Lastly, the old bachelor himself had purchased a box of candied fruit, without his maid-servant's knowledge. But he took care not to intrust his gift to the concierge, for if he did he knew that his servant would certainly be told of it. So he went out on the boulevard and found a little bootblack, to whom he handed his box and gave instructions where to deliver it; and as he did not choose to remain incognito, lest his pretty neighbor should attribute his gift to somebody else, he instructed his messenger to say to her: "Your neighbor, Monsieur Renardin, sends you this box, with his compliments.--Above all things," he added, "don't stop at the concierge's lodge, and don't speak to him; go straight to Mademoiselle Georgette's room on the entresol. You are paid, so take nothing from her." Affairs were in this condition when Monsieur de Mardeille sent his valet Frontin to Georgette's room. From early morning, the concierge, having received the presents one after another, had passed all his time going back and forth from his lodge to the entresol, where the young shirtmaker accepted without hesitation everything that was sent to her, simply saying to the concierge: "Say to monsieur that I thank him." "Don't forget to read the verses, mademoiselle; there's verses written on the paper," said the concierge, when he delivered the bunches of violets. "All right; I'll read everything, but I shall not answer anything." Georgette had read the quatrain, and was humming the vaudevillist's ballad, which was written to the tune of _La Boulangère_, laughing heartily at the words: "Vous avez un minois fripon, Une taille tres-fine; L'oeil assassin, 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 passed 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 shirtmaker 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!"