It was, in fact, Georgette, dressed in good taste, but very simply, and wearing one of the skirts then in fashion, which transformed a woman into a sugar loaf. She was arm in arm with Colinet, who had entirely laid aside his artless, timid manner.

Georgette and her escort walked up to the three gentlemen, and the young woman bowed pleasantly to them, saying:

"Excuse me, messieurs, for having kept you waiting. It was our driver's fault, for his horses hardly crawled. Allow me, first of all, to present my husband, Monsieur Colinet."

Colinet gravely saluted the three men, who returned his salutation.

"Did she send for us to introduce her husband?" they said to themselves. "That was hardly worth while!"

"I asked you to meet me in this garden, messieurs," continued Georgette, "because I know that there are paths here where very few people pass, and where we can talk as if we were at home. I see one on the other side of these flower beds, where we shall be very comfortable; will you have the kindness to go there with me?"

The three gentlemen bowed, and the whole party walked to a path, usually quite deserted, where there were benches. Georgette and her husband having seated themselves, the others did the same, and the little groom stood at some distance. Then the young woman turned to Messieurs de Sommerston and de Mardeille, and addressed them thus:

"A few words will suffice to inform you why I acted as I did with respect to you. In the first place, messieurs, I am neither from Normandie nor from Bordeaux; I am a Lorrainer; Toul is my native place; my parents, who are poor but honorable farmers, are named Granery; I am the sister of AimÉe and Suzanne."

The viscount and Monsieur de Mardeille made a gesture of surprise and their brows grew dark when they heard those names; while Dupont thought:

"What has this to do with me?"

"Yes," continued Georgette, addressing Mardeille, "I am the sister of that poor AimÉe, who came to Paris, where she hoped, by means of her skill in embroidery, to be able to help her parents. As ill luck would have it, she fell in with you. AimÉe was beautiful, and she caught your fancy; being innocent and inexperienced, she believed your fine speeches, your promises, your oaths—in short, she allowed herself to be seduced. A child, a son, was the result of her misstep. But you had already begun to act differently toward her, your visits became more rare; and when she asked you for the means to support and bring up her child, then you ceased entirely to see her. Ah! monsieur, a man must be very hard-hearted to behave like that. To stop loving a person is possible, I admit; but to spurn a mother who asks you for bread for her child! Oh! that is shameful!"

Monsieur de Mardeille hung his head and made no reply. Thereupon Georgette turned to the viscount:

"Do I need to remind you, monsieur, that your treatment of my sister Suzanne was exactly the same as this gentleman's treatment of AimÉe? You seduced a poor girl who was innocence itself—you cannot deny it; then, after making her the mother of a daughter, you abandoned her, and, to avoid seeing her tears and hearing her complaints, you went away, you left Paris. My sisters returned to the province, in utter despair. They threw themselves at our parents' feet, with the children they were nursing; and, instead of cursing them, my parents wept with them and tried to comfort them; for with us, people don't curse their children when they are unfortunate. Isn't it more natural to forgive them? But I, seeing my sisters weep every day over their children's cradles, said to myself: 'I will go to Paris, too, but I will go to avenge them!'—I was twenty years old, I was well and strong, and I was especially noted for a resolute will. My parents tried in vain to oppose my determination. I started for Paris. Unfortunately, AimÉe did not know Monsieur de Mardeille's address, and Suzanne did not know whether Monsieur de Sommerston had returned to Paris. But nothing could deter me.—'I shall succeed in finding them,' I said to myself; 'and something leads me to hope that my enterprise will be successful.'—I flattered myself that I should be able to make your acquaintance, messieurs. You know whether I succeeded.—Now, Monsieur de Mardeille, is it necessary for me to tell you that the twelve thousand francs I asked of you was for your son, that it has been invested in his name, and will be used to bring him up?—And you, monsieur le vicomte, whom I asked for twenty thousand francs, because I knew that you were a richer man, and because a girl's education costs more than a boy's—you know now that that sum will be used to bring up Suzanne's daughter, and to provide her with a dowry.—Well, messieurs, do you consider now that my conduct was so blamable? That money, with which you intended to seduce and ruin me, as you ruined my sisters, I have put to a good use. It will make it possible to bring up your children carefully; and what you would have employed in an evil action will accomplish a result that will do you honor. Tell me, messieurs, do you bear me a grudge now?"

"Faith! no," cried the viscount; "the play was well acted! You performed your part perfectly! Accept my congratulations, madame, together with this petticoat, which I hasten to restore to you.—Here, Tom! hand that garment to madame."

Monsieur de Mardeille did not seem to have accepted the inevitable so gracefully as the viscount; however, he realized that he must resign himself, and at least pretend to repent of his wrongdoing. Consequently, he said to Georgette:

"Madame, I judged you ill, that is true. I did treat your sister AimÉe somewhat inconsiderately, and you have repaired my neglect, my fault. We men are drawn on by the current of business and pleasure, and are sometimes at fault when we do not mean to be. Present my compliments to your sister. Here is the little petticoat that became you so well!"

"But why am I mixed up in this affair, madame, I who never seduced any of your sisters?"

"You, monsieur," replied Georgette, with a smile—"I took you at first for an honorable, loyal man, whose arm I could accept without fear, for I was alone in Paris. I did not then know the addresses of these gentlemen, which my sisters succeeded in obtaining for me later. I wanted to go to the play and to the fashionable promenades, hoping to discover, to meet there, the persons I was absolutely determined to find."

"I understand; you used me as an escort."

"Something like it, monsieur. As for your love, that didn't frighten me. When I learned that you had lied to me, that you were married, as it was a matter of perfect indifference to me, I might have forgiven you; but you attempted to take most unbecoming liberties with me! So then, monsieur, I left you without ceremony, abandoning in your hands a little petticoat—which you have brought to me, I hope?"

"Yes, madame, here it is."

And Dupont, hanging his head rather sheepishly, produced his little parcel and handed it to Georgette. She took it and gave it to her husband; then she rose, and, with a graceful courtesy to the three men who had been in love with her, said:

"Now that I am rehabilitated in your eyes, messieurs, it remains for me only to wish you whatever may be most agreeable to you."

And, after bowing once more, Georgette took her husband's arm and walked away with him.

Her three ex-lovers looked after her, and the viscount exclaimed:

"Sapristi! what a difference between that huge funnel and the little petticoat that outlined her form so perfectly! Ah! if I had seen her dressed as she is to-day, all this wouldn't have happened!"

"Indeed, it wouldn't!" cried Monsieur de Mardeille; "indeed, it wouldn't have happened; I should still have my twelve thousand francs."

"I agree with you entirely, messieurs," said Dupont; "what a difference in her shape! And the change is not to her advantage! The idea of getting into that sugar-loaf affair, instead of letting us see her graceful outlines! Ah! madame! what a scurvy trick to play on us!"

FOOTNOTES: