Thereupon Monsieur de Mardeille left his window, saying:
"We must not be too lavish of our attentions at once! But from the way the little one smiled at me, I see that this conquest will not cost me much trouble."
IX
THE LITTLE BLACK SKIRT DOES ITS WORK
While Monsieur de Mardeille deemed himself certain of triumphing over the young shirtmaker, almost all the other tenants of the house were trying to make a favorable impression on her. Georgette's little skirt had turned all their heads. The young men of letters were pleased to write verses in her honor, to commemorate her seductive figure in a ballad; they proposed to immortalize Georgette as Béranger immortalized Lisette, as all lovelorn poets have tried to immortalize their mistresses and their love affairs. Each of them believed himself to be a Virgil, a Catullus, a Tibullus, a Petrarch. There is no harm in that: we ought always to believe ourselves to be something; it affords one so much pleasure and costs so little!
The miniature painter determined to propose to paint the girl's portrait. The photographer hoped that she would allow him to photograph her in all sizes and in different attitudes.
The young doctor was bent upon attending her, and prayed heaven to inflict some trifling indisposition upon his pretty neighbor which would compel her to have recourse to his skill. The married man, who was very ugly and had a pretty wife, naturally considered the shirtmaker much better-looking than his wife. As he lived above Monsieur de Mardeille, he too had an excellent view of Georgette's apartment. So he frequently stationed himself at one of the windows in his dining-room; and from thence, not content with staring at his neighbor, he had no scruple about making signs and throwing kisses to her—in a word, indulging in a pantomime most discreditable to a married man. The truth was that he knew that his wife was not jealous, and that she paid little heed to his acts and gestures.
In fact, even the old bachelor, who had a maid of all work, ventured to make eyes at the pretty shirtmaker, despite his fifty-five years; and as his windows were not opposite hers, in order to see her he was obliged to lean very far out of his window.
Thereupon the maid of all work never failed to cry out:
"Mon Dieu! monsieur, it's perfectly ridiculous to lean out like that! What is it you're trying to see, anyway? Is monsieur trying to throw himself out of the window on account of the little shirtmaker on the entresol? On my word, she isn't worth the trouble! She's no great wonder; and then, monsieur won't have anything to show for the crick in his neck, for the girl never looks in this direction."
And the bachelor, irritated, but desirous none the less to deal gently with his maid, would reply: