"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."