Monsieur de Mardeille did not close his eyes that night. He was terribly vexed, and he awaited the morrow with extreme impatience, in order to have an explanation with the little shirtmaker, whom he proposed to reproach in no measured terms. He firmly believed himself to be in the right, because he maintained that in love one gives nothing without some equivalent.

At last the morning came; people began to stir in the house. Our dandy rose and looked at himself in the mirror. He found that he was horribly pale, that his eyes were red, and that he had a worn, jaded look. As he desired, before all else, to be handsome and fascinating, he passed more than an hour at his toilet, changing his cravat and waistcoat again and again; but he did not succeed in restoring his usual freshness of aspect. At last, weary of the struggle, he said to himself:

"A little pallor makes one more interesting; women like a melancholy air. That cruel girl will be touched by my evident suffering. Decidedly, it is much better for me to be pale; it gives me the advantage at the outset."

He betook himself to his little neighbor's apartment, crossing the courtyard as rapidly as possible to avoid the glances of the other tenants. This time the door was unlocked. Monsieur de Mardeille unceremoniously entered Georgette's room and found her already at work. She looked up at him with a sly smile, and said:

"Good-morning, monsieur! it's very good of you to come to see me. Pray sit down, and we will talk about the play."

But Monsieur de Mardeille did not sit down; he paced the floor excitedly, and rejoined in an angry tone:

"I didn't come here to talk about the play, mademoiselle!"

"Indeed? Very well, then we'll talk about something else."

"Mademoiselle—you sleep very soundly!"

"I? Oh! you are mistaken, monsieur; on the contrary, my sleep is very light; the slightest noise wakes me."

"The slightest noise? How did it happen, then, that you didn't hear the noise I made last night, when I knocked on your door for half an hour, and you did not deign to reply?"

"Last night? Why, I heard you distinctly, monsieur; much too distinctly, in fact!"

"Then, mademoiselle, why didn't you let me in?"

"Why? Because I didn't choose to; because I don't receive visits at midnight; because I considered the uproar you made at my door most unseemly!"

"Uproar? But if you had opened your door at once, I wouldn't have made any uproar!"

"True; but as I didn't choose to open it, you shouldn't have kept on knocking."

"Why, mademoiselle, it seems to me that I had the right to come to your room, that I might fairly expect to be admitted! When a woman accepts gifts from a man, it means that she consents—at all events, she shouldn't leave him at the door when he comes to see her."

"The right! the right!" cried Georgette, rising, and casting such an angry glance at Monsieur de Mardeille that he was thoroughly abashed. "Let me tell you, monsieur, that you are most impertinent, and that I ought to turn you out of my room at once and forbid you ever to put your foot inside my door again. The right! What do you mean, monsieur? Is it because you have sent me a few paltry rags that you presume to speak to me in this tone? Understand, monsieur, that I did you much honor by receiving your superb gifts! If you had not wanted to go out with me, you wouldn't have given them to me, I presume. So that you did it much more to gratify your own vanity than to please me. And monsieur imagines that, because of those gifts, I will open my door to him at midnight! and perhaps give myself to him and esteem myself too happy to be his mistress!—Why, you are mad, monsieur! Here are your presents. I don't want them; you may take them back! Look, this will show you how much I care for them!"

As she spoke, Georgette ran to her closet, took down the gown, shawl, and bonnet, threw them on the floor, and kicked them toward Monsieur de Mardeille, who was horrified and dared not move.

Having done this, the girl returned to her chair by the window, which was open as usual, and resumed her work, paying no further heed to her neighbor, who stood in the same spot as motionless as a statue.

Several minutes passed thus. The ex-beau had had time to reflect. He began by picking up the gown, the shawl, and the bonnet, and laid them all carefully on a table; then he went to Georgette and stammered confusedly:

"Mademoiselle—I was wrong—I was very wrong—I admit it!"

"It's very fortunate that you realize it, monsieur!"

"I should not have believed—or rather, I should not have hoped—— Certainly I do not attach any value to these gewgaws that I sent you; it wasn't on account of them that I knocked at your door last night; but I thought that you were touched by my passion for you, that you no longer doubted it—that was what led me to come here and knock last night, after the theatre. Forgive me, I beseech you, my dear neighbor; don't be angry with me; it would make me too unhappy."

"As you admit your wrongdoing," Georgette answered, with a smile, "I forgive you. Oh! I am not one who bears malice! I say at once what I have on my heart; then it's all over and I think no more about it."

The old beau took the girl's hand and respectfully put it to his lips. She withdrew it and pointed to a chair, saying:

"Now sit down, and let us talk about something else."

"Something else!" murmured Monsieur de Mardeille as he sat down. "When I am with you, it is hard for me to refrain from telling you of my love. Does it make you angry?"

"No; but have you forgotten what I said to you?"

"Faith! it's quite possible, my dear neighbor; what did you say to me on that subject?"

"I told you that I did not believe in any man's love until he had given me proofs of it."

Her neighbor frowned, and faltered:

"Ah! yes—to be sure—I remember now—proofs. But I don't feel quite sure what you mean by that."

"Oh! monsieur, I should consider that I insulted you if I explained my meaning any further!" retorted Georgette, satirically. "If you don't understand me, so much the worse for you!"

"Did you enjoy the play last night?" hastily inquired Monsieur de Mardeille, anxious to change the subject.

"Yes, monsieur, very much. I would go very often, if I had the means."

"But if someone takes you, it's the same thing, isn't it?"

"No, monsieur; it isn't the same thing to be able to give one's self pleasure when one chooses, as to take it only when it pleases others to offer it."

"At all events, my pretty neighbor, when it is your pleasure to go again, I shall be at your service and delighted to escort you."

"You are too kind, monsieur.—Did you notice that lady in pink who was in a box on the stage last night?"

"In a proscenium box, do you mean?"

"I don't know whether you call it a proscenium box, but the lady I mean had a sort of crown of flowers on her head—and she was very pretty, too."

"Oh! yes, I remember—a lovely blonde. That was Irma, one of the women most in vogue at this moment."

"Do you know her?"

"Oh! as one knows a great many of the women one meets at all the balls at the Casino, at all the first performances—in short, at all the functions to which one can gain admission by paying for it."

"Is she married?"

"Married? the deuce! never!—As if those creatures ever married! She's a kept woman, that's the whole story."

"Ah! she's a kept woman. At all events, she is kept handsomely. She had a magnificent diamond necklace and brooch. For they were diamonds, weren't they, monsieur?"

"They were—or, at all events, they looked like it; but they may have been false. Nowadays, they make false gems that resemble real ones so closely that it's very hard to distinguish them. They're quite as handsome; indeed, they are often more effective, on account of the way they're mounted."

"False diamonds! how horrible! I should never be willing to wear anything false, myself!"

Monsieur de Mardeille looked at his watch, then rose, and said:

"How the time flies with you, charming Georgette! But I have some business at my broker's, and I have only just time to go there. So, au revoir, my lovely neighbor! You are not angry any longer, are you?"

"No, monsieur, no; I have entirely forgotten the past."

The ex-beau bowed and left her, saying to himself:

"She has forgotten the past! Therefore she has entirely forgotten that I gave her a complete toilette. She looks upon that as such a trifling matter! And now she's beginning to talk about diamonds! Oh! that is going too far! The little one has extravagant ideas! I wonder if she would like me to keep her like Irma? It's incredible! a shirtmaker wanting diamonds! The deuce! I didn't expect to encounter so many obstacles with a grisette; it never happened to me before! She talked with self-assurance! She's no fool, that's clear! And the worst of it is that, when she gets excited, her eyes have such fire and expression! She is enchanting! She's a little demon! But give her diamonds! never! never! I'd rather eat them!"

Several weeks passed. Monsieur de Mardeille continued his visits in the daytime to Georgette, who always had her windows open, whatever the weather. But he did not make the slightest progress in his love affair. When he tried to move nearer to the girl, she compelled him to remove his chair; if he tried to take her hand, she withdrew it; if he tried to place his hand on the little skirt, at which he gazed with covetous eyes, she pushed him away roughly, and exclaimed in her sternest tone:

"I won't have you touch my skirt; that is forbidden!"

Thereupon our gallant heaved profound sighs, to which she replied by laughing heartily, and by mischievous glances which made her prettier than ever; for, while confining her neighbor strictly within the limits of respect, Mademoiselle Georgette did not hesitate to employ all the little coquettish arts that make a man more enamored than ever and put the finishing touch to his distraction.

The result was that one day, on leaving Georgette, who had done nothing but walk about the room in her simple morning costume, Monsieur de Mardeille exclaimed:

"Well! I can't do anything else! I'll send her a little brooch—in diamonds—rose ones—something not too expensive; and yet it must be pretty; for if it isn't, I know her well enough to know that she is quite capable of making a fool of me again. Oh! these women! to think that I never spent a sou on them! And this little hussy has made me depart from my custom, and now I'm as big a fool as other men."

The next day, when he presented himself at his neighbor's door, Monsieur de Mardeille was amiable and lively and in high spirits; one would have taken him for a boy of twenty. Having taken a seat beside Georgette, he took a little pasteboard box from his pocket and handed it to her, saying:

"Allow me, my charming friend, to offer you this token, this proof, of my affection; and be assured that in offering it to you I do not consider that it gives me the slightest claim to your love; I desire to owe that to your heart alone."

"Good! that is very well said," replied Georgette, hastily opening the box, in which she found a little brooch, worth eight or nine hundred francs, and very effective.

"Oh! this is most gallant of you!" she cried. "Really, monsieur, you are coming on!"

"What's that? I am coming on?" thought Mardeille; "what does she mean by that? No matter! I won't ask any questions. This will touch her, and I am sure that to-morrow she will be the one to say: 'I expect you to-night.'"

"This is a lovely brooch," said Georgette.

"And you will deign to accept it?"

"Will I accept it? Most assuredly, monsieur, and I am very grateful to you."

"She is grateful for it; that's good!" said our seducer to himself; "the rest will go of itself. I won't commit the blunder of seeking payment now for my present; I'll go away, that will be more adroit.—I am obliged to leave you, my dear neighbor," he said, rising.

"Already, monsieur?"

"That word is very pleasant in your mouth!—Yes—I have some urgent business to attend to. I leave you so soon with the greatest regret, but to-morrow, I hope, I shall be more fortunate."

"I hope so, too, monsieur."

Mardeille bowed most respectfully to the young woman; without even taking her hand. He took his leave, enchanted with what he had done.

"I have taken the right way," he thought. "Women are stubborn, as a general rule; to refrain from asking them for anything is enough to induce them to grant you everything. The little one is mine now!"