Frederique Volume II Part 55

"Vous avez un minois fripon, Une taille tres-fine; L'oeil a.s.sa.s.sin, le pied mignon, La tournure mutine; J'admire enfin votre jupon Et tout ce qu'on devine De rond, Et tout ce qu'on devine!"[E]

when the concierge appeared once more, with the package of photographs of actors; and a few moments later with the box adorned with cupids.

"What! more?" said Georgette. "Why, these gentlemen seem to have pa.s.sed the word around to-day to pay compliments to me!"

"Faith! yes, mademoiselle, they're standing in line at my door. But I don't complain; to tell you the truth, all these young men are well intentioned; all they want is to pay their respects to you; that's what they told me to tell you."

"I accept the little gifts, monsieur; they serve to keep up--pleasant relations; but be good enough to say to these gentlemen that I do not want their respects, and beg them not to take the trouble of coming to offer them to me."

"The devil!" muttered the concierge, as he went away; "the young s.h.i.+rtmaker is one of the virtuous kind, it seems; and these gentlemen won't have anything to show for their presents! But in spite of that, she accepts everything that comes!"

Georgette had just received the package of simples presented by the young doctor and had repeated her previous reply to the concierge, when Monsieur de Mardeille's valet presented himself at her door.

He saluted her with the unceremonious air commonly a.s.sumed by servants who think that their appearance is most welcome; and when Georgette asked him what he wanted, he replied in an almost patronizing tone:

"I come, mademoiselle, from my master, Monsieur de Mardeille--the gentleman who lives opposite, on the first floor--an apartment that rents for three thousand francs. My master is very rich; he has more than twenty-five thousand francs a year; he might have a carriage if he chose; he has money enough. The only reason that he hasn't one is that he doesn't want it."

Georgette laughed in the servant's face.

"Well! what of it?" she retorted. "What do you suppose I care whether your master has a carriage or not, or how much he pays for his apartment? Did he send you here to tell me that? Oh! that would be too stupid!"

Monsieur Frontin was a little disconcerted to find that he had not produced more effect. He continued, in a less lofty tone:

"No, mademoiselle, no; my master didn't send me here to tell you that.

But I thought--I supposed you would be glad to be informed. One likes to know with whom one is dealing."

"Do your errand; that will be better than your long speeches."

This time Frontin was altogether disconcerted; he expected to find a young seamstress only too delighted to receive a message from his master, and he found that he had to do with a young woman who seemed strongly inclined to laugh at him. So he decided to be very polite, and said in a respectful tone:

"My master, mademoiselle, having occasion to have some s.h.i.+rts made, and knowing that you work in that line, requests you to be kind enough to call at his apartment, so that he may give you his order and be measured."

"Monsieur," replied Georgette, in a very decided tone, "you will say to your master that I am not in the habit of calling upon unmarried men. If he were married, if his wife were with him, why, I would gladly comply with his request, there would be no difficulty about it; but as he is alone----"

"He has a maid, mademoiselle, and myself."

"Servants don't count, monsieur. I shall not go to your master's apartment; if he has an order to give me, he can take the trouble to come here; I will receive him and his twenty-five thousand francs a year, with or without a carriage!"

Frontin was piqued; in the first place, because the young woman had said that servants did not count; and secondly, because she seemed to make very little account of his master's exalted position. He replied, with evident irritation:

"Why, where would be the harm, mademoiselle? Suppose you should come to Monsieur de Mardeille's rooms; you wouldn't be the first one to do it!

He receives ladies--a great many ladies! And they _are_ ladies, too, who don't work for everybody."

"Monsieur le valet de chambre, you are a donkey! You talk nothing but nonsense!"

"What's that? I am a donkey! Allow me----"

"I don't doubt that your master receives many ladies, and for that very reason I don't propose to add to the number."

"But----"

"Enough of this! You have my answer; go and repeat it to Monsieur de Mardeille."

Frontin was on the point of making some retort, when a great uproar in the courtyard attracted the attention of all the tenants of the house.

X

A BOX OF CANDIED FRUIT

The reader will remember that Monsieur Renardin, one of Georgette's neighbors, who had a maid of all work, had purchased a box of candied fruit and had employed a little bootblack to deliver it to Georgette, and had told him that she lived on the entresol at the rear of the courtyard.

But the young fellow, who was a messenger as well as a bootblack, was a child of Auvergne, and had just as much intelligence as he required to black boots or to carry a pail of water; almost all water carriers are Auvergnats. He put the box of candied fruit under his arm; it was carefully wrapped in white paper and tied with pink ribbon. He entered the designated house, and, pa.s.sing the concierge's door with his head in the air, started across the courtyard; but the concierge, who had seen him pa.s.s, ran out of his lodge and stopped him, saying:

"Where in the devil are you going, you young scamp? What do you mean by marching by my door without a word? That's no way to go into a house, do you hear, Savoyard?"

"I ain't no Savoyard, I'm an Auvergnat."

"Savoyard or Auvergnat! I don't care which, they're the same thing!

Where are you going, I say?"

"I'm not speaking to you! I'm going straight ahead."

"I see that you don't speak to me; but I speak to you; I'm the concierge, and I have a right to question you, and you must answer."

"I'm not to speak to the concierge, that's my orders. I'm going straight ahead."

"What an obstinate little beggar! I tell you, you shan't pa.s.s till I know where you're going!"

"But I tell you I'm going straight ahead to take this box."

"Where?"

"I won't tell you."

"I'll make you tell me! What's in the box? explosive stuff, perhaps? If you won't answer, I'll take you and your box before the magistrate."

The concierge seized the boy's arm; he struggled and wept, and shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Let me be--you big thief! Monsieur Renardin, your neighbor, sent me here, and I'll tell him that you wouldn't let me do my errand!"

Mademoiselle Arthemise, the old bachelor's servant, crossed the courtyard at that moment. Hearing her master's name, she stopped short, then ran to the messenger.

"Monsieur Renardin!" she cried; "who wants Monsieur Renardin? This little fellow?--What do you want of him?"