On the day following the gift of the brooch, Monsieur de Mardeille, buoyed up by the sweetest hopes, left his couch with this thought in his mind:

"I will make a careful toilet, but I won't go to see my young friend too early; I must let her wish for my coming. After breakfast I will go to my window, and I am sure that Georgette will beckon me to come to her. Yes, that is the more adroit way."

Monsieur de Mardeille breakfasted slowly; he enjoyed his coffee as, in anticipation, he enjoyed his coming triumph; at last, after glancing over several newspapers, he went to one of the windows looking on the courtyard, thinking that he had given her time enough to wish for his coming and that he would do well to show himself.

On opening his window he looked at once toward his little neighbor's, and saw a young man seated beside Georgette, holding both her hands and gazing at her most affectionately. Thereupon our gallant frowned, compressed his lips, and stared in dismay.

"Sapristi!" he exclaimed; "with a young man! She's with a young man, and she pretends to receive visits from no man but me! And this is her gratitude for my brooch! Ah! we'll see about this! I won't allow myself to be fooled in this way! I must find out who this young man is who holds both her hands, when I can hardly induce her to let me hold one."

The man whom he had discovered in his neighbor's apartment was young Colinet, whom we already know. His dress was almost exactly the same as he had worn on the occasion of his first visit to Georgette, except that his broadcloth trousers were replaced by linen ones, and that he carried a light switch instead of his stout stick. A much greater change had taken place on his face, however; in the intervening three months, his innocent, shy air had given place to one more sedate and thoughtful; it was still frank and open, but the artless expression had disappeared.

"Oh! how glad I am to see you, Mamzelle Georgette!" said Colinet, taking the girl's hands.

"And I to see you, Colinet! It makes me very happy, I can tell you! And you say that everybody at home is well—my father and mother and sisters?"

"Yes, mamzelle, I left them all in good health; and here's a letter that Mamzelle Suzanne, your second sister, gave me for you."

"Oh! give it to me, give it to me quick, Colinet!"

Georgette eagerly seized the letter that the young man had brought her; she broke the seal and read it to herself inaudibly; the expression of her face betrayed her deep interest in its contents. While Georgette was reading, Colinet looked about, apparently making an inspection of the room.

"It's very nice here," he muttered; "much finer than it was in the other place."

Having finished reading the letter, Georgette put it in her bosom, then smiled anew at Colinet, who said:

"Will that letter bring you back to the province?"

"Not yet, Colinet."

"Do you still enjoy yourself more in Paris?"

"It is not that, my friend; but I came here for a certain purpose; and I shall not leave Paris until I have finished what I have begun."

"Ah! you're doing some work here, are you?"

"Yes, my friend."

"And you won't tell me what it is? Perhaps I could help you."

"No, you couldn't help me; and it's better that I shouldn't tell you now what I am trying to do; but you shall know some day; yes, I promise you that some day you shall know everything; and you won't blame me, Colinet; on the contrary, I am sure that you will approve of what I have done."

"Oh! Mamzelle Georgette, I shan't blame you; for I know you, I do, and I know that you ain't capable of doing anything wrong. But, dear me! your head's a little—what do they call it down home?—a little solid; and when you've made up your mind to do something, why, you've got to do it."

"Mayn't one have a strong will, as long as it doesn't lead one to do wrong?"

"Yes, yes! Oh! you can have anything; but you used to thou me, and now I'm sorry to find that you've stopped doing it."

Georgette blushed as she replied:

"That is true, Colinet; but it ought not to hurt your feelings—far from it—for I don't like you any the less on that account. But it seems to me that I ought not to speak to you so familiarly as I used to when we were children."

"If you like me just as much, I ought not to complain; but I love you more and more every day, Georgette."

"Oh! so much the better! that's just what I want! Above all things, don't you ever change; for I count on your love, Colinet!"

"Oh! Mamzelle Georgette, can a man ever change when he loves you?"

"Kiss me, Colinet."

"With all my heart!"

The opposite neighbor did not see the kiss, because all this had taken place before he went to the window.

"What about that Monsieur Dupont I saw in your room so often when I was here before?" queried Colinet; "do you still see him?"

"No, Colinet, I don't see Monsieur Dupont any more."

The young man smiled. He seemed delighted to hear that; but his brow grew dark when Georgette added:

"No, I never see him now, but I do see another man."

"Ah! you have made the acquaintance of another man?"

"Yes, a very stylish gentleman who lives in this house; he comes to see me very often."

"Very often?"

"You'll probably see him very soon. Then, as I shall tell him, which is perfectly true, that you are an old playfellow of mine, don't forget that I am supposed to be a Norman."

"A Norman! But that isn't true; you are from Toul, in Lorraine."

"I know that very well, Colinet; but that is just what this gentleman mustn't find out; and, above all things, don't mention my parents' name before him—remember that."

"Why on earth do you make all this mystery with this man? You haven't ever done anything wrong, I know; so why do you conceal your family name, mamzelle?"

"You told me that you had confidence in me, Colinet."

"To be sure—I have it still."

"In that case, my friend, don't ask me questions that I can't answer now. I have told you that it will all be explained some day, and that ought to be enough for you."

"That's true, mamzelle; I was wrong to ask you questions; I won't say any more about it.—So you're a Norman, are you?"

"Yes; from a little village near Rouen."

"What's the name of the village?"

"The name? I haven't an idea; what difference does it make? any name will do. That man doesn't know all the suburbs of Rouen. Call it Belair—there are Belairs in every province."

"All right; and I'm a Norman, too, I suppose?"

"Of course."

"And may I still raise calves?"

"Why not? cattle are raised everywhere. Hush! I hear my neighbor coming upstairs."

Monsieur de Mardeille had crossed the courtyard like a rocket; he ran up the stairs without stopping for breath, entered Georgette's room like a shot out of a catapult, and, without even acknowledging the salutation of Colinet, who rose as he entered, he took his stand in front of the young woman and exclaimed in a hoarse voice:

"It is I, mademoiselle!"

"So I see, monsieur," replied Georgette, with a smile.

"You didn't expect me—that is to say, not at this moment, I fancy."

"Why not, pray, monsieur? I never expect you. You come when you please; neighbors don't stand on ceremony."

"Yes—but I thought—I didn't expect to find you with company, as you said you never received anybody but me."

The girl's face became grave and stern; she looked at Monsieur de Mardeille with a wrathful expression, exclaiming:

"Let me tell you, monsieur, that I consider that what you have just said is in the worst possible taste. If, up to the present time, it has suited me to receive no other visits than yours, you may be perfectly sure that it hasn't been from any desire to be agreeable to you."

"Mademoiselle, I——"

"Upon my word, to hear you, anyone would think that I am dependent on you, that you have some claim over me! You make me blush for you, monsieur!"

The ex-beau turned as red as a gobbler; he shuffled his feet about and tore his gloves, but did not know what to reply.

"To-day," continued Georgette, "my old playfellow, the friend of my childhood, who has just come from our province to bring me news of my relatives, has called on me. He will always be welcome in my home. I was about to introduce him to you, monsieur, when you began to say such nonsensical things! You were not polite enough to acknowledge the bow my friend Colinet gave you when you came in. You know so well what is customary and proper, monsieur, that you will allow me to believe that you are not in your ordinary frame of mind this morning, and that something has happened to upset you.—Sit down again, Colinet, my friend."

Monsieur de Mardeille did not know where he was; Georgette's haughty glance had rooted him to the floor. At last, he turned to Colinet and made him a low bow; then he concluded to take a chair, muttering, as he did so:

"Yes, it is true, I have a sick headache this morning, a very bad one; it makes me feel wretched."

"All right! tell us that, and we will excuse you for being in an ill humor.—Colinet, my friend, are you in Paris for long?"

"Oh! no, Mamzelle Georgette; I can only stay one day; I must go back to-morrow afternoon."

The neighbor's face became amiable once more; he straightened himself up in his chair.

"What makes you in such a hurry, Colinet?"

"I have several places to stop at on my way back—to collect the price of cattle we've sold."

"Monsieur is a cattle raiser?" Mardeille inquired.

"Yes, monsieur; I deal in horned cattle mostly, because there's always a market for them."

"Yes, yes, it's an excellent business," said Monsieur de Mardeille.—Then he leaned toward Georgette and said to her, almost timidly:

"You're not wearing your brooch?"

"Well, I should think not—with my jacket!" laughed Georgette. "Is it customary to put on a brooch so early in the morning?"

"Have you got a chicken to roast?"[G] queried Colinet. "I'll help you, if you want; I know all about chickens."

Georgette laughed aloud, and Monsieur de Mardeille tried to do the same; but his laughter was not sincere.

"We're not talking about chickens, my dear Colinet, nor of the kind of broche you have in mind," said the young shirtmaker, when her merriment had somewhat abated. "Oh! I don't live so magnificently as that; my repasts are more modest. Still, my friend, if you will breakfast with me to-morrow, before you go away, I will have a sausage and a meat pie; with those and a good appetite, one can breakfast perfectly—isn't that so?"

"To be sure, mamzelle; I won't fail to be here."

"If Monsieur de Mardeille would like to join us, and doesn't consider our breakfast unworthy of him, he would give us great pleasure by accepting my invitation."

Our dandy's face became radiant. He bowed and said:

"Unworthy of me! A repast over which you preside! Why, on the contrary, it will seem delicious to me, and I accept your kind invitation with all my heart. But I will ask your permission to bring a few bottles of wine from my cellar; that will do no harm."

"Oh! bring whatever you choose; we are not proud; we accept whatever anyone offers us."

"In that case, my charming neighbor, it's a bargain; I will breakfast with you to-morrow. Meanwhile, I will leave you, for you may have a thousand messages to give monsieur for your relations and friends, commissions to intrust to him, and I should be very sorry to incommode you. Au revoir, my dear neighbor!—Bonjour, monsieur, until to-morrow!—At what hour do you breakfast, neighbor?"

"At ten o'clock, monsieur."

"Very good; I will be on time."

And the ex-beau retired, as well pleased as he had been furious when he arrived; a few words from Georgette had sufficed to effect this revolution in his humor; to be sure, she had a way of saying them which precluded the possibility of a reply.

After Monsieur de Mardeille had gone, Colinet seemed to be reflecting profoundly, and Georgette asked him:

"What are you thinking about, my friend?"

"About that gentleman who was here just now. How he spoke to you when he came in!"

"And you heard how I answered him."

"Oh! that did my heart good! Is that old beau making love to you?"

"Yes; but don't be alarmed, Colinet; he's no more dangerous to me than Monsieur Dupont was."

"I believe you, as you say so. But what made you ask him to breakfast with us to-morrow? I should have liked it better to be with you alone."

"And so should I, my friend; but I did what I thought it best to do, for I don't want to break with my neighbor yet, and that is what would have happened if I hadn't invited him. I am going to answer my sister Suzanne's letter now, and then write to AimÉe. I'll give you the letters to-morrow."

"Then, I'll go out and do some errands; for you know how it is in the country: when anyone comes to Paris, people try to see who can give him the most errands to do. I promised to dine with some friends; so I shan't see you again till to-morrow."

"Come early, then, so that we can have time to talk a little before breakfast."

"Yes, Mamzelle Georgette. Oh! what a pity that we two aren't going to breakfast all alone together!"

"A time will come, Colinet, when we two shall often be alone; but perhaps you won't be so anxious for it then."

"Ah! Georgette! you don't think that!"

The girl's only reply was to hold out her hand to her old playfellow. He squeezed it, then covered it with kisses; and Georgette was obliged to remind him of all his commissions before he could make up his mind to leave her.