Dupont was obliged to keep his room a week. He had taken rooms in an unpretentious hotel on Rue de Seine. To pass the time, which seemed very long, our provincial spent most of the day at his window. As his rooms were on the third floor, and as the opposite house was not high, Dupont was able to look into the chamber of a neighbor who lived opposite, under the eaves. "I haven't had any luck in Paris yet," thought Dupont, as he paced the floor slowly, with his head swathed in bandages. "I have done what I could to amuse myself, but I have had poor success; however, I must admit that I sleep less--especially since I received this wound in the face. I won't go to balls any more in search of _bonnes fortunes_. But sometimes one goes far afield in search of what one has close at hand. In one of those attic chambers opposite, I have noticed a young woman--very pretty she is, on my word! and, above all, well built. I am the better able to judge, because I see her in négligé costume--a morning jacket, and a short fustian skirt, as well as I can see from here. But how alluring that simple négligé is! It enables one to admire a shapely, flexible figure, and hips! oh! such well-rounded hips! She has a fine shape! It is impossible not to fall in love with such a shape!" And Dupont, opening his window, although it was quite cold, leaned bravely out, and fastened his eyes on his neighbor's window. It was closed, but the curtains were not drawn, and he could easily see the young woman who lived there, and who was at that moment engaged in arranging her hair before a mirror fastened to the window shutter. "Her face is captivating," said Dupont to himself; "wide-awake brown eyes, a turned-up nose--_à la_ Roxelane, as they say--and a mouth--hum! the mouth isn't small, but it's well furnished; and then, she has a very pleasant smile. But, on the whole, there's nothing extraordinary about the face, and I prefer the figure. Ah! good! now she's walking about the room--still in that charming costume, tight-fitting white jacket, and the little striped skirt that hangs so well over her rounded hips. I can't see her foot or leg, but they must be beautiful; a tall, graceful figure almost always means a good leg. I certainly am dead in love with that figure; I must make that girl's acquaintance. She must have noticed my assiduity in watching her. It doesn't seem to displease her; there's nothing savage in her manner; on the contrary, there's a merry, aye, a mischievous look about her face, which seems to be intended to encourage one to make her acquaintance. She is probably a seamstress. As soon as I can go out, I'll ask the concierge opposite; I know how to make those fellows talk." Meanwhile, being engrossed by his neighbor, Dupont slept much less, and sometimes even passed the night without sleep. That was good progress, and he said to himself: