"I want you to mention her now, and to tell me everything you know about her. And you must know something, for you're always in the concierge's lodge." "Bless me! monsieur, it's the same old story: Monsieur Bistelle keeps sending Mamzelle Georgette bouquets and billets-doux, begging her to receive him; but, _nisco!_ she won't receive him, and she sends back his billets-doux." "Really? Georgette refuses to receive that fellow? That's good! She received me; and my neighbor is rich and must have made her handsome offers! So she gave me the preference; therefore she must have a penchant for me! She resists me only because she's got that wretched notion of dread of possible results in her head. But I am preferred; therefore she loves me; it's just the same thing. Is that all you know, Frontin?" "Oh! the gentleman--the old bachelor, Monsieur Renardin, has been trying to send something else to our little neighbor. He ordered a superb Savoy biscuit. I don't know how Mademoiselle Arthémise found out about it, but she did. So then she did sentry duty in the concierge's lodge, and stopped the pastry cook's boy as he passed, got possession of the Savoy biscuit, hollowed it out, and put it on her head, so that she looked like a Turk. She went all over the house with the biscuit on her head, and waited on her master at dinner that way. He happened to have company, too!" "That was well done! Think of that man flattering himself that he could seduce her with biscuits! What a jackass!" Monsieur de Mardeille went to the window and raised the curtain. Georgette was in her usual place, and seemed to him even more seductive than ever. He feared that she might be offended with him; however, he could not resist the desire to open the window and seat himself at it; then he watched for a glance from her. It was not long before she raised her eyes in his direction; whereupon he made her a low bow, to which she replied by a most affable smile. He was enchanted, radiant; he passed an hour at the window; and Georgette looked at him and smiled several times. "She isn't angry; she will receive me kindly--I saw that in her eyes," he said to himself. "Yes, I can call on her without fear. True; but if I don't follow out her suggestion, I shall not make any progress." The day passed, and Monsieur de Mardeille had been unable to decide what course to pursue. He went to his desk several times, looked through his cashbox, counted the banknotes, gazed at them with a sigh, then restored them to their place. Love and avarice were fighting a battle to the death in his heart, and his long-standing habits were being subjected to a cruel shock. The next day he was still wavering, hesitating, unable to decide upon any plan, when Frontin suddenly came to him and said: "Do come and look out of the window, monsieur; Mamzelle Georgette is in the courtyard, pumping; if you could see how gracefully she pumps!" "Yes, yes, let's see that!"