"I should be very glad to go to her room and try them on; but she's so afraid of me! No matter! I'll keep them as they are." "No, monsieur, no; I don't propose to have her send you work that ain't done right; you pay too well." "By the way, how much do I owe for these?" "I don't know, monsieur. Madame Landernoy's never made any before; so she says: 'Let the gentleman pay what he thinks they're worth, and I'll be satisfied.'" "Four waistcoats, at twelve francs each, makes forty-eight francs." "Oh! monsieur is joking! Twelve francs for making a waistcoat! You can't mean that, monsieur! At that rate, all women would be waistcoat makers; they can't get any such pay as that." "You weary me with your scruples, Madame Potrelle; my tailor charges me eighteen or twenty francs, sometimes more, for a waistcoat. With what I paid for the material, these won't cost any more than that, and I certainly don't propose to get them any cheaper." "Sapristi! monsieur, tailors must do mighty well, then! All right, you can pay that price, since that suits you; but, I tell you, I won't take the money till they fit." Thereupon the concierge walked toward the door. "Where are you going, Madame Potrelle?" "I'm going to tell our young woman she must fix over your waistcoats, monsieur; that they're a gold mine, but that she's got to take 'em in a little. In a word, I'm going to bring Madame Landernoy back with me. What the devil! with me here, she won't be afraid of you eating her, I fancy! To be on your guard is all right; but there's no need of making a fool of yourself! I'll be back, monsieur." "But your door, Madame Potrelle?" "My cats are there--and my little niece." The good woman went away, refusing to listen to my remonstrances. Would she bring Mignonne back with her? I most sincerely hoped that the young woman would not be annoyed thereat. My desire to know her better was due solely to my wish to be of use to her. I was not in love with her. Indeed, since Madame Sordeville had treated me so shamefully, I did not propose to love any woman. That was my intention, at least. Madame Potrelle had been gone nearly two hours, and I was preparing to go out, thinking that she would not return, when there came a gentle ring at my door, and Pomponne soon appeared, still with his air of mystery and walking on tiptoe, and said: "Monsieur, it's the old woman who was here just now; she hasn't got anything in her apron this time, but she's brought with her a young woman--or demoiselle--who is very good-looking." I could not help laughing at Monsieur Pomponne's reflections; but I remembered Mignonne's extreme suspicion. It was essential that I should assume a serious bearing, to banish from her mind any thought of seduction. So that my expression was almost stern when I ordered Pomponne to admit my visitors.