"I should not have believed--or rather, I should not have hoped---- Certainly I do not attach any value to these gewgaws that I sent you; it wasn't on account of them that I knocked at your door last night; but I thought that you were touched by my passion for you, that you no longer doubted it--that was what led me to come here and knock last night, after the theatre. Forgive me, I beseech you, my dear neighbor; don't be angry with me; it would make me too unhappy." "As you admit your wrongdoing," Georgette answered, with a smile, "I forgive you. Oh! I am not one who bears malice! I say at once what I have on my heart; then it's all over and I think no more about it." The old beau took the girl's hand and respectfully put it to his lips. She withdrew it and pointed to a chair, saying: "Now sit down, and let us talk about something else." "Something else!" murmured Monsieur de Mardeille as he sat down. "When I am with you, it is hard for me to refrain from telling you of my love. Does it make you angry?" "No; but have you forgotten what I said to you?" "Faith! it's quite possible, my dear neighbor; what did you say to me on that subject?" "I told you that I did not believe in any man's love until he had given me proofs of it." Her neighbor frowned, and faltered: "Ah! yes--to be sure--I remember now--proofs. But I don't feel quite sure what you mean by that." "Oh! monsieur, I should consider that I insulted you if I explained my meaning any further!" retorted Georgette, satirically. "If you don't understand me, so much the worse for you!" "Did you enjoy the play last night?" hastily inquired Monsieur de Mardeille, anxious to change the subject. "Yes, monsieur, very much. I would go very often, if I had the means." "But if someone takes you, it's the same thing, isn't it?" "No, monsieur; it isn't the same thing to be able to give one's self pleasure when one chooses, as to take it only when it pleases others to offer it." "At all events, my pretty neighbor, when it is your pleasure to go again, I shall be at your service and delighted to escort you." "You are too kind, monsieur.--Did you notice that lady in pink who was in a box on the stage last night?" "In a proscenium box, do you mean?" "I don't know whether you call it a proscenium box, but the lady I mean had a sort of crown of flowers on her head--and she was very pretty, too." "Oh! yes, I remember--a lovely blonde. That was Irma, one of the women most in vogue at this moment." "Do you know her?" "Oh! as one knows a great many of the women one meets at all the balls at the Casino, at all the first performances--in short, at all the functions to which one can gain admission by paying for it." "Is she married?" "Married? the deuce! never!--As if those creatures ever married! She's a kept woman, that's the whole story."