thought.
"She has probably reflected, and concluded to remain virtuous. If that's
how it is, I must make the best of it."
The concierge entered his tenant's apartment, bringing a rather large
parcel, carefully wrapped in paper; he carried it on his outstretched
arms, as if he were delivering the keys of a city on a salver, and
handed it to Monsieur de Mardeille, who looked at it, scrutinized it,
and at once said to himself:
"I didn't give her enough banknotes to make so large a parcel as this!"
"This is what the young woman on the entresol told me to give you,
monsieur, when she went away."
"Went away! But why did you let the girl go away? Did you give her
notice to quit?"
"No, monsieur; but she paid in full and one quarter ahead, so I couldn't
prevent her from going, especially as she seemed in a great hurry."
"And you didn't ask her where she was going?"
"I beg your pardon; she told me that she was going back to her province,
but that she should come to Paris again in a week."
"And she didn't leave you her address?"
"No, monsieur; but she left me this little note for you."
"Give it to me! you should have begun with that! Leave me now.--You go,
too, Frontin."
The concierge and the valet left the room together, agreeing that it was
too bad that he had not opened the parcel in their presence.
"I should have liked to know what it was the little shirtmaker sent
him," said the concierge.
"You had it in your hands; couldn't you feel what there was inside the
paper?"
"Faith, no!"
"Was it hard?"
"No; it was soft."
"Then it's probably a cheese that she had sent to her from her
province."
When he was alone, Monsieur de Mardeille lost no time in opening the
parcel; it contained the little black petticoat that Georgette usually
wore.
"Her petticoat! She sends me her petticoat!" cried Monsieur de
Mardeille. "What bitter mockery!"
Then he unsealed the letter and read these words:
"I told you that to-day you would be able to hold and fondle my little
petticoat at your leisure. You see that I keep my word; here it is. You
will think very badly of me, will you not, monsieur? Before you condemn
me, wait until you have seen me again, which will be as soon as I can
possibly arrange it. Yes, have no fear; you shall hear from me."
Monsieur de Mardeille was speechless; the letter dropped from his hands.
XVIII
A BLASÉ YOUNG MAN
It was a fortnight after the events we have narrated.
In a very handsome apartment on Rue de la Chaussée-d'Antin, a young man
attired in a superb robe de chambre was strolling listlessly from one
room to another, smoking a cigarette.
This young man was the Vicomte de Sommerston. The descendant of a very
wealthy Irish family, Edward de Sommerston was born in France and had
never chosen to visit the home of his ancestors. He had come into
possession of an income of eighty thousand francs at the age of
twenty-one, and had immediately plunged into the life of pleasure,
dissipation, and debauchery which ages men so rapidly.
He was tall, well built, handsome, and rich--this was twice more than
enough to kill in ten years a man who was unable to resist his passions.
The viscount was now twenty-nine; he was not dead yet, but he was not
much better than that; he had not only used, but abused everything. The
list of his mistresses was enormously long, especially as there were
many of them whom he had known no more than a week, as he was an
essentially fickle and capricious youth. The woman he adored to-day was
an object of indifference to him to-morrow. Unluckily for him, he had
never fallen in with any cruel charmers, his reputation as a rake and
_mauvais sujet_ being, on the contrary, a powerful recommendation with
the ladies to whom he addressed his homage.
Edward had run through the half of his fortune; he had enough remaining
to enable him to live comfortably, if he had known how to make a wise
use of it; but he did not know how to do anything, even to amuse
himself: everything was a burden and a bore to him. He was no longer
capable of loving; he had ruined his stomach by flooding it with
champagne and malvoisie; he still gambled from time to time, but without
enjoyment unless luck was exceedingly unfavorable to him; when he lost
heavily, he experienced a sort of excitement which brought a little life
to his pallid, wasted face.
A single passion retained its power over him: he still smoked. It was
impossible to meet him without a cigarette in his mouth; and that was
followed by another and another and another; wherever he might be, at
home or elsewhere, he smoked continually; he could not do without it,
he said. He owed that lamentable habit to the foolish good nature of
those ladies who allowed him to smoke in their rooms, and sometimes
smoked with him. What do you think about the fair sex smoking?
To no purpose had the doctors told the viscount:
"You make a mistake to smoke so much; it's injuring your health; you
cough constantly, your lungs are weak, and you'll dry them up completely
by smoking as you do; you'll go into a consumption."
These warnings, instead of being acted upon, had produced the opposite
effect on the young man, who insisted that he knew better than the
doctors.
"Bah!" he said to himself; "they tell me not to smoke. Well! I'll smoke
more than ever, to let them see how much I think of their advice."
In fact, the number of cigarettes he smoked in a day reached such a
fabulous figure, that his valet's sole occupation was to make them for
his master.
From time to time, Edward had travelled, hoping to find new sensations
amid new scenes. He had visited Switzerland, Spain, Italy, and England;
but, unluckily, the man who can scatter gold along his path meets with
no obstacles to his desires in any country; women are coquettish, men
are selfish, innkeepers have an eye to the main chance, servants are
flatterers, everywhere. In Spain, thanks to the national jealousy, the
viscount had fought several duels; but as he handled both sword and
pistol with skill, he was always victorious, which fact afforded him no
pleasure at all.
Once, as he was travelling in Switzerland, and trying to climb some
glacier, he fell over a precipice, and lay there nearly six hours before
he was rescued by guides, by means of rope ladders. He was half frozen,
but well content, and he remembered that day as one of the pleasantest
during his travels.
He had returned to Paris, after a trip to Italy, only three weeks before
we first meet him strolling about his apartments, smoking cigarettes,
which he rarely finished, and followed at a distance by his valet,
Lépinette, preparing others. Suddenly he halted in the middle of his
salon, and asked:
"What time is it, Lépinette?"
"Nearly three o'clock, monsieur le vicomte."
"Really? Give me a cigarette."
"Here it is, monsieur."
"I will finish dressing.--What in the devil am I going to do to-day,
Lépinette? Do you know?"
"I think that monsieur told three of his friends, Messieurs Florville,
Dumarsey, and Lamberlong, to call for him to ride in the Bois."
"Ah, yes! you are right. Yes, those gentlemen were to call for me.--This
one isn't well made; give me another."
"Here is one, monsieur."
"To ride in the Bois--always the same thing; it's horribly
monotonous.--Lépinette, you must find something to amuse me."
"I should like nothing better; but monsieur le vicomte is so exacting!
Things that would delight other gentlemen are indifferent to him, or
displease him."
"That is true; I am hard to amuse. I resemble Louis XIV in that. I hoped
to find something new when I came back to Paris.--This one draws badly;
give me another."
"Here is one, monsieur."
"But no--nothing new or exciting!"
"There are some very pretty women in the quarter, monsieur."
"Bah! according to your taste, not mine!--But don't I hear horses in the
courtyard?"
"Yes, monsieur; they are your friends, who have called for monsieur le
vicomte, no doubt."
"Bigre! and I am not dressed! Never mind! they can wait.--Give me a
cigarette."
XIX
THE VISCOUNT'S FRIENDS
The viscount's friends entered his salon in riding costume, hunting crop
in hand.
The first was a tall youth of nearly six feet, and so slender and frail
that he seemed in danger of breaking in two when he stooped; especially
as he was always dressed in the latest style, and squeezed and pinched
himself so that not the slightest crease could be detected in his
clothes. Many ladies envied that young man his figure. His name was
Florville, and his face was not unattractive.
The second was a young man of medium stature, whose hair was bright red,
as were the rims of his eyes; which did not prevent him from esteeming
himself a very good-looking fellow; he dared not turn his head, for fear
of rumpling his collar or disarranging the knot of his cravat. He was an
habitué of the Théàtre-Italien; he never missed a performance, insisted
on posing as a great connoisseur in music, and declared that he could
easily have reached high C, if his voice had been cultivated; but it had
not been. This individual, so laughable by reason of his manners and
his pretensions, was Monsieur Lamberlong.
The third of the viscount's visitors was a man of about thirty,
remarkable neither for beauty nor ugliness, rather stout than thin, with
a good-humored, smiling face, and all the manners of a high liver. His
name was Dumarsey.
Florville and Dumarsey had enormous cigars in their mouths. The young
man with the red hair did not smoke; by way of compensation, he had a
little square glass over his right eye, and kept it in place almost all
the time; his kind friends declared that he ought to wear one on the
left eye as well, in order to conceal both his albino-like lids.
"Here we are! here we are, Edward!--The deuce! he's not ready!"
"I was sure he wouldn't be; I'd have bet on it."
"Well! what's your hurry, messieurs? In the first place, it's too early
to go to the Bois. We have time enough. I will finish dressing.--Lépinette,
give me a cigarette."
"Here is one, monsieur."
"Will you allow me to complete my toilet in your presence?"
"Go on, go on, take all the time you want!" said Dumarsey; "I have a
good londres; that's enough for me."
"For my part," said Florville, "I am not satisfied with this so-called
Havana."
"If you would like a cigar, Monsieur Lamberlong, you'll find a box on
the console yonder. I smoke nothing but cigarettes myself, but I always
keep a few cigars for my friends."