The young poet gave his bouquet and his verses to the concierge, to be delivered, instructing him to say to the girl that she must read what was written on the paper. A little later, the poet's confrère also appeared with a modest bouquet; but his forte was vaudevilles rather than poetry, so that the offering which accompanied his flowers was a ballad, and he laid the same injunction on the concierge.
Next came the photographer, who sent a package of photographs of the most popular actors. It is well known that young working girls, as a general rule, have a pronounced penchant for actors. Our photographer had no doubt that his gift would be most acceptable, and he told the concierge to say to Mademoiselle Georgette that he would be highly flattered if he might be permitted to photograph her.
Next came the miniature painter, who sent a dainty pasteboard box on which he had painted a swarm of little cupids in exceedingly graceful attitudes. As he handed his box to the concierge, he said:
"You will not fail to assure Mademoiselle Georgette that the artist who executed all these cupids would esteem himself very fortunate if he might paint his neighbor's portrait free of charge, and in whatever costume may be most agreeable to her."
A few moments after the miniature painter, the young doctor appeared and handed the concierge a package, saying:
"Be kind enough to hand this to Mademoiselle Georgette, with my compliments; it contains mauve, linden leaves, and poppy seeds; they are all excellent to take when one has a cold, and it rarely happens that a person goes a whole year without a cold. You will say to the young lady that I solicit her permission to attend her."
Lastly, the old bachelor himself had purchased a box of candied fruit, without his maid-servant's knowledge. But he took care not to intrust his gift to the concierge, for if he did he knew that his servant would certainly be told of it. So he went out on the boulevard and found a little bootblack, to whom he handed his box and gave instructions where to deliver it; and as he did not choose to remain incognito, lest his pretty neighbor should attribute his gift to somebody else, he instructed his messenger to say to her:
"Your neighbor, Monsieur Renardin, sends you this box, with his compliments.—Above all things," he added, "don't stop at the concierge's lodge, and don't speak to him; go straight to Mademoiselle Georgette's room on the entresol. You are paid, so take nothing from her."
Affairs were in this condition when Monsieur de Mardeille sent his valet Frontin to Georgette's room. From early morning, the concierge, having received the presents one after another, had passed all his time going back and forth from his lodge to the entresol, where the young shirtmaker accepted without hesitation everything that was sent to her, simply saying to the concierge:
"Say to monsieur that I thank him."