It was Georgette's turn to laugh; and she did it so frankly, so unreservedly, that the old beau, who had leaned over toward her, straightened himself up and seemed completely taken back. As the pretty shirtmaker continued to laugh, he decided to say: "Mon Dieu! mademoiselle, I am delighted to have afforded you so much amusement; but may I not know what it is that makes you laugh so heartily? It cannot be my avowal of my sentiments? You must be accustomed to receive such declarations, are you not? So far as I have been able to see, almost all the men in the house have told you or would like to tell you the same thing." "Ah! you know that, do you, monsieur?" "Did I not see the concierge pass the whole of yesterday bringing you bouquets, photographs, and heaven knows what? I even heard something of a box of candied fruit.--Ha! ha! ha! that was too absurd!" "It is quite true that all the gentlemen in the house have been most polite to me." "Faith! mademoiselle, I don't send bouquets myself; I consider it so commonplace, so vulgar, that I am not tempted to imitate these gentry. I speak out, I say frankly what I feel. Don't you consider that the better way?" "Why, it seems to me that it is very pleasant to receive bouquets and other presents." Monsieur de Mardeille bit his lips and said to himself: "She likes her little presents; she's selfish; that's a pity!" But that did not prevent him from moving his chair nearer to Georgette's, and trying to assume a very affectionate, touching tone, as he murmured: "You have made no reply to my declaration, charming girl." "I beg your pardon; didn't you hear me laugh?" "What! is that the way you reply? What am I to conclude from that?" "That I took your declaration of love for what it was worth--that is to say, for a joke." "A joke! Oh! don't think it! I spoke most seriously. I love you! I adore you!" "On the instant, just from seeing me at my window?" "Does it take weeks or months to fall in love? We see a woman; she attracts us, fascinates us at once, or never. Love--what is it but electricity?" "Oh! I didn't know!" "Why, it is nothing else; a pretty woman's eyes contain the fluid that electrifies us. The moment that we feel the shock, it's all up with us; we are electrified." "Really! and the women, what electrifies them?" "Why, that is done by the same process; our glances do the business!" As he spoke, he tried to electrify the girl by fixing his eyes upon her, full of fire, and attempted to move his chair still nearer. But Georgette moved hers away, saying in a very sharp tone: "Don't sit so near me, monsieur, I beg you! it makes it hard for me to work, and, besides, it isn't proper." The old beau was speechless with surprise; he concluded that his eyes had not emitted enough of the magnetic fluid, and tried to make them still more inflammable as he exclaimed: "May not one venture to approach you, pray, in order to admire that divine figure at closer quarters?"