His neighbors
would have continued neighborly had he allowed them, but he never let
himself be understood, and _les Americains_ are very droll anyhow; so,
as they could do nothing else, they cut him.
So exclusive he became that (though it may have been for economy) he
never admitted even a housemaid, but kept his apartments himself. Only
the merry serenaders, who in those times used to sing under the
balconies, would now and then give him a crumb of their feast for pure
fun's sake; and after a while, because they could not find out his full
name, called him, at hazard, George--but always prefixing Monsieur.
Afterward, when he began to be careless in his dress, and the fashion of
serenading had passed away, the commoner people dared to shorten the
title to "'Sieur George."
Many seasons came and went. The city changed like a growing boy;
gentility and fashion went uptown, but 'Sieur George still retained his
rooms. Every one knew him slightly, and bowed, but no one seemed to know
him well, unless it were a brace or so of those convivial fellows in
regulation-blue at little Fort St.
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