All six of the young women who worked in the milliner’s shop slept in the house; two in a room adjoining the mistress’s apartment, and the other four in a room on the fifth floor, above Robineau’s. Mademoiselle Fifine was one of the four. Robineau was well aware that, in order to go to her room, Fifine must pass through the passageway; but she did not ordinarily go up until nine o’clock, and he could not wait until that hour to speak to the girl. Much the simplest way would have been to go into the shop and ask Mademoiselle Fifine to step outside for a moment; but that would have meant an irrevocable quarrel with his fair one; for, like all milliner’s apprentices, Fifine had her own code of morals; if she had lovers, it was only because all her companions had their pleasant little acquaintances, and because they would have made fun of her if she too had not had someone to take her out to walk on Sunday. But during the week, madame—that was the title that they bestowed on the mistress of the establishment—was very strict with her young ladies, and she was responsible for their virtue from eight in the morning till nine at night.
After coughing vainly in the passage, Robineau decided to go up to his room, in order to put away his portfolio and make preparations for his toilet. He climbed the four flights of a dark and dusty staircase, of a type not uncommon on Rue Saint-Honoré; he entered his apartment, which consisted of two small rooms, one of which served as waiting-room, wardrobe and kitchen, the other as bedroom, dressing-room and salon. The first was scantily furnished, but the second was decorated with more or less taste, and it was orderly and clean; in fact, everything was in its place—a rare thing in a bachelor’s quarters.
Robineau opened one of the drawers of his commode, took out his black dress coat and his dancing trousers, and to his delight, found a spotlessly white piqué waistcoat. He spread them all on the bed, then looked at himself complacently in the mirror over the mantel; and his mirror showed him, as usual, a coarse, bloated face, small black eyes, a large round nose, a small mouth, a low forehead, very thick light hair, and thin, compressed lips. Robineau considered it a charming face; he smiled at himself, assumed affected poses, bowed to himself, and exclaimed:
"I am very good-looking, and in full-dress I ought to produce a great effect."
After looking at himself in the mirror for several minutes, he returned to his commode, fumbled in the drawers, turned everything upside down, and cried:
"Evidently I have no silk stockings. If worse comes to worst, I might buy a pair—I still have twenty-three francs left from my month’s pay; but that would straiten me; if I want to risk a little at écarté, I can’t do it. I know well enough that if I should ask Alfred to lend me money, he wouldn’t refuse; but I don’t want to appear to be short, and, in truth, as I have some very fine silk stockings, I don’t see why I should buy others. Mademoiselle Fifine simply must return them; if not, it’s all over, we are out, and I give her no more guitar lessons. She will think twice; a girl doesn’t find every day a lover who plays the guitar and who is obliging enough to teach his sweetheart how to play."
Robineau took down a guitar that hung in a corner of the room, went to the open window looking on the courtyard, and hummed a ballad, accompanying himself on the instrument. When Fifine was in her room on the fifth floor, the guitar was ordinarily the signal which notified her that Robineau awaited her; but it was hardly possible to hear the music in the shop.
After he had sung for some time, Robineau looked again at his watch; he stamped the floor impatiently and was about to go down to the passage, when someone rang at his door.
"It is she! She must have heard me!" he cried as he ran to open the door. But instead of his charmer, he found a young solicitor’s clerk, whom he knew as the friend of one of Fifine’s shopmates.
"Have they come up?" inquired the young man, not entering the room, but simply thrusting his head forward to look.