The reader will remember that Monsieur Renardin, one of Georgette's neighbors, who had a maid of all work, had purchased a box of candied fruit and had employed a little bootblack to deliver it to Georgette, and had told him that she lived on the entresol at the rear of the courtyard.

But the young fellow, who was a messenger as well as a bootblack, was a child of Auvergne, and had just as much intelligence as he required to black boots or to carry a pail of water; almost all water carriers are Auvergnats. He put the box of candied fruit under his arm; it was carefully wrapped in white paper and tied with pink ribbon. He entered the designated house, and, passing the concierge's door with his head in the air, started across the courtyard; but the concierge, who had seen him pass, ran out of his lodge and stopped him, saying:

"Where in the devil are you going, you young scamp? What do you mean by marching by my door without a word? That's no way to go into a house, do you hear, Savoyard?"

"I ain't no Savoyard, I'm an Auvergnat."

"Savoyard or Auvergnat! I don't care which, they're the same thing! Where are you going, I say?"

"I'm not speaking to you! I'm going straight ahead."

"I see that you don't speak to me; but I speak to you; I'm the concierge, and I have a right to question you, and you must answer."

"I'm not to speak to the concierge, that's my orders. I'm going straight ahead."

"What an obstinate little beggar! I tell you, you shan't pass till I know where you're going!"

"But I tell you I'm going straight ahead to take this box."

"Where?"

"I won't tell you."

"I'll make you tell me! What's in the box? explosive stuff, perhaps? If you won't answer, I'll take you and your box before the magistrate."

The concierge seized the boy's arm; he struggled and wept, and shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Let me be—you big thief! Monsieur Renardin, your neighbor, sent me here, and I'll tell him that you wouldn't let me do my errand!"

Mademoiselle ArthÉmise, the old bachelor's servant, crossed the courtyard at that moment. Hearing her master's name, she stopped short, then ran to the messenger.

"Monsieur Renardin!" she cried; "who wants Monsieur Renardin? This little fellow?—What do you want of him?"

"Why, no, he doesn't want him; he says that he comes here from him," said the concierge; "if the little donkey had only said that at first, I'd have let him pass."

"From him—he comes from him? Then it's me he wants. Monsieur Renardin must have sent him to me. What do you want of me, my boy?"

The little Auvergnat looked at Mademoiselle ArthÉmise, who was a strapping, red-faced wench of about thirty, with stray hairs on her chin and upper lip that made her look like a man disguised as a woman.

"Be you Mademoiselle Georgette?" he asked.

"Mademoiselle Georgette!" replied the stout servant, with a savage glare. "Yes, yes, that's me."

"And you live in the entresol yonder?"

"Yes, yes, it's me, I tell you! Did Monsieur Renardin send you to bring that box to Mademoiselle Georgette, on the entresol?"

"Yes; it's from your neighbor, with all his compliments, mademoiselle."

"Ah! we'll just look and see what he sends to that hussy!"

And Mademoiselle ArthÉmise seized the box and was beginning to tear off the wrapper, when the concierge called to her:

"I beg your pardon, mademoiselle; you take that box when you know perfectly well it isn't for you."

"What business is it of yours? What do you want to meddle in it for, you low-lived porter? Does the shirtmaker pay you to look after her lovers' presents?"

"No, mademoiselle, the shirtmaker doesn't pay me, but I'm bound to do my duty; if that Auvergnat Savoyard had said what he wanted, I'd have let him pass and carry to Mademoiselle Georgette what he had for her."

"Oh, yes! everybody knows that you look after the lovers; that's your business, you know."

"My business is to see that the tenants get what's addressed to them. Give me that box, which isn't for you."

"Not if I know it! Candied fruits! apricots! Look at this, will you! He gives candied fruits to that slut, and he says there's no need of my putting mushrooms in the chicken fricassee! that I spend too much money! that I ain't economical! Just wait! just wait! I'll give you candied prunes and cherries packed in straw!"

"But I tell you again to give me that box, Mademoiselle ArthÉmise; you are not Mademoiselle Georgette!"

The little Auvergnat, who was just beginning to understand that he had made a botch of his errand, interposed at that point.

"What! ain't you the lady on the entresol?" he asked.

"Bah! hold your tongue, you brat, it's none of your business! Here, here's an orange; put that down and show me your heels!"

And Mademoiselle ArthÉmise stuffed a piece of candied orange into the bootblack's mouth. He accepted and ate it; but he was none the less determined to recover the box. He tried to take it away from Monsieur Renardin's maid, and the concierge seconded his efforts. But the stout ArthÉmise was a muscular wench, able to contend with more formidable antagonists. She began by throwing a slice of quince in the boy's face; then she planted a candied apricot on the concierge's left eye, whereat he cried out like an ass whose eye has been put out; then she dealt blows indiscriminately to right and left.

It was the outcries of the concierge and the little Auvergnat, blended with roars of laughter from Mademoiselle ArthÉmise, that had brought all the tenants to their windows. To add to the uproar, Monsieur Renardin appeared at that moment, uneasy because his messenger had not returned, and curious to know how the pretty shirtmaker had received his gift.

The bachelor was horrified when he saw the little Auvergnat on all fours, looking for the piece of quince, which had fallen to the ground; the concierge yelling and cursing as he removed the apricot from his eye, piece by piece; and lastly, the maid of all work, stuffing herself with candied fruit and saying:

"It's mighty good, all the same! I never tasted it before, but I'll make him give me some now."

"What does this mean, ArthÉmise? What are you doing here in the courtyard, instead of attending to your dinner?" inquired Monsieur Renardin, with a frown.

"My dinner! Deuce take the dinner! it can take care of itself. I'm having a treat, I am! I'm eating candied cherries and pears! I say, monsieur, when you go about it, you send nice presents to young ladies! But you'd better choose a page who ain't quite so stupid as this one; he took me for the hussy of the entresol. Oh, my! I didn't say anything; I just took the box."

"What's that? you little rascal! is this the way you do errands?"

"No, monsieur; it wasn't my fault. Why wouldn't the concierge let me in?"

"I did my duty; this Savoyard's a fool, and I was just going to send him to the entresol when Mademoiselle ArthÉmise told him she was Mademoiselle Georgette, and that the box was for her."

"What, ArthÉmise! you dared——"

"Hoity-toity! why should I have hesitated? This little brat brings a box from you—of course, I thought it was for me. As if I could suppose that a man of your age would pay court to young girls! that he'd lay out money for the first pert-faced minx that perches in the house! that he'd send boxes of candied fruit to a new-comer, a shirtmaker, when he growls every day because, as he says, I put too much butter in a sauce that——"

"Enough, mademoiselle! that will do; come with me, and we will have an explanation upstairs. I don't choose to have the whole house know what goes on in my establishment."

And Monsieur Renardin walked hastily toward the stairs, not daring to look at the windows of the entresol. Mademoiselle ArthÉmise followed her master, making faces behind his back; she still had the box of candied fruit in her hand, and she called out to the concierge, laughing in his face:

"I don't care a snap of my finger! I always get the good things. As for monsieur, as he don't like bread soup, he can make up his mind to eat nothing else for a week!"

"If my eye is injured, mademoiselle," said the concierge, "you'll have to pay the doctor!"

"Count on it, my dear man; apply to Monsieur Renardin; he's the cause of it all! He's an old rake, and nothing else!"

Georgette had overheard all this from her room, and it had amused her immensely. Monsieur Frontin, who was on the landing, had stopped there, in order not to lose a word of the altercation and to be able to report it faithfully to his master. When there was no one left in the courtyard, the little Auvergnat having decamped after picking up the piece of quince, the valet returned to the front building and to his master's apartment. He began by attempting to tell him what had just taken place in the courtyard; but Monsieur de Mardeille interrupted him:

"I know all about that; I was at my window. I know that Monsieur Renardin sent a box of candied fruit to the little shirtmaker, and that ArthÉmise, his maid, got possession of the box and ate what was in it. That ArthÉmise is a bad one, and her master ought to discharge her at once. But when a man submits to be domineered over by his servant, he deserves to have her make a fool of him. However, that doesn't interest me much; this Monsieur Renardin is not a rival to worry about. You have been to see the little one? Well! She was flattered, enchanted by my proposition, of course? When is she coming?"

Frontin drew himself up, assumed a solemn expression, and replied:

"Mademoiselle Georgette did not seem at all flattered by monsieur's proposition; on the contrary, she put on an air—well, an air as if she was a great swell!"

"Cut it short, Frontin!"

"Well, monsieur, this shirtmaker doesn't choose to measure you for shirts; do you understand that?"

"I understand that you're an idiot, if that's the way you did my errand! I never said a word to you about taking my measure!"

"But I supposed that was necessary, monsieur. When a tailor makes you a coat, he takes your measure first."

"Enough! What did the girl say? She didn't refuse without giving any reasons, did she?"

"She thought it was strange, monsieur, that you are not married. She said: 'Oh! if your master was married, if he had a wife, that would make a difference; I'd go and measure him right away; but I don't go to see bachelors. If he chooses to come to my rooms, I will receive him.'"

"Aha! she wants me to go to her! You ought to have begun by telling me that, you clown! I understand—that flatters my young lady's vanity! These girls have so much self-esteem! She wants the whole house to know that Monsieur de Mardeille is paying court to her! Well, I don't care, after all; I will go; but I will go in the evening, because the neighbors aren't at their windows after dark."