"A shirtmaker! What! do you presume to praise a shirtmaker to me, Frontin?"
Monsieur de Mardeille had insisted that his valet should consent to be called Frontin, although his real name was Eustache; for the name Frontin, which used to be employed in all comic operas, reminded our elegant seducer of a multitude of interesting and diverting love intrigues, wherein Frontin's master was always triumphant; and it was probably with a view to reproducing in actual life those scenes of the stage that Monsieur de Mardeille had dubbed his servant Frontin. If he had dared, he would have called him Figaro; but he himself was beginning to be a little mature to play Almaviva.
Frontin, a great clown who deemed himself very shrewd, smiled as he answered:
"Faith! monsieur, I thought that a pretty girl was a pretty girl, even if she was a shirtmaker!"
"There may be some little truth in what you say, Frontin; but so far as I am concerned, you must understand that I look at women with other eyes than yours; that is to say, to appear pretty to me, a young woman, even a grisette,—for I do not absolutely debar grisettes,—must have something more than the commonplace beauties which charm you other men on the instant. She must have a—I don't know what—a certain peculiar fascination which we connoisseurs readily recognize, and to which the common herd of martyrs pay no heed. Tell me, Frontin, what you noticed especially alluring in this girl? I shall see at once whether you're an expert."
"What I noticed, monsieur?"
"Yes. And, first of all, where did you see her?"
"I saw her pass this morning, monsieur, crossing the courtyard; I was in the concierge's lodge, and he said to me: 'See, there's the new tenant of the little entresol! That's Mamzelle Georgette; she's a shirtmaker, and she sews like a fairy, so they say.'—Naturally, I looked at her. I should say that she's about twenty, very well built, with very pleasant, attractive eyes; eyes of the sort that—that——"
"Enough, Frontin, I understand. What else?"
"Dame! monsieur, her nose is a little turned up, and she has a very large mouth; I saw her teeth when she spoke to the concierge; there isn't one missing, monsieur."