"A pleasant journey, Monsieur Colinet! We shall meet again, I hope."

"Oh, yes!" said Georgette; "you will certainly see him again."

When Monsieur de Mardeille had gone, Colinet said, with a sigh:

"He's luckier than I am, that man is; for he stays with you, and I am going to leave you again!"

"No, Colinet, he isn't luckier than you, for I love you, and I shall never have either love or friendship for that man."

"Ah! if that's so, you're right, I am luckier than he is! His breakfast was mighty good! But, for all that, I'd rather have nothing but potatoes, with n.o.body but you!"

"So would I, my friend."

"Then you ought not to have invited him!"

"Are you going to begin your questions again, Colinet?"

"Oh! no, no! forgive me; I'm done."

"Then kiss me and go; and kiss my father and mother and sisters for me."

"Oh! never you fear; I won't fail."

Colinet kissed Georgette and went away, weeping as bitterly as on the previous occasion.

XVI

TWELVE THOUSAND FRANCS

About five o'clock in the afternoon, Monsieur de Mardeille returned to Georgette's room, having seen her sitting at the window, alone.

"Well, so your young compatriot has gone?" he said, taking a seat by her side.

"Yes, monsieur, a long while ago; almost as soon as you went."

"That young man seems to be very fond of you."

"Yes; he's a true friend."

"But isn't he your lover?"

"I have told you, monsieur, that I have no lover; and I can add, without lying, that I have never had one."

"I believe you, my dear neighbor, I believe you; although it's a rare thing to find in Paris a girl of twenty--for you are twenty, are you not?"

"And six months, monsieur."

"And six months! that makes it all the more remarkable! A girl who is virtuous and always has been. Oh! that is very pretty! But, after all, I suppose that you do not intend to retain your--heart always?"

"I don't know, monsieur; one cannot tell what may happen."

"Bravo! very well answered!"

And Monsieur de Mardeille moved his chair nearer to Georgette's, and murmured:

"And suppose circ.u.mstances should bring you in contact with a man who adores you, whose happiness consists in making you happy,--like myself, for instance,--then would you yield to him?"

"But women are so weak!"

"Ah! fascinating girl, I am the happiest of men! you fill my cup to the brim!"

As he spoke, Monsieur de Mardeille extended his hand toward the little black petticoat; but Georgette quickly moved her chair away and struck him a smart blow on the fingers, saying in a very serious tone:

"Well! monsieur, what sort of manners are these? I have told you before that I did not like that!"

The ex-beau stamped on the floor in a rage, crying:

"Sapristi! mademoiselle, so you propose to make a fool of me to the end!

You give me reason to hope that you will cease to be cruel, and then you forbid me the slightest liberty! What does it all mean? Where do we stand? I would like very much to know what to expect."

"I am not making a fool of you, monsieur; but what led you to think that I was about to yield to you already?"

"Already! _already_ is very pretty, on my word! When I have been making love to mademoiselle more than two months! when I have made great sacrifices for her! I am not talking about the dress--that was a trifle; but you seemed to want a diamond brooch, and I sent it to you instantly. That was no trifle, allow me to tell you; and when a woman accepts such presents----"

"She immediately becomes the mistress of the man who gives them; is that it, monsieur?"

"Faith, yes! at least, that's the general rule."

"Well, monsieur, it isn't according to my ideas!"

"In that case, mademoiselle, what are your ideas, or rather your demands? for, really, I don't understand you."

"Look you, Monsieur de Mardeille, do you wish me to explain myself frankly? do you wish me to tell you what I have resolved upon?"

"Oh, yes! pray explain yourself! that will give me great pleasure!

Speak! I am impatient to hear you."

"Listen to me, then, monsieur. If I, being touched and flattered by your present of a brooch, should yield to you to-day, as you claim that I ought to do, what would happen, monsieur? This: that when your love, or rather your caprice, was once satisfied--for, with most men of your stamp, this ardent love is only a caprice----"

"Oh! can you believe----"

"Yes, monsieur, yes, I do believe it; indeed, I haven't the least doubt of it; but let me finish, I beg.--Well! if I were weak enough, foolish enough--let us not mince words--to cease to resist, then, in a month, or two months, say three months, if you choose, you would have had enough of your little grisette; she would bore you, and you would cease to see her; more than that, you would avoid her as zealously as you now seek her. So the girl is abandoned by the man to whom she sacrificed everything, whose oaths she believed! And that man, after making her unaccustomed to work by a life of idleness and dissipation, leaves her, in most cases, with no resource against dest.i.tution! But even that is not all! If the girl alone were unhappy, that would be much, no doubt, but still she alone would be punished for her fault. It is not always so. Often, too often, a wretched child is born of that pa.s.sing connection. Then the poor girl, who can hardly support herself by her labor, has no means of supporting her child! Isn't that horrible? Ought not one to shrink in dismay from such a terrible future?"

"Oh! mademoiselle, you are imagining chimeras! You are romancing!"