"And her teeth--are they fine?"

"Whose teeth?"

"Your wife's."

"Mon Dieu! mademoiselle, don't you propose to talk about anything but my wife? I will confess that I didn't ask you to dine with me in order to hear you talk about her."

"That may be; but the subject is very interesting to me."

"Must I tell you again, my lovely Georgette, that in Paris I have no wife, that I am a bachelor again?"

"True; I know perfectly well that you would like to make people think so. But, after all, my dear Monsieur Dupont, you may be quite sure of one thing, and that is that it's a matter of indifference to me whether you are married or single."

Dupont wondered how he ought to take that. He concluded to look upon it as an omen favorable to his love, and filled his neighbor's gla.s.s with grenache, saying:

"This is a lady's wine, very sweet, which won't stand water. Taste it, I beg you."

Georgette took one swallow of grenache, then put her gla.s.s on the table.

"I don't like sweetened wines," she said.

"Sapristi! what in heaven's name does she like?" thought Dupont; and to console himself, he emptied his own gla.s.s at a draught.

But by dint of trying to maintain his aplomb, he became as red as his friend Jolibois; and when the champagne was brought, he left his chair and proposed to Georgette to dance the polka with him. She laughed in his face and sent him back to his seat. He filled a gla.s.s with champagne and offered it to the girl.

"Don't you like champagne either?" he asked.

"Oh, no! it has an effervescence, a sparkle, that arouses---- Does your wife like it?"

Dupont brought his fist down on the table, drank a gla.s.s of champagne, and cried:

"Upon my word, you're laughing at me! But you shall pay me for it! That calls for revenge, and I propose to avenge myself by kissing you."

As he spoke, he rose and rushed toward Georgette, and tried to put his arms about her. But she checked him with a firm hand.

"None of this nonsense, Monsieur Dupont," she said, "or I shall be seriously angry."

"What, dear angel! do you really mean to refuse me this?"

"I shall refuse you everything; you may be sure of that."

"Oho! why, then you have been laughing at me, making a fool of me!"

"In what way have I made a fool of you, monsieur?"

"In what way? Why, in every way! When a woman accepts a man's attentions, when she consents to receive presents from him,--a shawl, a bonnet, and heaven knows what!--she doesn't send him about his business afterward, do you understand, mademoiselle?"

"I understand, monsieur, that you are as foolish as you are impertinent.

Did I ever give you the slightest hope that I would be your mistress?

You taunt me for accepting a few paltry presents. I have made you some much more valuable ones, by consenting to receive your visits, to go to walk and to the theatre with you, to put my arm in yours. Do you count all that as nothing, monsieur?"

"I don't say that. But you consented to dine with me in a private room; and when a woman goes to a private dining-room with a gentleman--it isn't for the purpose of being cruel. Everybody knows that."

"Oh! I could well afford to dine tete-a-tete with you, monsieur, for you have never been at all dangerous to me."

"Then why have you always refused until to-day?"

"Because I didn't choose to give you hopes that could not be realized."

"And why did you accept to-day?"

"Because it bored me to walk about in the rain with you. But, never fear, monsieur, I shall not be caught again."

Dupont was terribly put out; but self-esteem, the wine he had drunk, and the mocking glances of the girl, who seemed to defy him--all these excited him beyond measure, and he determined to face even Mademoiselle Georgette's wrath. He said to himself that he was nothing but a simpleton, that the girl was laughing at him, that he would never have so favorable an opportunity again, and that he would be a fool not to take advantage of it. All these reflections pa.s.sed through his mind like a flash of lightning; having failed in his attempt to kiss his intended victim, he ventured to attack her in a different fashion. Instantly he received a smart blow as the reward of his audacity.

"Leave me, monsieur," said Georgette, rising from her seat; "you are an insolent fellow, and I will not remain with you another minute."

"Oh! I am very sorry, my lovely neighbor, but I will not leave you,"

replied Dupont, who had lost his head completely; and he succeeded in seizing the short striped petticoat that Georgette had on. "No, no; I have got hold of that charming little skirt which is so becoming to you, and which I have gazed at and admired so often! I've got it, and I won't let it go."

"All right! then keep it, monsieur, for it's all you will ever have of mine!"

As she spoke, Georgette found a way to let the skirt fall at her feet.

She jumped over it, ran to where her shawl and bonnet were hanging, and left the room before Dupont, who still held the striped skirt in his hand, had recovered from his astonishment.

VII

THE SECOND PETTICOAT

On the day following that dinner, Mademoiselle Georgette left her modest little chamber on Rue de Seine very early in the morning; for she had taken care to give notice in the middle of the quarter.

This time she hired lodgings in the Marais, on Boulevard Beaumarchais, where rows of handsome houses, solidly constructed, now replace the paths, shaded by secular trees, which used often to serve as places of a.s.signation for lovelorn couples.

The young embroiderer exchanged her attic room for a small apartment, still very modest, but indicating a less precarious financial condition.

The furniture, too, was more pretentious; it was not that of a _pet.i.te-maitresse_, but it was no longer that of a grisette.

Mademoiselle Georgette changed her business also; she abandoned embroidery to become a shirtmaker; and as she sewed as well as she embroidered, she did not lack work.

Lastly, the short fustian skirt gave place to a petticoat of black silk, which fell gracefully over her alluring figure and reached only halfway to her ankle, so that it disclosed the lower part of a very shapely leg and the beginning of a plump calf.

In her own room, the pretty shirtmaker affected the costume that she wore in the attic on Rue de Seine, a tight-fitting white jacket, and the short skirt that was so becoming to her. Add to these, spotlessly clean white stockings, and a tiny foot neatly shod, and she was quite certain to turn the heads of all who saw her in that charming neglige.

Georgette lived now at the rear of a courtyard; but that courtyard was s.p.a.cious, airy, and well kept; it was square in shape, and the tenants of the building in front looked on the boulevard and on the courtyard, while those in the building at the rear had the latter view only; and when they sat at their windows, they could see nothing but one another.

Georgette occupied two small rooms on the entresol. But above her was an elderly female annuitant, with her servant; their combined ages exceeded a century. On the next floor above, a family of honest bourgeois, who were always in bed at half-past ten. On the upper floor, a lady who gave lessons on the piano. In the building at her right lived an unmarried government clerk, who had a maid of all work. Above him, a lady of uncertain age, who had once been very pretty, and was still a great coquette; who covered her face with rice powder, cold cream, and red, blue, and black paint; who regretted the _mouches_ with which ladies used to spot their faces, but who had made, with the aid of a red-hot pin, two beauty spots--one on the left cheek, the other on a spot which is not seen. But, you will say, if it is not seen, why make the beauty spot there? Ah! you are too inquisitive! Pray, do not those persons who are gifted with second-sight see everything, even the most carefully hidden things? The second beauty spot was for them; magnetism is an invaluable science.