Frédérique, vol. 2

At nine o'clock the following morning, Frontin carried to Georgette's apartment a terrine de foie gras, a small Reims ham, cakes, some superb fruit, bordeaux, madeira, and champagne. The valet, remembering the tone in which the shirtmaker had spoken to him, was as polite to her now as he had formerly been impertinent.

Georgette received all these supplies with no indication of surprise, whereas Colinet, who had already arrived at his compatriot's rooms, opened his eyes in amazement and exclaimed:

"What! are we going to eat all that? Why, what a feast, Mamzelle Georgette! what a feast! That gentleman must be head over heels in love with you to send you so many good things!"

"Do you think that that proves his love, Colinet?"

"Well! it must prove something, anyway!"

"Yes, it proves that he would like to seduce me; for there are women who allow themselves to be seduced through their appetite."

"Oh, yes! there are lots of 'em. Why, at home, there's Manette, who went into the woods with Blaise for a plum tart! But you ain't one of that kind, Georgette!"

"I should think not! Do I ever forget anything you tell me? Especially as Suzanne and Aimée are always terribly impatient to get your letters."

"I can believe it. Poor sisters!"

"Have you told them that you're coming home soon?"

"Not yet, my friend, not yet."

"Are you going to stay in Paris much longer?"

"Mon Dieu! I haven't any idea."

"And your mother, dear Maman Granery! Oh! she longs so for you!"

"My mother! Oh! Colinet, please tell her that I love her as dearly as ever, that she will never have to blush for me, and that I—— But, hush! I hear Monsieur de Mardeille."

The neighbor from the first floor entered the room, all smiles and amiability and merriment. He presented his respects to Georgette and slapped Colinet familiarly on the shoulder.

"Really, monsieur, you are very kind to us," said Georgette; "you have sent us so many things! My poor little pie won't dare to appear beside your gifts!"

"You are jesting, my dear neighbor! We will punish your pie with the rest—eh, Monsieur Colinet?"

"Yes, monsieur, I ask nothing better."

"In that case, messieurs, let us begin."

"You will excuse me, monsieur, for not dressing for the occasion," she said to her neighbor; "but I am more comfortable this way; and then I should have been afraid of spoiling my beautiful gown."

"You are enchanting in this costume, my little neighbor; I should have been terribly distressed if you had made your toilet.—Don't you agree with me, Monsieur Colinet? don't you think that Mademoiselle Georgette is very seductive in this charming négligé?"

Colinet was busy eating; however, he replied, shaking his head:

"I am used to seeing mamzelle like this! At home, we never dress up, except for the church festivals."

"Where is your home, Monsieur Colinet?"

The young man glanced at Georgette, who guessed that he had forgotten the name she had told him; so she replied for him:

"Belair, monsieur."

"Belair! I don't know of any town of that name in Normandie."

"It isn't a town; it's a village."

"Oh! if it's only a village, that makes a difference. Drink, Monsieur Colinet. Are you fond of wine?"

"Yes, monsieur; especially when it's as good as this."

"And then, you don't drink much of anything but cider in your province, I suppose?"

"Cider?"—And Colinet looked surprised; but Georgette kicked him, under the table, saying:

"Oh! no, you need have no fear," rejoined Monsieur de Mardeille; "natural wines never do any harm."

"Well! that's his business. But if you make him tipsy, he won't be able to start for home to-day."

This suggestion from Georgette checked the ex-dandy, who was about to fill the young man's glass, but reflected that it would be very foolish to prevent the old playfellow from going away from Paris.

The breakfast lasted a long while; Colinet succeeded in retaining his reason, while doing honor to the neighbor's wines. Georgette was careful to change the subject when Monsieur de Mardeille mentioned Normandie. When the clock struck one, the latter rose and said:

"I must go to the Bourse."

"And I," said Colinet, "must think about starting for home."

"A pleasant journey, Monsieur Colinet! We shall meet again, I hope."

"Oh, yes!" said Georgette; "you will certainly see him again."

When Monsieur de Mardeille had gone, Colinet said, with a sigh:

"He's luckier than I am, that man is; for he stays with you, and I am going to leave you again!"

"No, Colinet, he isn't luckier than you, for I love you, and I shall never have either love or friendship for that man."

"Ah! if that's so, you're right, I am luckier than he is! His breakfast was mighty good! But, for all that, I'd rather have nothing but potatoes, with nobody but you!"

"So would I, my friend."

"Are you going to begin your questions again, Colinet?"

"Oh! no, no! forgive me; I'm done."

"Then kiss me and go; and kiss my father and mother and sisters for me."

"Oh! never you fear; I won't fail."

Colinet kissed Georgette and went away, weeping as bitterly as on the previous occasion.

About five o'clock in the afternoon, Monsieur de Mardeille returned to Georgette's room, having seen her sitting at the window, alone.

"Well, so your young compatriot has gone?" he said, taking a seat by her side.

"Yes, monsieur, a long while ago; almost as soon as you went."

"That young man seems to be very fond of you."

"Yes; he's a true friend."

"But isn't he your lover?"

"I have told you, monsieur, that I have no lover; and I can add, without lying, that I have never had one."

"I believe you, my dear neighbor, I believe you; although it's a rare thing to find in Paris a girl of twenty—for you are twenty, are you not?"

"And six months, monsieur."

"I don't know, monsieur; one cannot tell what may happen."

"Bravo! very well answered!"

And Monsieur de Mardeille moved his chair nearer to Georgette's, and murmured:

"And suppose circumstances should bring you in contact with a man who adores you, whose happiness consists in making you happy,—like myself, for instance,—then would you yield to him?"

"But women are so weak!"

"Ah! fascinating girl, I am the happiest of men! you fill my cup to the brim!"

As he spoke, Monsieur de Mardeille extended his hand toward the little black petticoat; but Georgette quickly moved her chair away and struck him a smart blow on the fingers, saying in a very serious tone:

"Well! monsieur, what sort of manners are these? I have told you before that I did not like that!"

The ex-beau stamped on the floor in a rage, crying:

"Sapristi! mademoiselle, so you propose to make a fool of me to the end! You give me reason to hope that you will cease to be cruel, and then you forbid me the slightest liberty! What does it all mean? Where do we stand? I would like very much to know what to expect."

"I am not making a fool of you, monsieur; but what led you to think that I was about to yield to you already?"

"She immediately becomes the mistress of the man who gives them; is that it, monsieur?"

"Faith, yes! at least, that's the general rule."

"Well, monsieur, it isn't according to my ideas!"

"In that case, mademoiselle, what are your ideas, or rather your demands? for, really, I don't understand you."

"Look you, Monsieur de Mardeille, do you wish me to explain myself frankly? do you wish me to tell you what I have resolved upon?"

"Oh, yes! pray explain yourself! that will give me great pleasure! Speak! I am impatient to hear you."

"Listen to me, then, monsieur. If I, being touched and flattered by your present of a brooch, should yield to you to-day, as you claim that I ought to do, what would happen, monsieur? This: that when your love, or rather your caprice, was once satisfied—for, with most men of your stamp, this ardent love is only a caprice——"

"Oh! can you believe——"

"Oh! mademoiselle, you are imagining chimeras! You are romancing!"

"No, monsieur, I am not romancing; I am simply stating what is seen, what happens every day! And you yourself, monsieur, who claim that I am inventing chimeras, be frank, if such a thing is possible, and tell me if you never seduced and then abandoned a girl in the situation I have just sketched? Think over your life, your love affairs, your numerous conquests, and tell me, monsieur, if you are quite sure that such a thing never happened to you?"

Monsieur de Mardeille changed color; he rose, with a sullen expression on his face, and paced the floor, muttering:

"Mon Dieu! mademoiselle, my numerous conquests, my adventures, aren't in question here. I can't go over everything that has happened to me; it would take too long. Besides, I don't remember."

"Say, rather, that you don't choose to remember."

"In heaven's name, let us drop this and return to you. According to what you have said, if I understand you, you will not yield to anyone——"

The dandified neighbor made a horrible grimace, and continued to pace the floor, mumbling:

"The devil! the devil! you look ahead, mademoiselle; you take your precautions."

"Is that forbidden, monsieur?"

"No; but it's very uncommon—luckily. For you, love, sentiment, a man's attractions—everything that ordinarily captivates a young girl glides over your heart without stirring it. Sensibility is not your strong point."

"Do you think so? And are you yourself so very sensitive, monsieur?"

"I am—to your charms, most assuredly. But my love does not touch you; you are very cruel to me."

"I am less stupid than other women, that's all!"

"However, mademoiselle, if one must settle a fortune on you in order to obtain your favors, you must understand that everybody can't afford to indulge in such a passion."

"A fortune! Oh! no, monsieur, I am not so ambitious as all that; a fortune is not what I ask, but simply the means to bring up the child that is so often the result of a woman's fault."

"Ah! you have in mind only the result! But suppose there isn't any result?"

"Why, then it will be for the poor girl herself, who will at least be secure against want."

"Ah! it will be for the girl, if it isn't needed for the child! Very good! You think of everything! You would make an excellent cashier for a broker!"

"That is why women don't look to their needle to satisfy their coquetry."

"They have no choice, since they are forced to it."

"Nobody forces them to be coquettes."

"But you would be very sorry if they were not!"

Monsieur de Mardeille continued to pace the floor, humming between his teeth:

"'When one knows how to love and please, what other boon can one desire?'

No, no! that song isn't appropriate!—

'A bandage covers the eyes of the god that makes men love!'

That is nearer the truth.—

'Come, lady fair, I await thee, I await thee, I await thee!"

Georgette went on with her work, as if he were not there. When he was tired of singing, he went to the shirtmaker's side and said to her abruptly:

"What ought it to cost for a child's porridge?"

Georgette replied, with a smile:

"Seek and ye shall find."

"Ah! now you are quoting the Gospel at me! But Saint Peter was scoffing at us when he said that; for there's one thing that I have constantly sought and have never found. I won't tell you what it is, out of respect for your sex, but any man will guess my meaning. But I return to what I asked you just now. It seems to me that with two or three thousand francs one ought to be able to provide porridge in large quantities and for a long time!"

"That or something like it. A child eats so little!"

"But food isn't the only thing it needs. When it grows up, its education must be attended to, mustn't it? and then, it must be apprenticed and taught a trade. It must know how to earn its living, so that it can help its mother when the time comes."

"Oh! tra la la! there's no reason why you shouldn't go on! Why don't you ask me at once to buy a substitute for him if it's a boy, or to give her a dowry if it's a girl?"

"Why, that would be no more than right!"

"Didn't I tell you, mademoiselle, that you demanded a fortune?"

"No, monsieur, you exaggerate. For it seems to me—yes, let us suppose that there's a boy to be brought up—I am inclined to think that with twelve thousand francs it might be done."

"Twelve thousand francs!"—And Monsieur de Mardeille jumped so high that his head nearly struck the ceiling.—"Twelve thousand francs!" he repeated. "Do you think that that is nothing, mademoiselle?"

"I think that it is no more than is necessary to make a child into a man. Why, by putting that sum in the savings bank at once, one would have a little income, which would keep increasing. Oh! you may be sure, monsieur, that the mother would keep nothing for herself; but she would at least be at ease with respect to her child's future."

"And as she would use none of that little income for herself, she would still have to be supported, I suppose?"

"Oh! no, monsieur! That sum, once given, would be the whole; she would accept nothing more."

"The world is getting to be a curious place; it's a good school; one learns something every day!—But women are becoming sharper and sharper! We're nothing but children beside them! Twelve thousand francs! Why, not long ago, a man might have had more than a hundred mistresses with that money! I am not speaking for myself, for God knows I never ruined myself for women! I always triumphed without untying my purse strings. I prefer that way; at all events, I was sure that I was loved on my own account. They didn't offer to break the bargain!"

"Do you know, monsieur, that these reflections of yours are not very polite!" said Georgette, annoyed by his soliloquies.

"Why, mademoiselle, it seems to me that I might at least be permitted to complain!"

"No, monsieur, you may not. You criticise my conduct! But if I choose, monsieur, I should have to say but a word to make you blush for yours; to force you to lower your crest before me and ask my pardon for all your impertinence."

Monsieur de Mardeille stared at her and stammered:

"I don't understand a word of what you say, mademoiselle. If you would 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:

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?"

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:

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:

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?"

"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!"

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?"

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:

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!"

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.'"

"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."

"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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

"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."

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 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."

"As there is no performance at the Bouffes to-night, you have nothing to fear."

"Oh! but I am going to a concert to-night, at which Alboni is to sing."

"You stick to music, don't you?"

"It's my element."

"You know, Edward," laughed Dumarsey, "Lamberlong would have been able to reach high C, if his natural faculties had been cultivated. What a pity to have neglected them!"

"Is there any chance of catching the lost note, if we should take an express train?"

"You are pleased to jest, messieurs. None the less, it is true that a gentleman in the balcony at the Bouffes said to me not long ago: 'This is where you ought to be!'"

"In the balcony?"

"No; but at the Bouffes, with a salary of sixty thousand francs!"

"Had he heard your high C?"

"Yes; just as I left school."

"It can't be denied that there are some very fortunate mortals. There was a man who had heard Lamberlong's high C! And we poor devils might pay fabulous prices, yes, hire the whole auditorium of the Bouffes, and not hear it! It's heartrending!"

The red-haired young man rose impatiently, and began to inspect the pictures that adorned the salon.

"What do you hear that's new, messieurs?" said Edward, tying his cravat.

"Who is the woman most in vogue? Remember that I am just from Italy, messieurs, and that I am not at all posted as to what is going on in Paris."

"There are five or six in high favor; but you must have seen them, for you were at Saint-Phar the banker's great crush night before last."

"I saw nothing wonderful. If that's all you have to offer me, why——"

"There was a dazzling blonde at the Bouffes last night. She attracted every eye."

"Well! of course, you made inquiries about her, Lamberlong?"

"Yes; she's the wife of a rich Spaniard, who is taking her to Brazil."

"If he's taking her to Brazil, that's too far to follow her. But you must have had some romantic adventures in Italy, viscount? The women there are very revengeful, they say."

"No more so than in France! I saw two or three little stilettos glisten in the girdle or the garter, but I didn't feel the point of one."

"No great passions, then?"

"Nothing, nothing! it's maddening! Love is vanishing, messieurs."

"That isn't what says a young man who is always in the orchestra chairs at the Bouffes; he's in a fair way of dying of love for an actress; he won't say who she is."

"Oh! but one must be an habitué of the Bouffes to do that sort of thing!—A cigarette, Lépinette."

"Here is one, monsieur."

"How many do you smoke a day, Edward?"

"I don't know; I never counted them."

"I'll bet that it's two dozen!"

"Pardieu! all you have to do is to ask my valet; he can give you more accurate information than anyone else on that subject."

"Lépinette, how many cigarettes does your master smoke in a day—about?"

Lépinette reflected a moment, then replied:

"I have sometimes given monsieur le vicomte as many as sixty, messieurs; but it's never less than forty."

"Ha! ha! ha! that is magnificent! sixty cigarettes a day! You deserve a prize, Edward. We'll order a wreath of cigarettes for you!"

"Well, messieurs, what would you have? a man must do something; and when one has no other amusement——"

"Oh! viscount, you can't make us believe that you haven't some beauty to whom you are devoted."

"No, Florville, at this moment I love nobody. I am so utterly blasé on the subject of love! It is all over; my heart has lost the power of taking fire; the incendiary glances of my fair friends leave it as cold as ice. And then, when one knows women, one knows how much reliance may be placed on their oaths."

"Oh! there are exceptions," said Dumarsey. "I remember, Edward, when you had a pretty young girl for a mistress—I think you had abducted her, found her at a linen draper's. She came from Lorraine. She was almost a peasant, and you sophisticated her."

"Oh! yes, I remember! You mean Suzanne, don't you?"

"Suzanne, yes, that was what you called her. She seemed to be very fond of you."

"In other words, she loved me too much; it got to be insufferable. She was far too sentimental."

"What did I do with her? Faith, nothing! What do you expect a man to do with a girl of that sort, when she has once been his mistress, and he has had enough of her? I don't see that there's anything for him to do with her."

"Then you don't know what became of her?"

"No, indeed; and I should be very sorry to know. I had enough trouble to rid myself of the little one's importunities.—Give me a cigarette, Lépinette."

And the viscount, with a testy exclamation, threw on the floor the cigarette he had in his mouth, which he had smoked only a few seconds. Since the mention of the young woman named Suzanne, his brow had clouded, and his face had assumed an ill-humored expression. But young Lamberlong brought back a smile to his lips by exclaiming:

"Oh! mon Dieu! I have entirely forgotten what they give at the Bouffes to-morrow. Can you tell me, messieurs?"

"Oh! give us a moment's peace with your Bouffes, Lamberlong!—Can you understand, messieurs, how a man can attend every blessed performance at the Italiens, when he doesn't know a word of that language?"

"Who told you that I don't know a word of Italian? It's false; I understand it quite well."

"I never heard those words at the Bouffes."

Thereupon the dandy laughed heartily, and Florville exclaimed:

"Didn't you know that Dumarsey was talking Latin to you?"

"Latin! How do you suppose I could understand him, then? What do I know about Latin—a dead language! They don't sing in Latin at the Bouffes."

"Monsieur le vicomte's horse is saddled," said a little groom, putting his nose in at the door.

"All right!—Let us go, messieurs.—By the way, Lépinette, have you filled my pockets with cigarettes?"

"Yes, monsieur, I have put some everywhere, even in your fob."

"That's right.—To horse, messieurs!"

Two days after this riding party, Edward de Sommerston was in his smoking room, stretched out on a divan, smoking and intensely bored, as usual, and watching the puffs of smoke ascend and float about the room until they formed a fog so dense that one could hardly see from one side to the other. Suddenly the door was softly opened; Lépinette appeared, and, trying to distinguish his master through the clouds that filled the room, said in an undertone:

"What! No, I'm not asleep! I wish I were, but smoking never puts me to sleep! What do you want of me?"

"I came to tell monsieur that I have just made a find."

"A find! Have you found a treasure? So much the better for you; keep it!"

"Oh! monsieur, it isn't a treasure in money; it's something of another sort, which will be much more to monsieur's taste."

The viscount half rose, saying:

"What in the deuce is it?"

"It's a woman, monsieur; or rather, an enchanting girl!"

The viscount fell back on the couch, muttering:

"And you came here and disturbed me for that, did you? That's what you call a treasure!"

"I thought that monsieur would not be sorry to learn that there is in the house a young woman who is really deserving of a moment's attention."

"Aha! so this beauty lives in the house, does she?"

"Yes, monsieur. The concierge, who represents the owner, has several rooms at the top of the house which he furnishes neatly and rents on his own account."

"Oh, yes! his little perquisites; I understand. Well?"

"Well, it's one of those rooms that he has rented to Mademoiselle Georgette, an exceedingly virtuous person, so it seems, who rarely goes out and receives no visitors."

"Ah! very good! So it's a real model of virtue, is it? Did the concierge undertake to swear to that?"

"No, monsieur, the concierge didn't say positively that it was so; I simply repeat what I heard."

"And what does this chaste creature do?"

"How do you know? Have you bought something of the girl already?"

"No, monsieur; but the concierge showed me one that his new tenant made for a present to him; it is exceedingly pretty."

"The concierge smokes, does he?"

"Oh! like a porter, monsieur."

"Those knaves take every conceivable liberty!—Well! how does all this concern me?"

"I thought that monsieur might be curious to see the little one from upstairs."

"Just an ordinary face, I am sure; one of those affected little minxes—the grisette who wants to be followed; I know all about it."

"Oh, no! this one has no ordinary face. I will not say that she is precisely a beauty; that would not be true; but it is the whole aspect of her that attracts—and, above all, a figure so well set up—superb outlines—a shapely leg and such a tiny foot!"

"Really! has she all those things? You have examined her very closely, haven't you?"

"I was on the landing just now, monsieur, as she came upstairs, in a jacket and a short petticoat, both white; and the petticoat has an embroidered hem. Oh! she doesn't seem to be at all hard up! And she was humming between her teeth as she came up. I stood aside to let her pass; at that, she gave me a very pleasant bow; and as she was going on, I said: 'Are we to have the good fortune to have you for a neighbor, mademoiselle?'"

"When one has the honor of being in monsieur le vicomte's service, one should understand how to deal with the fair sex."

"That's not bad. Go on!"

"The young woman stopped, and answered very pleasantly: 'Yes, monsieur, I live in the house.'—Then she bowed again and went on upstairs."

"Is that all?"

"No, monsieur. As that meeting was very agreeable to me, I went out on the landing several times. It was a happy thought. A moment ago, the young woman came downstairs very fast."

"It seems to me that she spends a good deal of time on the stairs for a girl who never goes out!"

"She had forgotten to buy some coffee, monsieur; coffee is her passion, it seems; she can't do without it!"

"Did she tell you that?"

"Yes, monsieur; but she didn't stop; she went on downstairs. She'll probably come back very soon; if monsieur chooses, I will keep watch on the landing, and as soon as I see Mademoiselle Georgette in the hall below I will let him know."

"Nonsense! Do you suppose I am going to put myself out to see this grisette? You are crazy, Lépinette!"

"I would just like to have monsieur see her in her jacket and short petticoat; they're so becoming to her!"

"Pardieu! there's a very simple way for me to see this girl without disturbing myself. She embroiders cigar cases, you say? I'll order one of her. Go out and watch for her, and, when she comes, ask her to step into my apartment a moment. You may tell her why."

"If you don't see her pass, you may as well go up to her room; there's no need of standing on ceremony with a mere working girl."

"Very well, monsieur; if she has already come in, I will go up and do your errand."

Lépinette left the room, and Edward de Sommerston surrendered anew to the charms of the cigarette; but five minutes had not passed when the valet reappeared and said to him:

"The young person is here, monsieur."

"Whom do you mean?"

"The girl from upstairs who makes cigar cases."

"Oh! I had already forgotten your protégée. Well! show her in."

"Here, monsieur?"

"To be sure; you don't suppose I am going to put myself out to go into the salon to receive this grisette, do you?"

"Then I will show her in here."

The servant went out, returned in a moment, and announced: "Mademoiselle Georgette!"—And the Georgette with whom we are already acquainted, having seen her on Rue de Seine and Boulevard Beaumarchais, entered the smoking room in her morning costume; but this time there was something in the simple négligé that denoted more thought, more coquetry: the jacket was trimmed with lace, the white petticoat had an embroidered hem; and the hair was arranged according to the prevailing style; plainly, she realized that she was now in the Chaussée d'Antin.

Georgette advanced three steps and retreated two, crying:

Thereupon the viscount turned over on his couch, and said:

"So you don't like the smell of tobacco, my girl?"

"Hallo! there's someone here. But I can't see anything; it's like being in the clouds! Well! I won't stay here! I don't propose to have people think that I've been in barracks!"

And Georgette walked quickly from the smoking room, followed a corridor, opened the first door she saw, and found herself in a charming salon, where she paused a moment.

"This is better! one can at least see something here, and it isn't reeking with tobacco smoke!"

Meanwhile, the young man, surprised by his visitor's abrupt exit, rose from his couch, laughing, and saying to himself:

"This is a most amusing creature! But, after all, I couldn't have seen her here. Where in the devil has she gone! Let's look for her, let's play hide-and-seek; it will remind me of my boyhood!"

Passing from one room to another, the young dandy arrived at last in that one in which Mademoiselle Georgette had taken refuge; he discovered her seated in an easy-chair and turning the leaves of an album that lay on a table near by. The girl's utter lack of ceremony, and her perfect ease of manner in that elegant salon, astonished Edward, who gazed at her for several seconds, then said:

"It seems to amuse you to look at caricatures?"

Georgette rose and courtesied gracefully, as she replied:

"No, indeed! you have done nothing wrong, except running away from my smoking room, as if it were a bear's den."

"Faith! monsieur, I am not sure that I should not prefer a bear's den to a room where the smoke is so thick that you can't see, and makes your eyes smart and your head ache, to say nothing of the insufferable odor!"

While Georgette was speaking, Edward examined her from head to foot; and his examination was evidently favorable to her, for he muttered from time to time:

"Very good, on my word! very seductive! That devil of a Lépinette didn't deceive me!"

Then the viscount began to walk around the girl, who was standing in the middle of the salon; and he smiled as he observed the little white petticoat that outlined her hips so perfectly; until at last, vexed by this inspection, she exclaimed:

"Haven't you nearly finished staring at me, monsieur?"

"Why, you are exceedingly pleasant to look at!"

"Is that why you sent for me?"

"Well! suppose it were? My valet had praised your face and figure, and I wanted to see if he told the truth."

"If I had known that, I certainly would not have come into your apartment. Adieu, monsieur!"

"One moment, I pray! What a hurry you're in, Mademoiselle Georgette!—for Georgette is your name, I believe?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"From what part of the country do you come?"

"From Bordeaux, monsieur."

"From the South. I'd have bet on it."

"Because you seem to have a little head that is very quick to take offence."

"Oh! I have a very good head."

"Do you live alone upstairs?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"How many lovers have you, Mademoiselle Georgette?"

The girl stared at the viscount with an impertinent expression, and finally answered:

"I have none, monsieur."

"What! not one? not the least little bit of a one?"

"No, monsieur."

"That is very strange."

"What is there strange about it, monsieur? Do you think that a girl cannot remain virtuous, and live without a lover?"

"It seems to me to be very difficult, to say no more, in Paris."

"No more difficult in Paris than elsewhere; a woman always does just what she chooses."

"Oh! not always! There is the desire to please, the instinct of coquetry, which is inborn in woman. She wants to have pretty gowns, and she can't buy them with what she earns. She wants to wear silk dresses and cashmere shawls! You are fascinating in this déshabillé; still, you wouldn't go to Mabille's in such a costume."

"Oh! I have no desire to go to Mabille's."

"You don't mean what you say."

"Yes, I do, monsieur."

"No lover! what a phenomenon! Surely, with that figure, that dainty foot, you must have made many conquests?"

"And you have never listened to any man?"

"Never."

"Then you must have a lover in your province—some secret passion that fills your heart?"

"No, monsieur; I have no secret passion."

"In that case, I say again, you are a phenomenon, and I am very proud to have such a rarity for a neighbor. Are you afraid of loving, pray? afraid of love?"

"I! I am not afraid of anything."

"Ha! ha! ha! you are very amusing!"

"You think me amusing, monsieur? How lucky for me!"

"I think you provoking, alluring, fascinating!"

And the young man tried to take Georgette in his arms; but she quickly extricated herself and pushed him away, saying in a very decided tone:

"I don't like such manners, monsieur; and they will never succeed with me, I warn you."

"Pardon, mademoiselle, pardon! I forgot that I was dealing with a Lucretia."

"Is this all you have to say to me, monsieur?"

"Why, no; I wanted to order an embroidered cigar case; my servant tells me that you make lovely ones."