XVII A PARCEL

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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:

"Things can't go on like this! I try to divert my thoughts, and I can't do it! I pay court to other women, they welcome me with open arms, yet I don't go back to them! The image of that little Georgette is always before my eyes! I see her going back and forth in her chamber, in her jacket and short skirt. Her voluptuous shape turns my head! Decidedly I am mad over that girl. And after all, I should be a great fool to pine away with longing, when it is in my power to be that girl's happy lover! I know what it will cost me. But, still, twelve thousand francs won't ruin me; especially as she said in so many words that she would not ask for anything more after that. And there are women who ask all the time. You don't give them so much at one time, but it amounts to the same thing, indeed it costs more in the end!"

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:

"Not such a fool as you think!"

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?"

"Oh! the gentleman—the old bachelor, Monsieur Renardin, has been trying to send something else to our little neighbor. He ordered a superb Savoy biscuit. I don't know how Mademoiselle ArthÉmise found out about it, but she did. So then she did sentry duty in the concierge's lodge, and stopped the pastry cook's boy as he passed, got possession of the Savoy biscuit, hollowed it out, and put it on her head, so that she looked like a Turk. She went all over the house with the biscuit on her head, and waited on her master at dinner that way. He happened to have company, too!"

"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!"

"Yes, yes, let's see that!"

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?"

"It is so true, that to prove my love I have decided to submit to every sacrifice—which I never did before for any woman. But what would one not do to touch that bewitching petticoat, which always flies when I try to catch it! See, fascinating girl; take this wallet; it contains twelve thousand francs in banknotes! Will this put an end to your rigorous treatment of me?"

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:

"She put me off till to-morrow. I have an idea that, before yielding to me, she wanted to know by count if there really was the amount I mentioned in the wallet. She's a cautious damsel; she won't allow herself to be caught very easily! But what difference does it make to me? She will find that I haven't deceived her; and this time she will keep her promise, I am sure."

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!"

"Closed!" repeated Monsieur de Mardeille, with a smile. "Oh! I remember; that's what I asked her to do, yesterday; that proves that she is expecting me. Stupid of me to sleep so late!—Come, Frontin, be quick about my hair."

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.'"

"Went away last night? Nonsense! you don't know what you're saying; you misunderstood! Went away! where did she go?"

"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."

The concierge entered his tenant's apartment, bringing a rather large parcel, carefully wrapped in paper; he carried it on his outstretched arms, as if he were delivering the keys of a city on a salver, and handed it to Monsieur de Mardeille, who looked at it, scrutinized it, and at once said to himself:

"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."

"Then it's probably a cheese that she had sent to her from her province."

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.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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