"
"Bring your bill to me."
"Very good, monsieur," said the gardener, with a tinge of respect.
"Monsieur no doubt wants to see the mysterious lady."
"My good friend," said Godefroid, stiffly, "you forget yourself. Go
home now and bring fresh plants for those you are to take away. If you
can also supply me with good cream and fresh eggs I will take them,
and I will go this morning and take a look at your establishment."
"It is one of the finest in Paris, monsieur. I exhibit at the
Luxembourg. My garden, which covers three acres, is on the boulevard,
behind the garden of La Grande-Chaumiere."
"Very good, Monsieur Cartier. You are, I see, much richer than I. Have
some consideration for us, therefore. Who knows how soon we may have
mutual need of each other?"
The gardener went away, much puzzled as to who and what Godefroid
might be.
"And yet I was once just like that," thought Godefroid, blowing his
fire. "What a fine specimen of the bourgeois of to-day!--gossiping,
inquisitive, crazy for equality, jealous of his customers, furious at
not knowing why a poor sick woman stays in her room without being
seen; concealing his wealth, and yet vain enough to betray it when he
thinks it will put him above his neighbor. That man ought to be the
lieutenant of his company. I dare say he is. With what ease he plays
the scene of Monsieur Dimanche! A little more and I should have made a
friend of Monsieur Cartier.
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