Part 17

"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.

The female contingent was horrified by the conduct of the gentlemen; for no one of them had ever shown the slightest desire to gaze at one of the beauties of the establishment; to be sure, there were none, save the ugly man's wife, and she never appeared at any of the windows looking on the courtyard. Her bedroom faced the boulevard, and she would have considered that she compromised her reputation by showing herself at one of the rear windows.

By way of compensation, her husband was one of the most enterprising, one of those who tried most frequently to see Georgette, and who indulged in telegraphic signals to which the young shirtmaker paid no attention whatever. But that did not discourage Monsieur Bistelle,--that was the gentleman's name,--who continued to throw kisses to the girl, which she pretended not to see; it scandalized all the neighbors, however.

The young dressmakers amused themselves at Monsieur Bistelle's expense, and pointed him out to one another as soon as he appeared at his window. The lady of the beauty spot, Madame Picotée, always stationed herself at her window as soon as her neighbor came to his, and burst into roars of laughter, a little forced. At every kiss that Monsieur Bistelle threw to Georgette, she cried:

"Oh! mon Dieu! what fools some men are! but I never saw one quite so bad as this fellow! And a married man, too! why, it's shocking! The Bastille ought to be rebuilt on purpose for such people."

Monsieur Bistelle heard it all; but it made no impression on him, and he often said to himself, in an undertone:

"Bah! if I had chosen to send her a kiss, she wouldn't have thought it so shocking!"

Monsieur de Mardeille was very careful not to act so foolishly as his neighbor on the second floor. He also stood at his window to look at Georgette; but, far from making signs and throwing kisses to her, he contented himself with a low bow, to which the girl never failed to respond with a pleasant smile. But as Bistelle was often looking out just as Georgette nodded and smiled, he took for himself the salutation addressed to the floor below; so that his hopes gained strength; he was enchanted; he would rub his hands in glee and sometimes go down to walk in the courtyard, where he would stop under the shirtmaker's windows, humming:

"''Tis here that Rose doth dwell!'"

or:

"'When one knows how to love and please, What other blessing doth he lack?'"

And the young dressmakers never failed to clap their hands and demand an encore. One day, Madame Picotée had the bright idea of tossing him two sous, which he laughingly picked up and put in his pocket, saying: "This will buy me some rouge and rice powder."--Which remark maddened the lady of the beauty spot, who ran for her slop jar and would have emptied it on her neighbor, but for the presence of the concierge, who was sweeping the courtyard.

Meanwhile Frontin, who soon discovered that his master was enamored of the damsel of the entresol, told him all that happened in the house, and all the foolish freaks to which Monsieur Bistelle resorted in his endeavors to commend himself to Mademoiselle Georgette.

"What do you say? that ugly creature hopes to make a conquest of that pretty grisette?" cried Monsieur de Mardeille; "didn't he ever look at himself in the glass?"

"I don't know whether he knows how ugly he is," replied Frontin; "but I assure you, monsieur, that he flatters himself that he has made an impression on Mademoiselle Georgette; he declares that she smiles sweetly at him when he's at his window."

"Smiles! Why, it's at me that the girl smiles, not at him! It's impossible that it should be at him! The conceited ass! the monkey! for the fellow looks very much like a monkey, doesn't he, Frontin?"

"Yes, monsieur; and he makes gestures like one, too."

"What! do you mean to say that he presumes to do what monkeys do?"

"Faith! monsieur, he goes through some very curious performances; they're very much like it! But that isn't all."

"What else is there, Frontin?"

"I know that Monsieur Bistelle sent a very fine bouquet to Mademoiselle Georgette this morning."

"A bouquet! The popinjay! He had the assurance! And did the little one accept his bouquet?"

"Yes, monsieur; indeed, it's on her window sill now."

"Can it be possible? I must look."

Monsieur de Mardeille lost no time in going where he could see the shirtmaker's window; he not only saw a huge bouquet on the sill, but he saw Monsieur Bistelle walking in the courtyard and humming:

"And if I am not there, At least my flowers will be."

"Well, well! I must act, that is plain!" said the elderly dandy to himself; "I must declare myself in some other way than by standing at the window. Still, I can't make a straight dash for that grisette's rooms; that might compromise me. Ah! I have an idea! It's as simple as can be. She makes shirts. There's a pretext right at my hand.--Look you, Frontin."

"Here I am, monsieur."

"I want you to go to Mademoiselle Georgette's."

"The pretty neighbor's?"

"Yes; you will present yourself in my name, and most politely. You will say to her that, as I have heard that she is a shirtmaker and as I have some very fine shirts to be made up---- That isn't true; I don't need any, but they are always useful and I can safely order a dozen.--You will say to her then, that, as I have some work for her, I shall be much obliged if she will take the trouble to come to my rooms. You understand: in this way, I don't compromise myself, and I shall be able to talk to her much more freely than in her apartment."

"Yes, monsieur, yes; I will go and do your errand."

"Be perfectly courteous and respectful; that flatters these little girls."

"Yes, monsieur; and you don't want me to take her a bouquet too?"

"Nonsense! what good do bouquets do? There's nothing so commonplace! Do you suppose that I intend to copy Monsieur Bistelle? No, no, never a bouquet; I don't need that sort of thing to succeed. Go, Frontin; if the young shirtmaker asks you at what time I can receive her, say that she is entirely at liberty to choose the hour that is most convenient to her, and that she will always be welcome. I think that's rather pretty, eh? That's worth more than a bouquet."

Frontin departed, to perform the mission with which his master had intrusted him. But the bouquet sent to Georgette by Bistelle had been seen by the whole house. Instantly, as if he had lighted a train of powder, all the aspirants to the girl's favor had determined that they must not lag behind, and that the moment had come to try to make her acquaintance.

The young literary man who dabbled in poetry purchased a small bunch of violets for two sous--we are all gallant according to our means;--but he wrapped it in a sheet of note paper, whereon he had written this quatrain:

"Je vous ai vue, agissant à la pompe; En vous tout est charmant, tout est vrai, rien ne trompe; Vous déployez alors des mouvements si doux, Que l'on se damnerait pour pomper avec vous!"[D]

The young poet gave his bouquet and his verses to the concierge, to be delivered, instructing him to say to the girl that she must read what was written on the paper. A little later, the poet's confrère also appeared with a modest bouquet; but his forte was vaudevilles rather than poetry, so that the offering which accompanied his flowers was a ballad, and he laid the same injunction on the concierge.

Next came the photographer, who sent a package of photographs of the most popular actors. It is well known that young working girls, as a general rule, have a pronounced penchant for actors. Our photographer had no doubt that his gift would be most acceptable, and he told the concierge to say to Mademoiselle Georgette that he would be highly flattered if he might be permitted to photograph her.

Next came the miniature painter, who sent a dainty pasteboard box on which he had painted a swarm of little cupids in exceedingly graceful attitudes. As he handed his box to the concierge, he said:

"You will not fail to assure Mademoiselle Georgette that the artist who executed all these cupids would esteem himself very fortunate if he might paint his neighbor's portrait free of charge, and in whatever costume may be most agreeable to her."

A few moments after the miniature painter, the young doctor appeared and handed the concierge a package, saying:

"Be kind enough to hand this to Mademoiselle Georgette, with my compliments; it contains mauve, linden leaves, and poppy seeds; they are all excellent to take when one has a cold, and it rarely happens that a person goes a whole year without a cold. You will say to the young lady that I solicit her permission to attend her."