diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:16:29 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:16:29 -0700 |
| commit | 24b4baa4f4c8716c95718b4389556e15ab33ce7c (patch) | |
| tree | 7e8c3ae6538da686893da5951f82f67e6c3f507d /1069-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '1069-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 1069-h/1069-h.htm | 28698 |
1 files changed, 28698 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/1069-h/1069-h.htm b/1069-h/1069-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f1ba043 --- /dev/null +++ b/1069-h/1069-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,28698 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Four Short Stories, by Émile Zola</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1069 ***</div> + +<h1>Four Short Stories</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Émile Zola</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"><b>NANA</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0001">CHAPTER I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0002">CHAPTER II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0003">CHAPTER III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0004">CHAPTER IV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0005">CHAPTER V</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0006">CHAPTER VI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0007">CHAPTER VII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0008">CHAPTER VIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0009">CHAPTER IX</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0010">CHAPTER X</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0011">CHAPTER XI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0012">CHAPTER XII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0013">CHAPTER XIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0014">CHAPTER XIV</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0016"><b>THE MILLER’S DAUGHTER</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0015">CHAPTER I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0016">CHAPTER II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0017">CHAPTER III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0018">CHAPTER IV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0019">CHAPTER V</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0022"><b>CAPTAIN BURLE</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0020">CHAPTER I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0021">CHAPTER II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0022">CHAPTER III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0023">CHAPTER IV</a><br /><br /></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2H_4_0027"><b>THE DEATH OF OLIVIER BECAILLE</b></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0024">CHAPTER I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0025">CHAPTER II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0026">CHAPTER III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0027">CHAPTER IV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0028">CHAPTER V</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"></a> NANA</h2> + +<h3> by Émile Zola</h3> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"></a> CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p> +At nine o’clock in the evening the body of the house at the Theatres des +Variétés was still all but empty. A few individuals, it is true, were sitting +quietly waiting in the balcony and stalls, but these were lost, as it were, +among the ranges of seats whose coverings of cardinal velvet loomed in the +subdued light of the dimly burning luster. A shadow enveloped the great red +splash of the curtain, and not a sound came from the stage, the unlit +footlights, the scattered desks of the orchestra. It was only high overhead in +the third gallery, round the domed ceiling where nude females and children flew +in heavens which had turned green in the gaslight, that calls and laughter were +audible above a continuous hubbub of voices, and heads in women’s and +workmen’s caps were ranged, row above row, under the wide-vaulted bays +with their gilt-surrounding adornments. Every few seconds an attendant would +make her appearance, bustling along with tickets in her hand and piloting in +front of her a gentleman and a lady, who took their seats, he in his evening +dress, she sitting slim and undulant beside him while her eyes wandered slowly +round the house. +</p> + +<p> +Two young men appeared in the stalls; they kept standing and looked about them. +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t I say so, Hector?” cried the elder of the two, a tall +fellow with little black mustaches. “We’re too early! You might +quite well have allowed me to finish my cigar.” +</p> + +<p> +An attendant was passing. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Monsieur Fauchery,” she said familiarly, “it won’t +begin for half an hour yet!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why do they advertise for nine o’clock?” muttered +Hector, whose long thin face assumed an expression of vexation. “Only +this morning Clarisse, who’s in the piece, swore that they’d begin +at nine o’clock punctually.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment they remained silent and, looking upward, scanned the shadowy +boxes. But the green paper with which these were hung rendered them more +shadowy still. Down below, under the dress circle, the lower boxes were buried +in utter night. In those on the second tier there was only one stout lady, who +was stranded, as it were, on the velvet-covered balustrade in front of her. On +the right hand and on the left, between lofty pilasters, the stage boxes, +bedraped with long-fringed scalloped hangings, remained untenanted. The house +with its white and gold, relieved by soft green tones, lay only half disclosed +to view, as though full of a fine dust shed from the little jets of flame in +the great glass luster. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you get your stage box for Lucy?” asked Hector. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied his companion, “but I had some trouble to get +it. Oh, there’s no danger of Lucy coming too early!” +</p> + +<p> +He stifled a slight yawn; then after a pause: +</p> + +<p> +“You’re in luck’s way, you are, since you haven’t been +at a first night before. The Blonde Venus will be the event of the year. People +have been talking about it for six months. Oh, such music, my dear boy! Such a +sly dog, Bordenave! He knows his business and has kept this for the exhibition +season.” Hector was religiously attentive. He asked a question. +</p> + +<p> +“And Nana, the new star who’s going to play Venus, d’you know +her?” +</p> + +<p> +“There you are; you’re beginning again!” cried Fauchery, +casting up his arms. “Ever since this morning people have been dreeing me +with Nana. I’ve met more than twenty people, and it’s Nana here and +Nana there! What do I know? Am I acquainted with all the light ladies in Paris? +Nana is an invention of Bordenave’s! It must be a fine one!” +</p> + +<p> +He calmed himself, but the emptiness of the house, the dim light of the luster, +the churchlike sense of self-absorption which the place inspired, full as it +was of whispering voices and the sound of doors banging—all these got on +his nerves. +</p> + +<p> +“No, by Jove,” he said all of a sudden, “one’s hair +turns gray here. I—I’m going out. Perhaps we shall find Bordenave +downstairs. He’ll give us information about things.” +</p> + +<p> +Downstairs in the great marble-paved entrance hall, where the box office was, +the public were beginning to show themselves. Through the three open gates +might have been observed, passing in, the ardent life of the boulevards, which +were all astir and aflare under the fine April night. The sound of carriage +wheels kept stopping suddenly; carriage doors were noisily shut again, and +people began entering in small groups, taking their stand before the ticket +bureau and climbing the double flight of stairs at the end of the hall, up +which the women loitered with swaying hips. Under the crude gaslight, round the +pale, naked walls of the entrance hall, which with its scanty First Empire +decorations suggested the peristyle of a toy temple, there was a flaring +display of lofty yellow posters bearing the name of “Nana” in great +black letters. Gentlemen, who seemed to be glued to the entry, were reading +them; others, standing about, were engaged in talk, barring the doors of the +house in so doing, while hard by the box office a thickset man with an +extensive, close-shaven visage was giving rough answers to such as pressed to +engage seats. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s Bordenave,” said Fauchery as he came down the +stairs. But the manager had already seen him. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah! You’re a nice fellow!” he shouted at him from a +distance. “That’s the way you give me a notice, is it? Why, I +opened my Figaro this morning—never a word!” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a bit,” replied Fauchery. “I certainly must make the +acquaintance of your Nana before talking about her. Besides, I’ve made no +promises.” +</p> + +<p> +Then to put an end to the discussion, he introduced his cousin, M. Hector de la +Faloise, a young man who had come to finish his education in Paris. The manager +took the young man’s measure at a glance. But Hector returned his +scrutiny with deep interest. This, then, was that Bordenave, that showman of +the sex who treated women like a convict overseer, that clever fellow who was +always at full steam over some advertising dodge, that shouting, spitting, +thigh-slapping fellow, that cynic with the soul of a policeman! Hector was +under the impression that he ought to discover some amiable observation for the +occasion. +</p> + +<p> +“Your theater—” he began in dulcet tones. +</p> + +<p> +Bordenave interrupted him with a savage phrase, as becomes a man who dotes on +frank situations. +</p> + +<p> +“Call it my brothel!” +</p> + +<p> +At this Fauchery laughed approvingly, while La Faloise stopped with his pretty +speech strangled in his throat, feeling very much shocked and striving to +appear as though he enjoyed the phrase. The manager had dashed off to shake +hands with a dramatic critic whose column had considerable influence. When he +returned La Faloise was recovering. He was afraid of being treated as a +provincial if he showed himself too much nonplused. +</p> + +<p> +“I have been told,” he began again, longing positively to find +something to say, “that Nana has a delicious voice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nana?” cried the manager, shrugging his shoulders. “The +voice of a squirt!” +</p> + +<p> +The young man made haste to add: +</p> + +<p> +“Besides being a first-rate comedian!” +</p> + +<p> +“She? Why she’s a lump! She has no notion what to do with her hands +and feet.” +</p> + +<p> +La Faloise blushed a little. He had lost his bearings. He stammered: +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t have missed this first representation tonight for the +world. I was aware that your theater—” +</p> + +<p> +“Call it my brothel,” Bordenave again interpolated with the frigid +obstinacy of a man convinced. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Fauchery, with extreme calmness, was looking at the women as they +came in. He went to his cousin’s rescue when he saw him all at sea and +doubtful whether to laugh or to be angry. +</p> + +<p> +“Do be pleasant to Bordenave—call his theater what he wishes you +to, since it amuses him. And you, my dear fellow, don’t keep us waiting +about for nothing. If your Nana neither sings nor acts you’ll find +you’ve made a blunder, that’s all. It’s what I’m afraid +of, if the truth be told.” +</p> + +<p> +“A blunder! A blunder!” shouted the manager, and his face grew +purple. “Must a woman know how to act and sing? Oh, my chicken, +you’re too STOOPID. Nana has other good points, by +heaven!—something which is as good as all the other things put together. +I’ve smelled it out; it’s deuced pronounced with her, or I’ve +got the scent of an idiot. You’ll see, you’ll see! She’s only +got to come on, and all the house will be gaping at her.” +</p> + +<p> +He had held up his big hands which were trembling under the influence of his +eager enthusiasm, and now, having relieved his feelings, he lowered his voice +and grumbled to himself: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she’ll go far! Oh yes, s’elp me, she’ll go far! A +skin—oh, what a skin she’s got!” +</p> + +<p> +Then as Fauchery began questioning him he consented to enter into a detailed +explanation, couched in phraseology so crude that Hector de la Faloise felt +slightly disgusted. He had been thick with Nana, and he was anxious to start +her on the stage. Well, just about that time he was in search of a Venus. +He—he never let a woman encumber him for any length of time; he preferred +to let the public enjoy the benefit of her forthwith. But there was a deuce of +a row going on in his shop, which had been turned topsy-turvy by that big +damsel’s advent. Rose Mignon, his star, a comic actress of much subtlety +and an adorable singer, was daily threatening to leave him in the lurch, for +she was furious and guessed the presence of a rival. And as for the bill, good +God! What a noise there had been about it all! It had ended by his deciding to +print the names of the two actresses in the same-sized type. But it +wouldn’t do to bother him. Whenever any of his little women, as he called +them—Simonne or Clarisse, for instance—wouldn’t go the way he +wanted her to he just up with his foot and caught her one in the rear. +Otherwise life was impossible. Oh yes, he sold ’em; HE knew what they +fetched, the wenches! +</p> + +<p> +“Tut!” he cried, breaking off short. “Mignon and Steiner. +Always together. You know, Steiner’s getting sick of Rose; that’s +why the husband dogs his steps now for fear of his slipping away.” +</p> + +<p> +On the pavement outside, the row of gas jets flaring on the cornice of the +theater cast a patch of brilliant light. Two small trees, violently green, +stood sharply out against it, and a column gleamed in such vivid illumination +that one could read the notices thereon at a distance, as though in broad +daylight, while the dense night of the boulevard beyond was dotted with lights +above the vague outline of an ever-moving crowd. Many men did not enter the +theater at once but stayed outside to talk while finishing their cigars under +the rays of the line of gas jets, which shed a sallow pallor on their faces and +silhouetted their short black shadows on the asphalt. Mignon, a very tall, very +broad fellow, with the square-shaped head of a strong man at a fair, was +forcing a passage through the midst of the groups and dragging on his arm the +banker Steiner, an exceedingly small man with a corporation already in evidence +and a round face framed in a setting of beard which was already growing gray. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Bordenave to the banker, “you met her yesterday +in my office.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! It was she, was it?” ejaculated Steiner. “I suspected as +much. Only I was coming out as she was going in, and I scarcely caught a +glimpse of her.” +</p> + +<p> +Mignon was listening with half-closed eyelids and nervously twisting a great +diamond ring round his finger. He had quite understood that Nana was in +question. Then as Bordenave was drawing a portrait of his new star, which lit a +flame in the eyes of the banker, he ended by joining in the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, let her alone, my dear fellow; she’s a low lot! The public +will show her the door in quick time. Steiner, my laddie, you know that my wife +is waiting for you in her box.” +</p> + +<p> +He wanted to take possession of him again. But Steiner would not quit +Bordenave. In front of them a stream of people was crowding and crushing +against the ticket office, and there was a din of voices, in the midst of which +the name of Nana sounded with all the melodious vivacity of its two syllables. +The men who stood planted in front of the notices kept spelling it out loudly; +others, in an interrogative tone, uttered it as they passed; while the women, +at once restless and smiling, repeated it softly with an air of surprise. +Nobody knew Nana. Whence had Nana fallen? And stories and jokes, whispered from +ear to ear, went the round of the crowd. The name was a caress in itself; it +was a pet name, the very familiarity of which suited every lip. Merely through +enunciating it thus, the throng worked itself into a state of gaiety and became +highly good natured. A fever of curiosity urged it forward, that kind of +Parisian curiosity which is as violent as an access of positive unreason. +Everybody wanted to see Nana. A lady had the flounce of her dress torn off; a +man lost his hat. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’re asking me too many questions about it!” cried +Bordenave, whom a score of men were besieging with their queries. +“You’re going to see her, and I’m off; they want me.” +</p> + +<p> +He disappeared, enchanted at having fired his public. Mignon shrugged his +shoulders, reminding Steiner that Rose was awaiting him in order to show him +the costume she was about to wear in the first act. +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove! There’s Lucy out there, getting down from her +carriage,” said La Faloise to Fauchery. +</p> + +<p> +It was, in fact, Lucy Stewart, a plain little woman, some forty years old, with +a disproportionately long neck, a thin, drawn face, a heavy mouth, but withal +of such brightness, such graciousness of manner, that she was really very +charming. She was bringing with her Caroline Hequet and her +mother—Caroline a woman of a cold type of beauty, the mother a person of +a most worthy demeanor, who looked as if she were stuffed with straw. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re coming with us? I’ve kept a place for you,” she +said to Fauchery. “Oh, decidedly not! To see nothing!” he made +answer. “I’ve a stall; I prefer being in the stalls.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucy grew nettled. Did he not dare show himself in her company? Then, suddenly +restraining herself and skipping to another topic: +</p> + +<p> +“Why haven’t you told me that you knew Nana?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nana! I’ve never set eyes on her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Honor bright? I’ve been told that you’ve been to bed with +her.” +</p> + +<p> +But Mignon, coming in front of them, his finger to his lips, made them a sign +to be silent. And when Lucy questioned him he pointed out a young man who was +passing and murmured: +</p> + +<p> +“Nana’s fancy man.” +</p> + +<p> +Everybody looked at him. He was a pretty fellow. Fauchery recognized him; it +was Daguenet, a young man who had run through three hundred thousand francs in +the pursuit of women and who now was dabbling in stocks, in order from time to +time to treat them to bouquets and dinners. Lucy made the discovery that he had +fine eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, there’s Blanche!” she cried. “It’s she who +told me that you had been to bed with Nana.” +</p> + +<p> +Blanche de Sivry, a great fair girl, whose good-looking face showed signs of +growing fat, made her appearance in the company of a spare, sedulously +well-groomed and extremely distinguished man. +</p> + +<p> +“The Count Xavier de Vandeuvres,” Fauchery whispered in his +companion’s ear. +</p> + +<p> +The count and the journalist shook hands, while Blanche and Lucy entered into a +brisk, mutual explanation. One of them in blue, the other in rose-pink, they +stood blocking the way with their deeply flounced skirts, and Nana’s name +kept repeating itself so shrilly in their conversation that people began to +listen to them. The Count de Vandeuvres carried Blanche off. But by this time +Nana’s name was echoing more loudly than ever round the four walls of the +entrance hall amid yearnings sharpened by delay. Why didn’t the play +begin? The men pulled out their watches; late-comers sprang from their +conveyances before these had fairly drawn up; the groups left the sidewalk, +where the passers-by were crossing the now-vacant space of gaslit pavement, +craning their necks, as they did so, in order to get a peep into the theater. A +street boy came up whistling and planted himself before a notice at the door, +then cried out, “Woa, Nana!” in the voice of a tipsy man and hied +on his way with a rolling gait and a shuffling of his old boots. A laugh had +arisen at this. Gentlemen of unimpeachable appearance repeated: “Nana, +woa, Nana!” People were crushing; a dispute arose at the ticket office, +and there was a growing clamor caused by the hum of voices calling on Nana, +demanding Nana in one of those accesses of silly facetiousness and sheer +animalism which pass over mobs. +</p> + +<p> +But above all the din the bell that precedes the rise of the curtain became +audible. “They’ve rung; they’ve rung!” The rumor +reached the boulevard, and thereupon followed a stampede, everyone wanting to +pass in, while the servants of the theater increased their forces. Mignon, with +an anxious air, at last got hold of Steiner again, the latter not having been +to see Rose’s costume. At the very first tinkle of the bell La Faloise +had cloven a way through the crowd, pulling Fauchery with him, so as not to +miss the opening scene. But all this eagerness on the part of the public +irritated Lucy Stewart. What brutes were these people to be pushing women like +that! She stayed in the rear of them all with Caroline Hequet and her mother. +The entrance hall was now empty, while beyond it was still heard the long-drawn +rumble of the boulevard. +</p> + +<p> +“As though they were always funny, those pieces of theirs!” Lucy +kept repeating as she climbed the stair. +</p> + +<p> +In the house Fauchery and La Faloise, in front of their stalls, were gazing +about them anew. By this time the house was resplendent. High jets of gas +illumined the great glass chandelier with a rustling of yellow and rosy flames, +which rained down a stream of brilliant light from dome to floor. The cardinal +velvets of the seats were shot with hues of lake, while all the gilding shone +again, the soft green decorations chastening its effect beneath the too-decided +paintings of the ceiling. The footlights were turned up and with a vivid flood +of brilliance lit up the curtain, the heavy purple drapery of which had all the +richness befitting a palace in a fairy tale and contrasted with the meanness of +the proscenium, where cracks showed the plaster under the gilding. The place +was already warm. At their music stands the orchestra were tuning their +instruments amid a delicate trilling of flutes, a stifled tooting of horns, a +singing of violin notes, which floated forth amid the increasing uproar of +voices. All the spectators were talking, jostling, settling themselves in a +general assault upon seats; and the hustling rush in the side passages was now +so violent that every door into the house was laboriously admitting the +inexhaustible flood of people. There were signals, rustlings of fabrics, a +continual march past of skirts and head dresses, accentuated by the black hue +of a dress coat or a surtout. Notwithstanding this, the rows of seats were +little by little getting filled up, while here and there a light toilet stood +out from its surroundings, a head with a delicate profile bent forward under +its chignon, where flashed the lightning of a jewel. In one of the boxes the +tip of a bare shoulder glimmered like snowy silk. Other ladies, sitting at +ease, languidly fanned themselves, following with their gaze the pushing +movements of the crowd, while young gentlemen, standing up in the stalls, their +waistcoats cut very low, gardenias in their buttonholes, pointed their opera +glasses with gloved finger tips. +</p> + +<p> +It was now that the two cousins began searching for the faces of those they +knew. Mignon and Steiner were together in a lower box, sitting side by side +with their arms leaning for support on the velvet balustrade. Blanche de Sivry +seemed to be in sole possession of a stage box on the level of the stalls. But +La Faloise examined Daguenet before anyone else, he being in occupation of a +stall two rows in front of his own. Close to him, a very young man, seventeen +years old at the outside, some truant from college, it may be, was straining +wide a pair of fine eyes such as a cherub might have owned. Fauchery smiled +when he looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is that lady in the balcony?” La Faloise asked suddenly. +“The lady with a young girl in blue beside her.” +</p> + +<p> +He pointed out a large woman who was excessively tight-laced, a woman who had +been a blonde and had now become white and yellow of tint, her broad face, +reddened with paint, looking puffy under a rain of little childish curls. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Gaga,” was Fauchery’s simple reply, and as this +name seemed to astound his cousin, he added: +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know Gaga? She was the delight of the early years of +Louis Philippe. Nowadays she drags her daughter about with her wherever she +goes.” +</p> + +<p> +La Faloise never once glanced at the young girl. The sight of Gaga moved him; +his eyes did not leave her again. He still found her very good looking but he +dared not say so. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the conductor lifted his violin bow and the orchestra attacked the +overture. People still kept coming in; the stir and noise were on the increase. +Among that public, peculiar to first nights and never subject to change, there +were little subsections composed of intimate friends, who smilingly forgathered +again. Old first-nighters, hat on head, seemed familiar and quite at ease and +kept exchanging salutations. All Paris was there, the Paris of literature, of +finance and of pleasure. There were many journalists, several authors, a number +of stock-exchange people and more courtesans than honest women. It was a +singularly mixed world, composed, as it was, of all the talents and tarnished +by all the vices, a world where the same fatigue and the same fever played over +every face. Fauchery, whom his cousin was questioning, showed him the boxes +devoted to the newspapers and to the clubs and then named the dramatic +critics—a lean, dried-up individual with thin, spiteful lips and, chief +of all, a big fellow with a good-natured expression, lolling on the shoulder of +his neighbor, a young miss over whom he brooded with tender and paternal eyes. +</p> + +<p> +But he interrupted himself on seeing La Faloise in the act of bowing to some +persons who occupied the box opposite. He appeared surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“What?” he queried. “You know the Count Muffat de +Beuville?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, for a long time back,” replied Hector. “The Muffats had +a property near us. I often go to their house. The count’s with his wife +and his father-in-law, the Marquis de Chouard.” +</p> + +<p> +And with some vanity—for he was happy in his cousin’s +astonishment—he entered into particulars. The marquis was a councilor of +state; the count had recently been appointed chamberlain to the empress. +Fauchery, who had caught up his opera glass, looked at the countess, a plump +brunette with a white skin and fine dark eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall present me to them between the acts,” he ended by +saying. “I have already met the count, but I should like to go to them on +their Tuesdays.” +</p> + +<p> +Energetic cries of “Hush” came from the upper galleries. The +overture had begun, but people were still coming in. Late arrivals were +obliging whole rows of spectators to rise; the doors of boxes were banging; +loud voices were heard disputing in the passages. And there was no cessation of +the sound of many conversations, a sound similar to the loud twittering of +talkative sparrows at close of day. All was in confusion; the house was a +medley of heads and arms which moved to and fro, their owners seating +themselves or trying to make themselves comfortable or, on the other hand, +excitedly endeavoring to remain standing so as to take a final look round. The +cry of “Sit down, sit down!” came fiercely from the obscure depths +of the pit. A shiver of expectation traversed the house: at last people were +going to make the acquaintance of this famous Nana with whom Paris had been +occupying itself for a whole week! +</p> + +<p> +Little by little, however, the buzz of talk dwindled softly down among +occasional fresh outbursts of rough speech. And amid this swooning murmur, +these perishing sighs of sound, the orchestra struck up the small, lively notes +of a waltz with a vagabond rhythm bubbling with roguish laughter. The public +were titillated; they were already on the grin. But the gang of clappers in the +foremost rows of the pit applauded furiously. The curtain rose. +</p> + +<p> +“By George!” exclaimed La Faloise, still talking away. +“There’s a man with Lucy.” +</p> + +<p> +He was looking at the stage box on the second tier to his right, the front of +which Caroline and Lucy were occupying. At the back of this box were observable +the worthy countenance of Caroline’s mother and the side face of a tall +young man with a noble head of light hair and an irreproachable getup. +</p> + +<p> +“Do look!” La Faloise again insisted. “There’s a man +there.” +</p> + +<p> +Fauchery decided to level his opera glass at the stage box. But he turned round +again directly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s Labordette,” he muttered in a careless voice, as +though that gentle man’s presence ought to strike all the world as though +both natural and immaterial. +</p> + +<p> +Behind the cousins people shouted “Silence!” They had to cease +talking. A motionless fit now seized the house, and great stretches of heads, +all erect and attentive, sloped away from stalls to topmost gallery. The first +act of the Blonde Venus took place in Olympus, a pasteboard Olympus, with +clouds in the wings and the throne of Jupiter on the right of the stage. First +of all Iris and Ganymede, aided by a troupe of celestial attendants, sang a +chorus while they arranged the seats of the gods for the council. Once again +the prearranged applause of the clappers alone burst forth; the public, a +little out of their depth, sat waiting. Nevertheless, La Faloise had clapped +Clarisse Besnus, one of Bordenave’s little women, who played Iris in a +soft blue dress with a great scarf of the seven colors of the rainbow looped +round her waist. +</p> + +<p> +“You know, she draws up her chemise to put that on,” he said to +Fauchery, loud enough to be heard by those around him. “We tried the +trick this morning. It was all up under her arms and round the small of her +back.” +</p> + +<p> +But a slight rustling movement ran through the house; Rose Mignon had just come +on the stage as Diana. Now though she had neither the face nor the figure for +the part, being thin and dark and of the adorable type of ugliness peculiar to +a Parisian street child, she nonetheless appeared charming and as though she +were a satire on the personage she represented. Her song at her entrance on the +stage was full of lines quaint enough to make you cry with laughter and of +complaints about Mars, who was getting ready to desert her for the +companionship of Venus. She sang it with a chaste reserve so full of sprightly +suggestiveness that the public warmed amain. The husband and Steiner, sitting +side by side, were laughing complaisantly, and the whole house broke out in a +roar when Prullière, that great favorite, appeared as a general, a masquerade +Mars, decked with an enormous plume and dragging along a sword, the hilt of +which reached to his shoulder. As for him, he had had enough of Diana; she had +been a great deal too coy with him, he averred. Thereupon Diana promised to +keep a sharp eye on him and to be revenged. The duet ended with a comic yodel +which Prullière delivered very amusingly with the yell of an angry tomcat. He +had about him all the entertaining fatuity of a young leading gentleman whose +love affairs prosper, and he rolled around the most swaggering glances, which +excited shrill feminine laughter in the boxes. +</p> + +<p> +Then the public cooled again, for the ensuing scenes were found tiresome. Old +Bosc, an imbecile Jupiter with head crushed beneath the weight of an immense +crown, only just succeeded in raising a smile among his audience when he had a +domestic altercation with Juno on the subject of the cook’s accounts. The +march past of the gods, Neptune, Pluto, Minerva and the rest, was well-nigh +spoiling everything. People grew impatient; there was a restless, slowly +growing murmur; the audience ceased to take an interest in the performance and +looked round at the house. Lucy began laughing with Labordette; the Count de +Vandeuvres was craning his neck in conversation behind Blanche’s sturdy +shoulders, while Fauchery, out of the corners of his eyes, took stock of the +Muffats, of whom the count appeared very serious, as though he had not +understood the allusions, and the countess smiled vaguely, her eyes lost in +reverie. But on a sudden, in this uncomfortable state of things, the applause +of the clapping contingent rattled out with the regularity of platoon firing. +People turned toward the stage. Was it Nana at last? This Nana made one wait +with a vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +It was a deputation of mortals whom Ganymede and Iris had introduced, +respectable middle-class persons, deceived husbands, all of them, and they came +before the master of the gods to proffer a complaint against Venus, who was +assuredly inflaming their good ladies with an excess of ardor. The chorus, in +quaint, dolorous tones, broken by silences full of pantomimic admissions, +caused great amusement. A neat phrase went the round of the house: “The +cuckolds’ chorus, the cuckolds’ chorus,” and it “caught +on,” for there was an encore. The singers’ heads were droll; their +faces were discovered to be in keeping with the phrase, especially that of a +fat man which was as round as the moon. Meanwhile Vulcan arrived in a towering +rage, demanding back his wife who had slipped away three days ago. The chorus +resumed their plaint, calling on Vulcan, the god of the cuckolds. +Vulcan’s part was played by Fontan, a comic actor of talent, at once +vulgar and original, and he had a role of the wildest whimsicality and was got +up as a village blacksmith, fiery red wig, bare arms tattooed with +arrow-pierced hearts and all the rest of it. A woman’s voice cried in a +very high key, “Oh, isn’t he ugly?” and all the ladies +laughed and applauded. +</p> + +<p> +Then followed a scene which seemed interminable. Jupiter in the course of it +seemed never to be going to finish assembling the Council of Gods in order to +submit thereto the deceived husband’s requests. And still no Nana! Was +the management keeping Nana for the fall of the curtain then? So long a period +of expectancy had ended by annoying the public. Their murmurings began again. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s going badly,” said Mignon radiantly to Steiner. +“She’ll get a pretty reception; you’ll see!” +</p> + +<p> +At that very moment the clouds at the back of the stage were cloven apart and +Venus appeared. Exceedingly tall, exceedingly strong, for her eighteen years, +Nana, in her goddess’s white tunic and with her light hair simply flowing +unfastened over her shoulders, came down to the footlights with a quiet +certainty of movement and a laugh of greeting for the public and struck up her +grand ditty: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“When Venus roams at eventide.” +</p> + +<p> +From the second verse onward people looked at each other all over the house. +Was this some jest, some wager on Bordenave’s part? Never had a more +tuneless voice been heard or one managed with less art. Her manager judged of +her excellently; she certainly sang like a squirt. Nay, more, she didn’t +even know how to deport herself on the stage: she thrust her arms in front of +her while she swayed her whole body to and fro in a manner which struck the +audience as unbecoming and disagreeable. Cries of “Oh, oh!” were +already rising in the pit and the cheap places. There was a sound of whistling, +too, when a voice in the stalls, suggestive of a molting cockerel, cried out +with great conviction: +</p> + +<p> +“That’s very smart!” +</p> + +<p> +All the house looked round. It was the cherub, the truant from the +boarding-school, who sat with his fine eyes very wide open and his fair face +glowing very hotly at sight of Nana. When he saw everybody turning toward him +he grew extremely red at the thought of having thus unconsciously spoken aloud. +Daguenet, his neighbor, smilingly examined him; the public laughed, as though +disarmed and no longer anxious to hiss; while the young gentlemen in white +gloves, fascinated in their turn by Nana’s gracious contours, lolled back +in their seats and applauded. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s it! Well done! Bravo!” +</p> + +<p> +Nana, in the meantime, seeing the house laughing, began to laugh herself. The +gaiety of all redoubled itself. She was an amusing creature, all the same, was +that fine girl! Her laughter made a love of a little dimple appear in her chin. +She stood there waiting, not bored in the least, familiar with her audience, +falling into step with them at once, as though she herself were admitting with +a wink that she had not two farthings’ worth of talent but that it did +not matter at all, that, in fact, she had other good points. And then after +having made a sign to the conductor which plainly signified, “Go ahead, +old boy!” she began her second verse: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“’Tis Venus who at midnight passes—” +</p> + +<p> +Still the same acidulated voice, only that now it tickled the public in the +right quarter so deftly that momentarily it caused them to give a little shiver +of pleasure. Nana still smiled her smile: it lit up her little red mouth and +shone in her great eyes, which were of the clearest blue. When she came to +certain rather lively verses a delicate sense of enjoyment made her tilt her +nose, the rosy nostrils of which lifted and fell, while a bright flush suffused +her cheeks. She still swung herself up and down, for she only knew how to do +that. And the trick was no longer voted ugly; on the contrary, the men raised +their opera glasses. When she came to the end of a verse her voice completely +failed her, and she was well aware that she never would get through with it. +Thereupon, rather than fret herself, she kicked up her leg, which forthwith was +roundly outlined under her diaphanous tunic, bent sharply backward, so that her +bosom was thrown upward and forward, and stretched her arms out. Applause burst +forth on all sides. In the twinkling of an eye she had turned on her heel and +was going up the stage, presenting the nape of her neck to the +spectators’ gaze, a neck where the red-gold hair showed like some +animal’s fell. Then the plaudits became frantic. +</p> + +<p> +The close of the act was not so exciting. Vulcan wanted to slap Venus. The gods +held a consultation and decided to go and hold an inquiry on earth before +granting the deceived husband satisfaction. It was then that Diana surprised a +tender conversation between Venus and Mars and vowed that she would not take +her eyes off them during the whole of the voyage. There was also a scene where +Love, played by a little twelve-year-old chit, answered every question put to +her with “Yes, Mamma! No, Mamma!” in a winy-piny tone, her fingers +in her nose. At last Jupiter, with the severity of a master who is growing +cross, shut Love up in a dark closet, bidding her conjugate the verb “I +love” twenty times. The finale was more appreciated: it was a chorus +which both troupe and orchestra performed with great brilliancy. But the +curtain once down, the clappers tried in vain to obtain a call, while the whole +house was already up and making for the doors. +</p> + +<p> +The crowd trampled and jostled, jammed, as it were, between the rows of seats, +and in so doing exchanged expressions. One phrase only went round: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s idiotic.” A critic was saying that it would be +one’s duty to do a pretty bit of slashing. The piece, however, mattered +very little, for people were talking about Nana before everything else. +Fauchery and La Faloise, being among the earliest to emerge, met Steiner and +Mignon in the passage outside the stalls. In this gaslit gut of a place, which +was as narrow and circumscribed as a gallery in a mine, one was well-nigh +suffocated. They stopped a moment at the foot of the stairs on the right of the +house, protected by the final curve of the balusters. The audience from the +cheap places were coming down the steps with a continuous tramp of heavy boots; +a stream of black dress coats was passing, while an attendant was making every +possible effort to protect a chair, on which she had piled up coats and cloaks, +from the onward pushing of the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely I know her,” cried Steiner, the moment he perceived +Fauchery. “I’m certain I’ve seen her somewhere—at the +casino, I imagine, and she got herself taken up there—she was so +drunk.” +</p> + +<p> +“As for me,” said the journalist, “I don’t quite know +where it was. I am like you; I certainly have come across her.” +</p> + +<p> +He lowered his voice and asked, laughing: +</p> + +<p> +“At the Tricons’, perhaps.” +</p> + +<p> +“Egad, it was in a dirty place,” Mignon declared. He seemed +exasperated. “It’s disgusting that the public give such a reception +to the first trollop that comes by. There’ll soon be no more decent women +on the stage. Yes, I shall end by forbidding Rose to play.” +</p> + +<p> +Fauchery could not restrain a smile. Meanwhile the downward shuffle of the +heavy shoes on the steps did not cease, and a little man in a workman’s +cap was heard crying in a drawling voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh my, she ain’t no wopper! There’s some pickings +there!” +</p> + +<p> +In the passage two young men, delicately curled and formally resplendent in +turndown collars and the rest, were disputing together. One of them was +repeating the words, “Beastly, beastly!” without stating any +reasons; the other was replying with the words, “Stunning, +stunning!” as though he, too, disdained all argument. +</p> + +<p> +La Faloise declared her to be quite the thing; only he ventured to opine that +she would be better still if she were to cultivate her voice. Steiner, who was +no longer listening, seemed to awake with a start. Whatever happens, one must +wait, he thought. Perhaps everything will be spoiled in the following acts. The +public had shown complaisance, but it was certainly not yet taken by storm. +Mignon swore that the piece would never finish, and when Fauchery and La +Faloise left them in order to go up to the foyer he took Steiner’s arm +and, leaning hard against his shoulder, whispered in his ear: +</p> + +<p> +“You’re going to see my wife’s costume for the second act, +old fellow. It IS just blackguardly.” +</p> + +<p> +Upstairs in the foyer three glass chandeliers burned with a brilliant light. +The two cousins hesitated an instant before entering, for the widely opened +glazed doors afforded a view right through the gallery—a view of a +surging sea of heads, which two currents, as it were, kept in a continuous +eddying movement. But they entered after all. Five or six groups of men, +talking very loudly and gesticulating, were obstinately discussing the play +amid these violent interruptions; others were filing round, their heels, as +they turned, sounding sharply on the waxed floor. To right and left, between +columns of variegated imitation marble, women were sitting on benches covered +with red velvet and viewing the passing movement of the crowd with an air of +fatigue as though the heat had rendered them languid. In the lofty mirrors +behind them one saw the reflection of their chignons. At the end of the room, +in front of the bar, a man with a huge corporation was drinking a glass of +fruit syrup. +</p> + +<p> +But Fauchery, in order to breathe more freely, had gone to the balcony. La +Faloise, who was studying the photographs of actresses hung in frames +alternating with the mirrors between the columns, ended by following him. They +had extinguished the line of gas jets on the facade of the theater, and it was +dark and very cool on the balcony, which seemed to them unoccupied. Solitary +and enveloped in shadow, a young man was standing, leaning his arms on the +stone balustrade, in the recess to the right. He was smoking a cigarette, of +which the burning end shone redly. Fauchery recognized Daguenet. They shook +hands warmly. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you after there, my dear fellow?” asked the journalist. +“You’re hiding yourself in holes and crannies—you, a man who +never leaves the stalls on a first night!” +</p> + +<p> +“But I’m smoking, you see,” replied Daguenet. +</p> + +<p> +Then Fauchery, to put him out of countenance: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well! What’s your opinion of the new actress? She’s +being roughly handled enough in the passages.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” muttered Daguenet. “They’re people whom +she’ll have had nothing to do with!” +</p> + +<p> +That was the sum of his criticism of Nana’s talent. La Faloise leaned +forward and looked down at the boulevard. Over against them the windows of a +hotel and of a club were brightly lit up, while on the pavement below a dark +mass of customers occupied the tables of the Café de Madrid. Despite the +lateness of the hour the crowd were still crushing and being crushed; people +were advancing with shortened step; a throng was constantly emerging from the +Passage Jouffroy; individuals stood waiting five or six minutes before they +could cross the roadway, to such a distance did the string of carriages extend. +</p> + +<p> +“What a moving mass! And what a noise!” La Faloise kept +reiterating, for Paris still astonished him. +</p> + +<p> +The bell rang for some time; the foyer emptied. There was a hurrying of people +in the passages. The curtain was already up when whole bands of spectators +re-entered the house amid the irritated expressions of those who were once more +in their places. Everyone took his seat again with an animated look and renewed +attention. La Faloise directed his first glance in Gaga’s direction, but +he was dumfounded at seeing by her side the tall fair man who but recently had +been in Lucy’s stage box. +</p> + +<p> +“What IS that man’s name?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Fauchery failed to observe him. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah yes, it’s Labordette,” he said at last with the same +careless movement. The scenery of the second act came as a surprise. It +represented a suburban Shrove Tuesday dance at the Boule Noire. Masqueraders +were trolling a catch, the chorus of which was accompanied with a tapping of +their heels. This ’Arryish departure, which nobody had in the least +expected, caused so much amusement that the house encored the catch. And it was +to this entertainment that the divine band, let astray by Iris, who falsely +bragged that he knew the Earth well, were now come in order to proceed with +their inquiry. They had put on disguises so as to preserve their incognito. +Jupiter came on the stage as King Dagobert, with his breeches inside out and a +huge tin crown on his head. Phoebus appeared as the Postillion of Lonjumeau and +Minerva as a Norman nursemaid. Loud bursts of merriment greeted Mars, who wore +an outrageous uniform, suggestive of an Alpine admiral. But the shouts of +laughter became uproarious when Neptune came in view, clad in a blouse, a high, +bulging workman’s cap on his head, lovelocks glued to his temples. +Shuffling along in slippers, he cried in a thick brogue. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m blessed! When ye’re a masher it’ll never do +not to let ’em love yer!” +</p> + +<p> +There were some shouts of “Oh! Oh!” while the ladies held their +fans one degree higher. Lucy in her stage box laughed so obstreperously that +Caroline Hequet silenced her with a tap of her fan. +</p> + +<p> +From that moment forth the piece was saved—nay, more, promised a great +success. This carnival of the gods, this dragging in the mud of their Olympus, +this mock at a whole religion, a whole world of poetry, appeared in the light +of a royal entertainment. The fever of irreverence gained the literary +first-night world: legend was trampled underfoot; ancient images were +shattered. Jupiter’s make-up was capital. Mars was a success. Royalty +became a farce and the army a thing of folly. When Jupiter, grown suddenly +amorous of a little laundress, began to knock off a mad cancan, Simonne, who +was playing the part of the laundress, launched a kick at the master of the +immortals’ nose and addressed him so drolly as “My big +daddy!” that an immoderate fit of laughter shook the whole house. While +they were dancing Phoebus treated Minerva to salad bowls of negus, and Neptune +sat in state among seven or eight women who regaled him with cakes. Allusions +were eagerly caught; indecent meanings were attached to them; harmless phrases +were diverted from their proper significations in the light of exclamations +issuing from the stalls. For a long time past the theatrical public had not +wallowed in folly more irreverent. It rested them. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, the action of the piece advanced amid these fooleries. Vulcan, as +an elegant young man clad, down to his gloves, entirely in yellow and with an +eyeglass stuck in his eye, was forever running after Venus, who at last made +her appearance as a fishwife, a kerchief on her head and her bosom, covered +with big gold trinkets, in great evidence. Nana was so white and plump and +looked so natural in a part demanding wide hips and a voluptuous mouth that she +straightway won the whole house. On her account Rose Mignon was forgotten, +though she was made up as a delicious baby, with a wicker-work burlet on her +head and a short muslin frock and had just sighed forth Diana’s plaints +in a sweetly pretty voice. The other one, the big wench who slapped her thighs +and clucked like a hen, shed round her an odor of life, a sovereign feminine +charm, with which the public grew intoxicated. From the second act onward +everything was permitted her. She might hold herself awkwardly; she might fail +to sing some note in tune; she might forget her words—it mattered not: +she had only to turn and laugh to raise shouts of applause. When she gave her +famous kick from the hip the stalls were fired, and a glow of passion rose +upward, upward, from gallery to gallery, till it reached the gods. It was a +triumph, too, when she led the dance. She was at home in that: hand on hip, she +enthroned Venus in the gutter by the pavement side. And the music seemed made +for her plebeian voice—shrill, piping music, with reminiscences of +Saint-Cloud Fair, wheezings of clarinets and playful trills on the part of the +little flutes. +</p> + +<p> +Two numbers were again encored. The opening waltz, that waltz with the naughty +rhythmic beat, had returned and swept the gods with it. Juno, as a peasant +woman, caught Jupiter and his little laundress cleverly and boxed his ears. +Diana, surprising Venus in the act of making an assignation with Mars, made +haste to indicate hour and place to Vulcan, who cried, “I’ve hit on +a plan!” The rest of the act did not seem very clear. The inquiry ended +in a final galop after which Jupiter, breathless, streaming with perspiration +and minus his crown, declared that the little women of Earth were delicious and +that the men were all to blame. +</p> + +<p> +The curtain was falling, when certain voices, rising above the storm of bravos, +cried uproariously: +</p> + +<p> +“All! All!” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon the curtain rose again; the artistes reappeared hand in hand. In the +middle of the line Nana and Rose Mignon stood side by side, bowing and +curtsying. The audience applauded; the clappers shouted acclamations. Then +little by little the house emptied. +</p> + +<p> +“I must go and pay my respects to the Countess Muffat,” said La +Faloise. “Exactly so; you’ll present me,” replied Fauchery; +“we’ll go down afterward.” +</p> + +<p> +But it was not easy to get to the first-tier boxes. In the passage at the top +of the stairs there was a crush. In order to get forward at all among the +various groups you had to make yourself small and to slide along, using your +elbows in so doing. Leaning under a copper lamp, where a jet of gas was +burning, the bulky critic was sitting in judgment on the piece in presence of +an attentive circle. People in passing mentioned his name to each other in +muttered tones. He had laughed the whole act through—that was the rumor +going the round of the passages—nevertheless, he was now very severe and +spoke of taste and morals. Farther off the thin-lipped critic was brimming over +with a benevolence which had an unpleasant aftertaste, as of milk turned sour. +</p> + +<p> +Fauchery glanced along, scrutinizing the boxes through the round openings in +each door. But the Count de Vandeuvres stopped him with a question, and when he +was informed that the two cousins were going to pay their respects to the +Muffats, he pointed out to them box seven, from which he had just emerged. Then +bending down and whispering in the journalist’s ear: +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, my dear fellow,” he said, “this Nana—surely +she’s the girl we saw one evening at the corner of the Rue de +Provence?” +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove, you’re right!” cried Fauchery. “I was saying +that I had come across her!” +</p> + +<p> +La Faloise presented his cousin to Count Muffat de Beuville, who appeared very +frigid. But on hearing the name Fauchery the countess raised her head and with +a certain reserve complimented the paragraphist on his articles in the Figaro. +Leaning on the velvet-covered support in front of her, she turned half round +with a pretty movement of the shoulders. They talked for a short time, and the +Universal Exhibition was mentioned. +</p> + +<p> +“It will be very fine,” said the count, whose square-cut, +regular-featured face retained a certain gravity. +</p> + +<p> +“I visited the Champ de Mars today and returned thence truly +astonished.” +</p> + +<p> +“They say that things won’t be ready in time,” La Faloise +ventured to remark. “There’s infinite confusion there—” +</p> + +<p> +But the count interrupted him in his severe voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Things will be ready. The emperor desires it.” +</p> + +<p> +Fauchery gaily recounted how one day, when he had gone down thither in search +of a subject for an article, he had come near spending all his time in the +aquarium, which was then in course of construction. The countess smiled. Now +and again she glanced down at the body of the house, raising an arm which a +white glove covered to the elbow and fanning herself with languid hand. The +house dozed, almost deserted. Some gentlemen in the stalls had opened out +newspapers, and ladies received visits quite comfortably, as though they were +at their own homes. Only a well-bred whispering was audible under the great +chandelier, the light of which was softened in the fine cloud of dust raised by +the confused movements of the interval. At the different entrances men were +crowding in order to talk to ladies who remained seated. They stood there +motionless for a few seconds, craning forward somewhat and displaying the great +white bosoms of their shirt fronts. +</p> + +<p> +“We count on you next Tuesday,” said the countess to La Faloise, +and she invited Fauchery, who bowed. +</p> + +<p> +Not a word was said of the play; Nana’s name was not once mentioned. The +count was so glacially dignified that he might have been supposed to be taking +part at a sitting of the legislature. In order to explain their presence that +evening he remarked simply that his father-in-law was fond of the theater. The +door of the box must have remained open, for the Marquis de Chouard, who had +gone out in order to leave his seat to the visitors, was back again. He was +straightening up his tall, old figure. His face looked soft and white under a +broad-brimmed hat, and with his restless eyes he followed the movements of the +women who passed. +</p> + +<p> +The moment the countess had given her invitation Fauchery took his leave, +feeling that to talk about the play would not be quite the thing. La Faloise +was the last to quit the box. He had just noticed the fair-haired Labordette, +comfortably installed in the Count de Vandeuvres’s stage box and chatting +at very close quarters with Blanche de Sivry. +</p> + +<p> +“Gad,” he said after rejoining his cousin, “that Labordette +knows all the girls then! He’s with Blanche now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless he knows them all,” replied Fauchery quietly. +“What d’you want to be taken for, my friend?” +</p> + +<p> +The passage was somewhat cleared of people, and Fauchery was just about to go +downstairs when Lucy Stewart called him. She was quite at the other end of the +corridor, at the door of her stage box. They were getting cooked in there, she +said, and she took up the whole corridor in company with Caroline Hequet and +her mother, all three nibbling burnt almonds. A box opener was chatting +maternally with them. Lucy fell out with the journalist. He was a pretty +fellow; to be sure! He went up to see other women and didn’t even come +and ask if they were thirsty! Then, changing the subject: +</p> + +<p> +“You know, dear boy, I think Nana very nice.” +</p> + +<p> +She wanted him to stay in the stage box for the last act, but he made his +escape, promising to catch them at the door afterward. Downstairs in front of +the theater Fauchery and La Faloise lit cigarettes. A great gathering blocked +the sidewalk, a stream of men who had come down from the theater steps and were +inhaling the fresh night air in the boulevards, where the roar and battle had +diminished. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Mignon had drawn Steiner away to the Café des Variétés. Seeing +Nana’s success, he had set to work to talk enthusiastically about her, +all the while observing the banker out of the corners of his eyes. He knew him +well; twice he had helped him to deceive Rose and then, the caprice being over, +had brought him back to her, faithful and repentant. In the cafe the too +numerous crowd of customers were squeezing themselves round the marble-topped +tables. Several were standing up, drinking in a great hurry. The tall mirrors +reflected this thronging world of heads to infinity and magnified the narrow +room beyond measure with its three chandeliers, its moleskin-covered seats and +its winding staircase draped with red. Steiner went and seated himself at a +table in the first saloon, which opened full on the boulevard, its doors having +been removed rather early for the time of year. As Fauchery and La Faloise were +passing the banker stopped them. +</p> + +<p> +“Come and take a bock with us, eh?” they said. +</p> + +<p> +But he was too preoccupied by an idea; he wanted to have a bouquet thrown to +Nana. At last he called a waiter belonging to the cafe, whom he familiarly +addressed as Auguste. Mignon, who was listening, looked at him so sharply that +he lost countenance and stammered out: +</p> + +<p> +“Two bouquets, Auguste, and deliver them to the attendant. A bouquet for +each of these ladies! Happy thought, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +At the other end of the saloon, her shoulders resting against the frame of a +mirror, a girl, some eighteen years of age at the outside, was leaning +motionless in front of her empty glass as though she had been benumbed by long +and fruitless waiting. Under the natural curls of her beautiful gray-gold hair +a virginal face looked out at you with velvety eyes, which were at once soft +and candid. +</p> + +<p> +She wore a dress of faded green silk and a round hat which blows had dinted. +The cool air of the night made her look very pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Egad, there’s Satin,” murmured Fauchery when his eye lit +upon her. +</p> + +<p> +La Faloise questioned him. Oh dear, yes, she was a streetwalker—she +didn’t count. But she was such a scandalous sort that people amused +themselves by making her talk. And the journalist, raising his voice: +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing there, Satin?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m bogging,” replied Satin quietly without changing +position. +</p> + +<p> +The four men were charmed and fell a-laughing. Mignon assured them that there +was no need to hurry; it would take twenty minutes to set up the scenery for +the third act. But the two cousins, having drunk their beer, wanted to go up +into the theater again; the cold was making itself felt. Then Mignon remained +alone with Steiner, put his elbows on the table and spoke to him at close +quarters. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s an understood thing, eh? We are to go to her house, and +I’m to introduce you. You know the thing’s quite between +ourselves—my wife needn’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +Once more in their places, Fauchery and La Faloise noticed a pretty, quietly +dressed woman in the second tier of boxes. She was with a serious-looking +gentleman, a chief clerk at the office of the Ministry of the Interior, whom La +Faloise knew, having met him at the Muffats’. As to Fauchery, he was +under the impression that her name was Madame Robert, a lady of honorable +repute who had a lover, only one, and that always a person of respectability. +</p> + +<p> +But they had to turn round, for Daguenet was smiling at them. Now that Nana had +had a success he no longer hid himself: indeed, he had just been scoring +triumphs in the passages. By his side was the young truant schoolboy, who had +not quitted his seat, so stupefying was the state of admiration into which Nana +had plunged him. That was it, he thought; that was the woman! And he blushed as +he thought so and dragged his gloves on and off mechanically. Then since his +neighbor had spoken of Nana, he ventured to question him. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you pardon me for asking you, sir, but that lady who is +acting—do you know her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do a little,” murmured Daguenet with some surprise and +hesitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you know her address?” +</p> + +<p> +The question, addressed as it was to him, came so abruptly that he felt +inclined to respond with a box on the ear. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said in a dry tone of voice. +</p> + +<p> +And with that he turned his back. The fair lad knew that he had just been +guilty of some breach of good manners. He blushed more hotly than ever and +looked scared. +</p> + +<p> +The traditional three knocks were given, and among the returning throng, +attendants, laden with pelisses and overcoats, bustled about at a great rate in +order to put away people’s things. The clappers applauded the scenery, +which represented a grotto on Mount Etna, hollowed out in a silver mine and +with sides glittering like new money. In the background Vulcan’s forge +glowed like a setting star. Diana, since the second act, had come to a good +understanding with the god, who was to pretend that he was on a journey, so as +to leave the way clear for Venus and Mars. Then scarcely was Diana alone than +Venus made her appearance. A shiver of delight ran round the house. Nana was +nude. With quiet audacity she appeared in her nakedness, certain of the +sovereign power of her flesh. Some gauze enveloped her, but her rounded +shoulders, her Amazonian bosom, her wide hips, which swayed to and fro +voluptuously, her whole body, in fact, could be divined, nay discerned, in all +its foamlike whiteness of tint beneath the slight fabric she wore. It was Venus +rising from the waves with no veil save her tresses. And when Nana lifted her +arms the golden hairs in her armpits were observable in the glare of the +footlights. There was no applause. Nobody laughed any more. The men strained +forward with serious faces, sharp features, mouths irritated and parched. A +wind seemed to have passed, a soft, soft wind, laden with a secret menace. +Suddenly in the bouncing child the woman stood discovered, a woman full of +restless suggestion, who brought with her the delirium of sex and opened the +gates of the unknown world of desire. Nana was smiling still, but her smile was +now bitter, as of a devourer of men. +</p> + +<p> +“By God,” said Fauchery quite simply to La Faloise. +</p> + +<p> +Mars in the meantime, with his plume of feathers, came hurrying to the trysting +place and found himself between the two goddesses. Then ensued a passage which +Prullière played with great delicacy. Petted by Diana, who wanted to make a +final attack upon his feelings before delivering him up to Vulcan, wheedled by +Venus, whom the presence of her rival excited, he gave himself up to these +tender delights with the beatified expression of a man in clover. Finally a +grand trio brought the scene to a close, and it was then that an attendant +appeared in Lucy Stewart’s box and threw on the stage two immense +bouquets of white lilacs. There was applause; Nana and Rose Mignon bowed, while +Prullière picked up the bouquets. Many of the occupants of the stalls turned +smilingly toward the ground-floor occupied by Steiner and Mignon. The banker, +his face blood-red, was suffering from little convulsive twitchings of the +chin, as though he had a stoppage in his throat. +</p> + +<p> +What followed took the house by storm completely. Diana had gone off in a rage, +and directly afterward, Venus, sitting on a moss-clad seat, called Mars to her. +Never yet had a more glowing scene of seduction been ventured on. Nana, her +arms round Prullière’s neck, was drawing him toward her when Fontan, with +comically furious mimicry and an exaggerated imitation of the face of an +outraged husband who surprises his wife in FLAGRANTE DELICTO, appeared at the +back of the grotto. He was holding the famous net with iron meshes. For an +instant he poised and swung it, as a fisherman does when he is going to make a +cast, and by an ingenious twist Venus and Mars were caught in the snare; the +net wrapped itself round them and held them motionless in the attitude of happy +lovers. +</p> + +<p> +A murmur of applause swelled and swelled like a growing sigh. There was some +hand clapping, and every opera glass was fixed on Venus. Little by little Nana +had taken possession of the public, and now every man was her slave. +</p> + +<p> +A wave of lust had flowed from her as from an excited animal, and its influence +had spread and spread and spread till the whole house was possessed by it. At +that moment her slightest movement blew the flame of desire: with her little +finger she ruled men’s flesh. Backs were arched and quivered as though +unseen violin bows had been drawn across their muscles; upon men’s +shoulders appeared fugitive hairs, which flew in air, blown by warm and +wandering breaths, breathed one knew not from what feminine mouth. In front of +him Fauchery saw the truant schoolboy half lifted from his seat by passion. +Curiosity led him to look at the Count de Vandeuvres—he was extremely +pale, and his lips looked pinched—at fat Steiner, whose face was purple +to the verge of apoplexy; at Labordette, ogling away with the highly astonished +air of a horse dealer admiring a perfectly shaped mare; at Daguenet, whose ears +were blood-red and twitching with enjoyment. Then a sudden idea made him glance +behind, and he marveled at what he saw in the Muffats’ box. Behind the +countess, who was white and serious as usual, the count was sitting straight +upright, with mouth agape and face mottled with red, while close by him, in the +shadow, the restless eyes of the Marquis de Chouard had become catlike +phosphorescent, full of golden sparkles. The house was suffocating; +people’s very hair grew heavy on their perspiring heads. For three hours +back the breath of the multitude had filled and heated the atmosphere with a +scent of crowded humanity. Under the swaying glare of the gas the dust clouds +in mid-air had grown constantly denser as they hung motionless beneath the +chandelier. The whole house seemed to be oscillating, to be lapsing toward +dizziness in its fatigue and excitement, full, as it was, of those drowsy +midnight desires which flutter in the recesses of the bed of passion. And Nana, +in front of this languorous public, these fifteen hundred human beings thronged +and smothered in the exhaustion and nervous exasperation which belong to the +close of a spectacle, Nana still triumphed by right of her marble flesh and +that sexual nature of hers, which was strong enough to destroy the whole crowd +of her adorers and yet sustain no injury. +</p> + +<p> +The piece drew to a close. In answer to Vulcan’s triumphant summons all +the Olympians defiled before the lovers with ohs and ahs of stupefaction and +gaiety. Jupiter said, “I think it is light conduct on your part, my son, +to summon us to see such a sight as this.” Then a reaction took place in +favor of Venus. The chorus of cuckolds was again ushered in by Iris and +besought the master of the gods not to give effect to its petition, for since +women had lived at home, domestic life was becoming impossible for the men: the +latter preferred being deceived and happy. That was the moral of the play. Then +Venus was set at liberty, and Vulcan obtained a partial divorce from her. Mars +was reconciled with Diana, and Jove, for the sake of domestic peace, packed his +little laundress off into a constellation. And finally they extricated Love +from his black hole, where instead of conjugating the verb AMO he had been busy +in the manufacture of “dollies.” The curtain fell on an apotheosis, +wherein the cuckolds’ chorus knelt and sang a hymn of gratitude to Venus, +who stood there with smiling lips, her stature enhanced by her sovereign +nudity. +</p> + +<p> +The audience, already on their feet, were making for the exits. The authors +were mentioned, and amid a thunder of applause there were two calls before the +curtain. The shout of “Nana! Nana!” rang wildly forth. Then no +sooner was the house empty than it grew dark: the footlights went out; the +chandelier was turned down; long strips of gray canvas slipped from the stage +boxes and swathed the gilt ornamentation of the galleries, and the house, +lately so full of heat and noise, lapsed suddenly into a heavy sleep, while a +musty, dusty odor began to pervade it. In the front of her box stood the +Countess Muffat. Very erect and closely wrapped up in her furs, she stared at +the gathering shadows and waited for the crowd to pass away. +</p> + +<p> +In the passages the people were jostling the attendants, who hardly knew what +to do among the tumbled heaps of outdoor raiment. Fauchery and La Faloise had +hurried in order to see the crowd pass out. All along the entrance hall men +formed a living hedge, while down the double staircase came slowly and in +regular, complete formation two interminable throngs of human beings. Steiner, +in tow of Mignon, had left the house among the foremost. The Count de +Vandeuvres took his departure with Blanche de Sivry on his arm. For a moment or +two Gaga and her daughter seemed doubtful how to proceed, but Labordette made +haste to go and fetch them a conveyance, the door whereof he gallantly shut +after them. Nobody saw Daguenet go by. As the truant schoolboy, registering a +mental vow to wait at the stage door, was running with burning cheeks toward +the Passage des Panoramas, of which he found the gate closed, Satin, standing +on the edge of the pavement, moved forward and brushed him with her skirts, but +he in his despair gave her a savage refusal and vanished amid the crowd, tears +of impotent desire in his eyes. Members of the audience were lighting their +cigars and walking off, humming: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +When Venus roams at eventide. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +Satin had gone back in front of the Café des Variétés, where Auguste let her +eat the sugar that remained over from the customers’ orders. A stout man, +who came out in a very heated condition, finally carried her off in the shadow +of the boulevard, which was now gradually going to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Still people kept coming downstairs. La Faloise was waiting for Clarisse; +Fauchery had promised to catch up Lucy Stewart with Caroline Hequet and her +mother. They came; they took up a whole corner of the entrance hall and were +laughing very loudly when the Muffats passed by them with an icy expression. +Bordenave had just then opened a little door and, peeping out, had obtained +from Fauchery the formal promise of an article. He was dripping with +perspiration, his face blazed, as though he were drunk with success. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re good for two hundred nights,” La Faloise said to him +with civility. “The whole of Paris will visit your theater.” +</p> + +<p> +But Bordenave grew annoyed and, indicating with a jerk of his chin the public +who filled the entrance hall—a herd of men with parched lips and ardent +eyes, still burning with the enjoyment of Nana—he cried out violently: +</p> + +<p> +“Say ‘my brothel,’ you obstinate devil!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"></a> CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p> +At ten o’clock the next morning Nana was still asleep. She occupied the +second floor of a large new house in the Boulevard Haussmann, the landlord of +which let flats to single ladies in order by their means to dry the paint. A +rich merchant from Moscow, who had come to pass a winter in Paris, had +installed her there after paying six months’ rent in advance. The rooms +were too big for her and had never been completely furnished. The vulgar +sumptuosity of gilded consoles and gilded chairs formed a crude contrast +therein to the bric-a-brac of a secondhand furniture shop—to mahogany +round tables, that is to say, and zinc candelabras, which sought to imitate +Florentine bronze. All of which smacked of the courtesan too early deserted by +her first serious protector and fallen back on shabby lovers, of a precarious +first appearance of a bad start, handicapped by refusals of credit and threats +of eviction. +</p> + +<p> +Nana was sleeping on her face, hugging in her bare arms a pillow in which she +was burying cheeks grown pale in sleep. The bedroom and the dressing room were +the only two apartments which had been properly furnished by a neighboring +upholsterer. A ray of light, gliding in under a curtain, rendered visible +rosewood furniture and hangings and chairbacks of figured damask with a pattern +of big blue flowers on a gray ground. But in the soft atmosphere of that +slumbering chamber Nana suddenly awoke with a start, as though surprised to +find an empty place at her side. She looked at the other pillow lying next to +hers; there was the dint of a human head among its flounces: it was still warm. +And groping with one hand, she pressed the knob of an electric bell by her +bed’s head. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s gone then?” she asked the maid who presented herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame, Monsieur Paul went away not ten minutes back. As Madame was +tired, he did not wish to wake her. But he ordered me to tell Madame that he +would come tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke Zoé, the lady’s maid, opened the outer shutter. A flood of +daylight entered. Zoé, a dark brunette with hair in little plaits, had a long +canine face, at once livid and full of seams, a snub nose, thick lips and two +black eyes in continual movement. +</p> + +<p> +“Tomorrow, tomorrow,” repeated Nana, who was not yet wide awake, +“is tomorrow the day?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame, Monsieur Paul has always come on the Wednesday.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, now I remember,” said the young woman, sitting up. +“It’s all changed. I wanted to tell him so this morning. He would +run against the nigger! We should have a nice to-do!” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame did not warn me; I couldn’t be aware of it,” murmured +Zoé. “When Madame changes her days she will do well to tell me so that I +may know. Then the old miser is no longer due on the Tuesday?” +</p> + +<p> +Between themselves they were wont thus gravely to nickname as “old +miser” and “nigger” their two paying visitors, one of whom +was a tradesman of economical tendencies from the Faubourg Saint-Denis, while +the other was a Walachian, a mock count, whose money, paid always at the most +irregular intervals, never looked as though it had been honestly come by. +Daguenet had made Nana give him the days subsequent to the old miser’s +visits, and as the trader had to be at home by eight o’clock in the +morning, the young man would watch for his departure from Zoés kitchen and +would take his place, which was still quite warm, till ten o’clock. Then +he, too, would go about his business. Nana and he were wont to think it a very +comfortable arrangement. +</p> + +<p> +“So much the worse,” said Nana; “I’ll write to him this +afternoon. And if he doesn’t receive my letter, then tomorrow you will +stop him coming in.” +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime Zoé was walking softly about the room. She spoke of +yesterday’s great hit. Madame had shown such talent; she sang so well! +Ah! Madame need not fret at all now! +</p> + +<p> +Nana, her elbow dug into her pillow, only tossed her head in reply. Her +nightdress had slipped down on her shoulders, and her hair, unfastened and +entangled, flowed over them in masses. +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt,” she murmured, becoming thoughtful; “but +what’s to be done to gain time? I’m going to have all sorts of +bothers today. Now let’s see, has the porter come upstairs yet this +morning?” +</p> + +<p> +Then both the women talked together seriously. Nana owed three quarters’ +rent; the landlord was talking of seizing the furniture. Then, too, there was a +perfect downpour of creditors; there was a livery-stable man, a needlewoman, a +ladies’ tailor, a charcoal dealer and others besides, who came every day +and settled themselves on a bench in the little hall. The charcoal dealer +especially was a dreadful fellow—he shouted on the staircase. But +Nana’s greatest cause of distress was her little Louis, a child she had +given birth to when she was sixteen and now left in charge of a nurse in a +village in the neighborhood of Rambouillet. This woman was clamoring for the +sum of three hundred francs before she would consent to give the little Louis +back to her. Nana, since her last visit to the child, had been seized with a +fit of maternal love and was desperate at the thought that she could not +realize a project, which had now become a hobby with her. This was to pay off +the nurse and to place the little man with his aunt, Mme Lerat, at the +Batignolles, whither she could go and see him as often as she liked. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the lady’s maid kept hinting that her mistress ought to have +confided her necessities to the old miser. +</p> + +<p> +“To be sure, I told him everything,” cried Nana, “and he told +me in answer that he had too many big liabilities. He won’t go beyond his +thousand francs a month. The nigger’s beggared just at present; I expect +he’s lost at play. As to that poor Mimi, he stands in great need of a +loan himself; a fall in stocks has cleaned him out—he can’t even +bring me flowers now.” +</p> + +<p> +She was speaking of Daguenet. In the self-abandonment of her awakening she had +no secrets from Zoé, and the latter, inured to such confidences, received them +with respectful sympathy. Since Madame condescended to speak to her of her +affairs she would permit herself to say what she thought. Besides, she was very +fond of Madame; she had left Mme Blanche for the express purpose of taking +service with her, and heaven knew Mme Blanche was straining every nerve to have +her again! Situations weren’t lacking; she was pretty well known, but she +would have stayed with Madame even in narrow circumstances, because she +believed in Madame’s future. And she concluded by stating her advice with +precision. When one was young one often did silly things. But this time it was +one’s duty to look alive, for the men only thought of having their fun. +Oh dear, yes! Things would right themselves. Madame had only to say one word in +order to quiet her creditors and find the money she stood in need of. +</p> + +<p> +“All that doesn’t help me to three hundred francs,” Nana kept +repeating as she plunged her fingers into the vagrant convolutions of her back +hair. “I must have three hundred francs today, at once! It’s stupid +not to know anyone who’ll give you three hundred francs.” +</p> + +<p> +She racked her brains. She would have sent Mme Lerat, whom she was expecting +that very morning, to Rambouillet. The counteraction of her sudden fancy +spoiled for her the triumph of last night. Among all those men who had cheered +her, to think that there wasn’t one to bring her fifteen louis! And then +one couldn’t accept money in that way! Dear heaven, how unfortunate she +was! And she kept harking back again to the subject of her baby—he had +blue eyes like a cherub’s; he could lisp “Mamma” in such a +funny voice that you were ready to die of laughing! +</p> + +<p> +But at this moment the electric bell at the outer door was heard to ring with +its quick and tremulous vibration. Zoé returned, murmuring with a confidential +air: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a woman.” +</p> + +<p> +She had seen this woman a score of times, only she made believe never to +recognize her and to be quite ignorant of the nature of her relations with +ladies in difficulties. +</p> + +<p> +“She has told me her name—Madame Tricon.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Tricon,” cried Nana. “Dear me! That’s true. +I’d forgotten her. Show her in.” +</p> + +<p> +Zoé ushered in a tall old lady who wore ringlets and looked like a countess who +haunts lawyers’ offices. Then she effaced herself, disappearing +noiselessly with the lithe, serpentine movement wherewith she was wont to +withdraw from a room on the arrival of a gentleman. However, she might have +stayed. The Tricon did not even sit down. Only a brief exchange of words took +place. +</p> + +<p> +“I have someone for you today. Do you care about it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. How much?” +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty louis.” +</p> + +<p> +“At what o’clock?” +</p> + +<p> +“At three. It’s settled then?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s settled.” +</p> + +<p> +Straightway the Tricon talked of the state of the weather. It was dry weather, +pleasant for walking. She had still four or five persons to see. And she took +her departure after consulting a small memorandum book. When she was once more +alone Nana appeared comforted. A slight shiver agitated her shoulders, and she +wrapped herself softly up again in her warm bedclothes with the lazy movements +of a cat who is susceptible to cold. Little by little her eyes closed, and she +lay smiling at the thought of dressing Louiset prettily on the following day, +while in the slumber into which she once more sank last night’s long, +feverish dream of endlessly rolling applause returned like a sustained +accompaniment to music and gently soothed her lassitude. +</p> + +<p> +At eleven o’clock, when Zoé showed Mme Lerat into the room, Nana was +still asleep. But she woke at the noise and cried out at once: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s you. You’ll go to Rambouillet today?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I’ve come for,” said the aunt. +“There’s a train at twenty past twelve. I’ve got time to +catch it.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I shall only have the money by and by,” replied the young +woman, stretching herself and throwing out her bosom. “You’ll have +lunch, and then we’ll see.” +</p> + +<p> +Zoé brought a dressing jacket. +</p> + +<p> +“The hairdresser’s here, madame,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +But Nana did not wish to go into the dressing room. And she herself cried out: +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, Francis.” +</p> + +<p> +A well-dressed man pushed open the door and bowed. Just at that moment Nana was +getting out of bed, her bare legs in full view. But she did not hurry and +stretched her hands out so as to let Zoé draw on the sleeves of the dressing +jacket. Francis, on his part, was quite at his ease and without turning away +waited with a sober expression on his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps Madame has not seen the papers. There’s a very nice +article in the Figaro.” +</p> + +<p> +He had brought the journal. Mme Lerat put on her spectacles and read the +article aloud, standing in front of the window as she did so. She had the build +of a policeman, and she drew herself up to her full height, while her nostrils +seemed to compress themselves whenever she uttered a gallant epithet. It was a +notice by Fauchery, written just after the performance, and it consisted of a +couple of very glowing columns, full of witty sarcasm about the artist and of +broad admiration for the woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Excellent!” Francis kept repeating. +</p> + +<p> +Nana laughed good-humoredly at his chaffing her about her voice! He was a nice +fellow, was that Fauchery, and she would repay him for his charming style of +writing. Mme Lerat, after having reread the notice, roundly declared that the +men all had the devil in their shanks, and she refused to explain her self +further, being fully satisfied with a brisk allusion of which she alone knew +the meaning. Francis finished turning up and fastening Nana’s hair. He +bowed and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll keep my eye on the evening papers. At half-past five as +usual, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bring me a pot of pomade and a pound of burnt almonds from +Boissier’s,” Nana cried to him across the drawing room just as he +was shutting the door after him. +</p> + +<p> +Then the two women, once more alone, recollected that they had not embraced, +and they planted big kisses on each other’s cheeks. The notice warmed +their hearts. Nana, who up till now had been half asleep, was again seized with +the fever of her triumph. Dear, dear, ’twas Rose Mignon that would be +spending a pleasant morning! Her aunt having been unwilling to go to the +theater because, as she averred, sudden emotions ruined her stomach, Nana set +herself to describe the events of the evening and grew intoxicated at her own +recital, as though all Paris had been shaken to the ground by the applause. +Then suddenly interrupting herself, she asked with a laugh if one would ever +have imagined it all when she used to go traipsing about the Rue de la +Goutte-d’Or. Mme Lerat shook her head. No, no, one never could have +foreseen it! And she began talking in her turn, assuming a serious air as she +did so and calling Nana “daughter.” Wasn’t she a second +mother to her since the first had gone to rejoin Papa and Grandmamma? Nana was +greatly softened and on the verge of tears. But Mme Lerat declared that the +past was the past—oh yes, to be sure, a dirty past with things in it +which it was as well not to stir up every day. She had left off seeing her +niece for a long time because among the family she was accused of ruining +herself along with the little thing. Good God, as though that were possible! +She didn’t ask for confidences; she believed that Nana had always lived +decently, and now it was enough for her to have found her again in a fine +position and to observe her kind feelings toward her son. Virtue and hard work +were still the only things worth anything in this world. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is the baby’s father?” she said, interrupting herself, +her eyes lit up with an expression of acute curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +Nana was taken by surprise and hesitated a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“A gentleman,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“There now!” rejoined the aunt. “They declared that you had +him by a stonemason who was in the habit of beating you. Indeed, you shall tell +me all about it someday; you know I’m discreet! Tut, tut, I’ll look +after him as though he were a prince’s son.” +</p> + +<p> +She had retired from business as a florist and was living on her savings, which +she had got together sou by sou, till now they brought her in an income of six +hundred francs a year. Nana promised to rent some pretty little lodgings for +her and to give her a hundred francs a month besides. At the mention of this +sum the aunt forgot herself and shrieked to her niece, bidding her squeeze +their throats, since she had them in her grasp. She was meaning the men, of +course. Then they both embraced again, but in the midst of her rejoicing +Nana’s face, as she led the talk back to the subject of Louiset, seemed +to be overshadowed by a sudden recollection. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t it a bore I’ve got to go out at three +o’clock?” she muttered. “It IS a nuisance!” +</p> + +<p> +Just then Zoé came in to say that lunch was on the table. They went into the +dining room, where an old lady was already seated at table. She had not taken +her hat off, and she wore a dark dress of an indecisive color midway between +puce and goose dripping. Nana did not seem surprised at sight of her. She +simply asked her why she hadn’t come into the bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +“I heard voices,” replied the old lady. “I thought you had +company.” +</p> + +<p> +Mme Maloir, a respectable-looking and mannerly woman, was Nana’s old +friend, chaperon and companion. Mme Lerat’s presence seemed to fidget her +at first. Afterward, when she became aware that it was Nana’s aunt, she +looked at her with a sweet expression and a die-away smile. In the meantime +Nana, who averred that she was as hungry as a wolf, threw herself on the +radishes and gobbled them up without bread. Mme Lerat had become ceremonious; +she refused the radishes as provocative of phlegm. By and by when Zoé had +brought in the cutlets Nana just chipped the meat and contented herself with +sucking the bones. Now and again she scrutinized her old friend’s hat out +of the corners of her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the new hat I gave you?” she ended by saying. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I made it up,” murmured Mme Maloir, her mouth full of meat. +</p> + +<p> +The hat was smart to distraction. In front it was greatly exaggerated, and it +was adorned with a lofty feather. Mme Maloir had a mania for doing up all her +hats afresh; she alone knew what really became her, and with a few stitches she +could manufacture a toque out of the most elegant headgear. Nana, who had +bought her this very hat in order not to be ashamed of her when in her company +out of doors, was very near being vexed. +</p> + +<p> +“Push it up, at any rate,” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you,” replied the old lady with dignity. “It +doesn’t get in my way; I can eat very comfortably as it is.” +</p> + +<p> +After the cutlets came cauliflowers and the remains of a cold chicken. But at +the arrival of each successive dish Nana made a little face, hesitated, sniffed +and left her plateful untouched. She finished her lunch with the help of +preserve. +</p> + +<p> +Dessert took a long time. Zoé did not remove the cloth before serving the +coffee. Indeed, the ladies simply pushed back their plates before taking it. +They talked continually of yesterday’s charming evening. Nana kept +rolling cigarettes, which she smoked, swinging up and down on her +backward-tilted chair. And as Zoé had remained behind and was lounging idly +against the sideboard, it came about that the company were favored with her +history. She said she was the daughter of a midwife at Bercy who had failed in +business. First of all she had taken service with a dentist and after that with +an insurance agent, but neither place suited her, and she thereupon enumerated, +not without a certain amount of pride, the names of the ladies with whom she +had served as lady’s maid. Zoé spoke of these ladies as one who had had +the making of their fortunes. It was very certain that without her more than +one would have had some queer tales to tell. Thus one day, when Mme Blanche was +with M. Octave, in came the old gentleman. What did Zoé do? She made believe to +tumble as she crossed the drawing room; the old boy rushed up to her +assistance, flew to the kitchen to fetch her a glass of water, and M. Octave +slipped away. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, she’s a good girl, you bet!” said Nana, who was +listening to her with tender interest and a sort of submissive admiration. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I’ve had my troubles,” began Mme Lerat. And edging up to +Mme Maloir, she imparted to her certain confidential confessions. Both ladies +took lumps of sugar dipped in cognac and sucked them. But Mme Maloir was wont +to listen to other people’s secrets without even confessing anything +concerning herself. People said that she lived on a mysterious allowance in a +room whither no one ever penetrated. +</p> + +<p> +All of a sudden Nana grew excited. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t play with the knives, Aunt. You know it gives me a +turn!” +</p> + +<p> +Without thinking about it Mme Lerat had crossed two knives on the table in +front of her. Notwithstanding this, the young woman defended herself from the +charge of superstition. Thus, if the salt were upset, it meant nothing, even on +a Friday; but when it came to knives, that was too much of a good thing; that +had never proved fallacious. There could be no doubt that something unpleasant +was going to happen to her. She yawned, and then with an air, of profound +boredom: +</p> + +<p> +“Two o’clock already. I must go out. What a nuisance!” +</p> + +<p> +The two old ladies looked at one another. The three women shook their heads +without speaking. To be sure, life was not always amusing. Nana had tilted her +chair back anew and lit a cigarette, while the others sat pursing up their lips +discreetly, thinking deeply philosophic thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +“While waiting for you to return we’ll play a game of +bezique,” said Mme Maloir after a short silence. “Does Madame play +bezique?” +</p> + +<p> +Certainly Mme Lerat played it, and that to perfection. It was no good troubling +Zoé, who had vanished—a corner of the table would do quite well. And they +pushed back the tablecloth over the dirty plates. But as Mme Maloir was herself +going to take the cards out of a drawer in the sideboard, Nana remarked that +before she sat down to her game it would be very nice of her if she would write +her a letter. It bored Nana to write letters; besides, she was not sure of her +spelling, while her old friend could turn out the most feeling epistles. She +ran to fetch some good note paper in her bedroom. An inkstand consisting of a +bottle of ink worth about three sous stood untidily on one of the pieces of +furniture, with a pen deep in rust beside it. The letter was for Daguenet. Mme +Maloir herself wrote in her bold English hand, “My darling little +man,” and then she told him not to come tomorrow because “that +could not be” but hastened to add that “she was with him in thought +at every moment of the day, whether she were near or far away.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I end with ‘a thousand kisses,’” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +Mme Lerat had shown her approval of each phrase with an emphatic nod. Her eyes +were sparkling; she loved to find herself in the midst of love affairs. Nay, +she was seized with a desire to add some words of her own and, assuming a +tender look and cooing like a dove, she suggested: +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand kisses on thy beautiful eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the thing: ‘a thousand kisses on thy beautiful +eyes’!” Nana repeated, while the two old ladies assumed a beatified +expression. +</p> + +<p> +Zoé was rung for and told to take the letter down to a commissionaire. She had +just been talking with the theater messenger, who had brought her mistress the +day’s playbill and rehearsal arrangements, which he had forgotten in the +morning. Nana had this individual ushered in and got him to take the latter to +Daguenet on his return. Then she put questions to him. Oh yes! M. Bordenave was +very pleased; people had already taken seats for a week to come; Madame had no +idea of the number of people who had been asking her address since morning. +When the man had taken his departure Nana announced that at most she would only +be out half an hour. If there were any visitors Zoé would make them wait. As +she spoke the electric bell sounded. It was a creditor in the shape of the man +of whom she jobbed her carriages. He had settled himself on the bench in the +anteroom, and the fellow was free to twiddle his thumbs till night—there +wasn’t the least hurry now. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, buck up!” said Nana, still torpid with laziness and yawning +and stretching afresh. “I ought to be there now!” +</p> + +<p> +Yet she did not budge but kept watching the play of her aunt, who had just +announced four aces. Chin on hand, she grew quite engrossed in it but gave a +violent start on hearing three o’clock strike. +</p> + +<p> +“Good God!” she cried roughly. +</p> + +<p> +Then Mme Maloir, who was counting the tricks she had won with her tens and +aces, said cheeringly to her in her soft voice: +</p> + +<p> +“It would be better, dearie, to give up your expedition at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, be quick about it,” said Mme Lerat, shuffling the cards. +“I shall take the half-past four o’clock train if you’re back +here with the money before four o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, there’ll be no time lost,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes after Zoé helped her on with a dress and a hat. It didn’t +matter much if she were badly turned out. Just as she was about to go +downstairs there was a new ring at the bell. This time it was the charcoal +dealer. Very well, he might keep the livery-stable keeper company—it +would amuse the fellows. Only, as she dreaded a scene, she crossed the kitchen +and made her escape by the back stairs. She often went that way and in return +had only to lift up her flounces. +</p> + +<p> +“When one is a good mother anything’s excusable,” said Mme +Maloir sententiously when left alone with Mme Lerat. +</p> + +<p> +“Four kings,” replied this lady, whom the play greatly excited. +</p> + +<p> +And they both plunged into an interminable game. +</p> + +<p> +The table had not been cleared. The smell of lunch and the cigarette smoke +filled the room with an ambient, steamy vapor. The two ladies had again set to +work dipping lumps of sugar in brandy and sucking the same. For twenty minutes +at least they played and sucked simultaneously when, the electric bell having +rung a third time, Zoé bustled into the room and roughly disturbed them, just +as if they had been her own friends. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, that’s another ring. You can’t stay where you +are. If many folks call I must have the whole flat. Now off you go, off you +go!” +</p> + +<p> +Mme Maloir was for finishing the game, but Zoé looked as if she was going to +pounce down on the cards, and so she decided to carry them off without in any +way altering their positions, while Mme Lerat undertook the removal of the +brandy bottle, the glasses and the sugar. Then they both scudded to the +kitchen, where they installed themselves at the table in an empty space between +the dishcloths, which were spread out to dry, and the bowl still full of +dishwater. +</p> + +<p> +“We said it was three hundred and forty. It’s your turn.” +</p> + +<p> +“I play hearts.” +</p> + +<p> +When Zoé returned she found them once again absorbed. After a silence, as Mme +Lerat was shuffling, Mme Maloir asked who it was. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nobody to speak of,” replied the servant carelessly; “a +slip of a lad! I wanted to send him away again, but he’s such a pretty +boy with never a hair on his chin and blue eyes and a girl’s face! So I +told him to wait after all. He’s got an enormous bouquet in his hand, +which he never once consented to put down. One would like to catch him +one—a brat like that who ought to be at school still!” +</p> + +<p> +Mme Lerat went to fetch a water bottle to mix herself some brandy and water, +the lumps of sugar having rendered her thirsty. Zoé muttered something to the +effect that she really didn’t mind if she drank something too. Her mouth, +she averred, was as bitter as gall. +</p> + +<p> +“So you put him—?” continued Mme Maloir. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, I put him in the closet at the end of the room, the little +unfurnished one. There’s only one of my lady’s trunks there and a +table. It’s there I stow the lubbers.” +</p> + +<p> +And she was putting plenty of sugar in her grog when the electric bell made her +jump. Oh, drat it all! Wouldn’t they let her have a drink in peace? If +they were to have a peal of bells things promised well. Nevertheless, she ran +off to open the door. Returning presently, she saw Mme Maloir questioning her +with a glance. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s nothing,” she said, “only a bouquet.” +</p> + +<p> +All three refreshed themselves, nodding to each other in token of salutation. +Then while Zoé was at length busy clearing the table, bringing the plates out +one by one and putting them in the sink, two other rings followed close upon +one another. But they weren’t serious, for while keeping the kitchen +informed of what was going on she twice repeated her disdainful expression: +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, only a bouquet.” +</p> + +<p> +Notwithstanding which, the old ladies laughed between two of their tricks when +they heard her describe the looks of the creditors in the anteroom after the +flowers had arrived. Madame would find her bouquets on her toilet table. What a +pity it was they cost such a lot and that you could only get ten sous for them! +Oh dear, yes, plenty of money was wasted! +</p> + +<p> +“For my part,” said Mme Maloir, “I should be quite content if +every day of my life I got what the men in Paris had spent on flowers for the +women.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, you know, you’re not hard to please,” murmured Mme +Lerat. “Why, one would have only just enough to buy thread with. Four +queens, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +It was ten minutes to four. Zoé was astonished, could not understand why her +mistress was out so long. Ordinarily when Madame found herself obliged to go +out in the afternoons she got it over in double-quick time. But Mme Maloir +declared that one didn’t always manage things as one wished. Truly, life +was beset with obstacles, averred Mme Lerat. The best course was to wait. If +her niece was long in coming it was because her occupations detained her; +wasn’t it so? Besides, they weren’t overworked—it was +comfortable in the kitchen. And as hearts were out, Mme Lerat threw down +diamonds. +</p> + +<p> +The bell began again, and when Zoé reappeared she was burning with excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“My children, it’s fat Steiner!” she said in the doorway, +lowering her voice as she spoke. “I’ve put HIM in the little +sitting room.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon Mme Maloir spoke about the banker to Mme Lerat, who knew no such +gentleman. Was he getting ready to give Rose Mignon the go-by? Zoé shook her +head; she knew a thing or two. But once more she had to go and open the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s bothers!” she murmured when she came back. +“It’s the nigger! ’Twasn’t any good telling him that my +lady’s gone out, and so he’s settled himself in the bedroom. We +only expected him this evening.” +</p> + +<p> +At a quarter past four Nana was not in yet. What could she be after? It was +silly of her! Two other bouquets were brought round, and Zoé, growing bored +looked to see if there were any coffee left. Yes, the ladies would willingly +finish off the coffee; it would waken them up. Sitting hunched up on their +chairs, they were beginning to fall asleep through dint of constantly taking +their cards between their fingers with the accustomed movement. The half-hour +sounded. Something must decidedly have happened to Madame. And they began +whispering to each other. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Mme Maloir forgot herself and in a ringing voice announced: +“I’ve the five hundred! Trumps, Major Quint!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do be quiet!” said Zoé angrily. “What will all those +gentlemen think?” And in the silence which ensued and amid the whispered +muttering of the two old women at strife over their game, the sound of rapid +footsteps ascended from the back stairs. It was Nana at last. Before she had +opened the door her breathlessness became audible. She bounced abruptly in, +looking very red in the face. Her skirt, the string of which must have been +broken, was trailing over the stairs, and her flounces had just been dipped in +a puddle of something unpleasant which had oozed out on the landing of the +first floor, where the servant girl was a regular slut. +</p> + +<p> +“Here you are! It’s lucky!” said Mme Lerat, pursing up her +lips, for she was still vexed at Mme Maloir’s “five hundred.” +“You may flatter yourself at the way you keep folks waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame isn’t reasonable; indeed, she isn’t!” added +Zoé. +</p> + +<p> +Nana was already harassed, and these reproaches exasperated her. Was that the +way people received her after the worry she had gone through? +</p> + +<p> +“Will you blooming well leave me alone, eh?” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush, ma’am, there are people in there,” said the maid. +</p> + +<p> +Then in lower tones the young Woman stuttered breathlessly: +</p> + +<p> +“D’you suppose I’ve been having a good time? Why, there was +no end to it. I should have liked to see you there! I was boiling with rage! I +felt inclined to smack somebody. And never a cab to come home in! Luckily +it’s only a step from here, but never mind that; I did just run +home.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have the money?” asked the aunt. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear, dear! That question!” rejoined Nana. +</p> + +<p> +She had sat herself down on a chair close up against the stove, for her legs +had failed her after so much running, and without stopping to take breath she +drew from behind her stays an envelope in which there were four hundred-franc +notes. They were visible through a large rent she had torn with savage fingers +in order to be sure of the contents. The three women round about her stared +fixedly at the envelope, a big, crumpled, dirty receptacle, as it lay clasped +in her small gloved hands. +</p> + +<p> +It was too late now—Mme Lerat would not go to Rambouillet till tomorrow, +and Nana entered into long explanations. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s company waiting for you,” the lady’s maid +repeated. +</p> + +<p> +But Nana grew excited again. The company might wait: she’d go to them all +in good time when she’d finished. And as her aunt began putting her hand +out for the money: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah no! Not all of it,” she said. “Three hundred francs for +the nurse, fifty for your journey and expenses, that’s three hundred and +fifty. Fifty francs I keep.” +</p> + +<p> +The big difficulty was how to find change. There were not ten francs in the +house. But they did not even address themselves to Mme Maloir who, never having +more than a six-sou omnibus fair upon her, was listening in quite a +disinterested manner. At length Zoé went out of the room, remarking that she +would go and look in her box, and she brought back a hundred francs in +hundred-sou pieces. They were counted out on a corner of the table, and Mme +Lerat took her departure at once after having promised to bring Louiset back +with her the following day. +</p> + +<p> +“You say there’s company there?” continued Nana, still +sitting on the chair and resting herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame, three people.” +</p> + +<p> +And Zoé mentioned the banker first. Nana made a face. Did that man Steiner +think she was going to let herself be bored because he had thrown her a bouquet +yesterday evening? +</p> + +<p> +“Besides, I’ve had enough of it,” she declared. “I +shan’t receive today. Go and say you don’t expect me now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame will think the matter over; Madame will receive Monsieur +Steiner,” murmured Zoé gravely, without budging from her place. She was +annoyed to see her mistress on the verge of committing another foolish mistake. +</p> + +<p> +Then she mentioned the Walachian, who ought by now to find time hanging heavy +on his hands in the bedroom. Whereupon Nana grew furious and more obstinate +than ever. No, she would see nobody, nobody! Who’d sent her such a +blooming leech of a man? +</p> + +<p> +“Chuck ’em all out! I—I’m going to play a game of +bezique with Madame Maloir. I prefer doing that.” +</p> + +<p> +The bell interrupted her remarks. That was the last straw. Another of the +beggars yet! She forbade Zoé to go and open the door, but the latter had left +the kitchen without listening to her, and when she reappeared she brought back +a couple of cards and said authoritatively: +</p> + +<p> +“I told them that Madame was receiving visitors. The gentlemen are in the +drawing room.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana had sprung up, raging, but the names of the Marquis de Chouard and of +Count Muffat de Beuville, which were inscribed on the cards, calmed her down. +For a moment or two she remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are they?” she asked at last. “You know them?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know the old fellow,” replied Zoé, discreetly pursing up her +lips. +</p> + +<p> +And her mistress continuing to question her with her eyes, she added simply: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve seen him somewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +This remark seemed to decide the young woman. Regretfully she left the kitchen, +that asylum of steaming warmth, where you could talk and take your ease amid +the pleasant fumes of the coffeepot which was being kept warm over a handful of +glowing embers. She left Mme Maloir behind her. That lady was now busy reading +her fortune by the cards; she had never yet taken her hat off, but now in order +to be more at her ease she undid the strings and threw them back over her +shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +In the dressing room, where Zoé rapidly helped her on with a tea gown, Nana +revenged herself for the way in which they were all boring her by muttering +quiet curses upon the male sex. These big words caused the lady’s maid +not a little distress, for she saw with pain that her mistress was not rising +superior to her origin as quickly as she could have desired. She even made bold +to beg Madame to calm herself. +</p> + +<p> +“You bet,” was Nana’s crude answer; “they’re +swine; they glory in that sort of thing.” +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, she assumed her princesslike manner, as she was wont to call it. +But just when she was turning to go into the drawing room Zoé held her back and +herself introduced the Marquis de Chouard and the Count Muffat into the +dressing room. It was much better so. +</p> + +<p> +“I regret having kept you waiting, gentlemen,” said the young woman +with studied politeness. +</p> + +<p> +The two men bowed and seated themselves. A blind of embroidered tulle kept the +little room in twilight. It was the most elegant chamber in the flat, for it +was hung with some light-colored fabric and contained a cheval glass framed in +inlaid wood, a lounge chair and some others with arms and blue satin +upholsteries. On the toilet table the bouquets—roses, lilacs and +hyacinths—appeared like a very ruin of flowers. Their perfume was strong +and penetrating, while through the dampish air of the place, which was full of +the spoiled exhalations of the washstand, came occasional whiffs of a more +pungent scent, the scent of some grains or dry patchouli ground to fine powder +at the bottom of a cup. And as she gathered herself together and drew up her +dressing jacket, which had been ill fastened, Nana had all the appearance of +having been surprised at her toilet: her skin was still damp; she smiled and +looked quite startled amid her frills and laces. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, you will pardon our insistence,” said the Count Muffat +gravely. “We come on a quest. Monsieur and I are members of the +Benevolent Organization of the district.” +</p> + +<p> +The Marquis de Chouard hastened gallantly to add: +</p> + +<p> +“When we learned that a great artiste lived in this house we promised +ourselves that we would put the claims of our poor people before her in a very +special manner. Talent is never without a heart.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana pretended to be modest. She answered them with little assenting movements +of her head, making rapid reflections at the same time. It must be the old man +that had brought the other one: he had such wicked eyes. And yet the other was +not to be trusted either: the veins near his temples were so queerly puffed up. +He might quite well have come by himself. Ah, now that she thought of it, it +was this way: the porter had given them her name, and they had egged one +another on, each with his own ends in view. +</p> + +<p> +“Most certainly, gentlemen, you were quite right to come up,” she +said with a very good grace. +</p> + +<p> +But the electric bell made her tremble again. Another call, and that Zoé always +opening the door! She went on: +</p> + +<p> +“One is only too happy to be able to give.” +</p> + +<p> +At bottom she was flattered. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, madame,” rejoined the marquis, “if only you knew about +it! there’s such misery! Our district has more than three thousand poor +people in it, and yet it’s one of the richest. You cannot picture to +yourself anything like the present distress—children with no bread, women +ill, utterly without assistance, perishing of the cold!” +</p> + +<p> +“The poor souls!” cried Nana, very much moved. +</p> + +<p> +Such was her feeling of compassion that tears flooded her fine eyes. No longer +studying deportment, she leaned forward with a quick movement, and under her +open dressing jacket her neck became visible, while the bent position of her +knees served to outline the rounded contour of the thigh under the thin fabric +of her skirt. A little flush of blood appeared in the marquis’s +cadaverous cheeks. Count Muffat, who was on the point of speaking, lowered his +eyes. The air of that little room was too hot: it had the close, heavy warmth +of a greenhouse. The roses were withering, and intoxicating odors floated up +from the patchouli in the cup. +</p> + +<p> +“One would like to be very rich on occasions like this,” added +Nana. “Well, well, we each do what we can. Believe me, gentlemen, if I +had known—” +</p> + +<p> +She was on the point of being guilty of a silly speech, so melted was she at +heart. But she did not end her sentence and for a moment was worried at not +being able to remember where she had put her fifty francs on changing her +dress. But she recollected at last: they must be on the corner of her toilet +table under an inverted pomatum pot. As she was in the act of rising the bell +sounded for quite a long time. Capital! Another of them still! It would never +end. The count and the marquis had both risen, too, and the ears of the latter +seemed to be pricked up and, as it were, pointing toward the door; doubtless he +knew that kind of ring. Muffat looked at him; then they averted their gaze +mutually. They felt awkward and once more assumed their frigid bearing, the one +looking square-set and solid with his thick head of hair, the other drawing +back his lean shoulders, over which fell his fringe of thin white locks. +</p> + +<p> +“My faith,” said Nana, bringing the ten big silver pieces and quite +determined to laugh about it, “I am going to entrust you with this, +gentlemen. It is for the poor.” +</p> + +<p> +And the adorable little dimple in her chin became apparent. She assumed her +favorite pose, her amiable baby expression, as she held the pile of five-franc +pieces on her open palm and offered it to the men, as though she were saying to +them, “Now then, who wants some?” The count was the sharper of the +two. He took fifty francs but left one piece behind and, in order to gain +possession of it, had to pick it off the young woman’s very skin, a +moist, supple skin, the touch of which sent a thrill through him. She was +thoroughly merry and did not cease laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, gentlemen,” she continued. “Another time I hope to +give more.” +</p> + +<p> +The gentlemen no longer had any pretext for staying, and they bowed and went +toward the door. But just as they were about to go out the bell rang anew. The +marquis could not conceal a faint smile, while a frown made the count look more +grave than before. Nana detained them some seconds so as to give Zoé time to +find yet another corner for the newcomers. She did not relish meetings at her +house. Only this time the whole place must be packed! She was therefore much +relieved when she saw the drawing room empty and asked herself whether Zoé had +really stuffed them into the cupboards. +</p> + +<p> +“Au revoir, gentlemen,” she said, pausing on the threshold of the +drawing room. +</p> + +<p> +It was as though she lapped them in her laughing smile and clear, unclouded +glance. The Count Muffat bowed slightly. Despite his great social experience he +felt that he had lost his equilibrium. He needed air; he was overcome with the +dizzy feeling engendered in that dressing room with a scent of flowers, with a +feminine essence which choked him. And behind his back, the Marquis de Chouard, +who was sure that he could not be seen, made so bold as to wink at Nana, his +whole face suddenly altering its expression as he did so, and his tongue nigh +lolling from his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +When the young woman re-entered the little room, where Zoé was awaiting her +with letters and visiting cards, she cried out, laughing more heartily than +ever: +</p> + +<p> +“There are a pair of beggars for you! Why, they’ve got away with my +fifty francs!” +</p> + +<p> +She wasn’t vexed. It struck her as a joke that MEN should have got money +out of her. All the same, they were swine, for she hadn’t a sou left. But +at sight of the cards and the letters her bad temper returned. As to the +letters, why, she said “pass” to them. They were from fellows who, +after applauding her last night, were now making their declarations. And as to +the callers, they might go about their business! +</p> + +<p> +Zoé had stowed them all over the place, and she called attention to the great +capabilities of the flat, every room in which opened on the corridor. That +wasn’t the case at Mme Blanche’s, where people had all to go +through the drawing room. Oh yes, Mme Blanche had had plenty of bothers over +it! +</p> + +<p> +“You will send them all away,” continued Nana in pursuance of her +idea. “Begin with the nigger.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, as to him, madame, I gave him his marching orders a while +ago,” said Zoé with a grin. “He only wanted to tell Madame that he +couldn’t come to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +There was vast joy at this announcement, and Nana clapped her hands. He +wasn’t coming, what good luck! She would be free then! And she emitted +sighs of relief, as though she had been let off the most abominable of +tortures. Her first thought was for Daguenet. Poor duck, why, she had just +written to tell him to wait till Thursday! Quick, quick, Mme Maloir should +write a second letter! But Zoé announced that Mme Maloir had slipped away +unnoticed, according to her wont. Whereupon Nana, after talking of sending +someone to him, began to hesitate. She was very tired. A long night’s +sleep—oh, it would be so jolly! The thought of such a treat overcame her +at last. For once in a way she could allow herself that! +</p> + +<p> +“I shall go to bed when I come back from the theater,” she murmured +greedily, “and you won’t wake me before noon.” +</p> + +<p> +Then raising her voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, gee up! Shove the others downstairs!” +</p> + +<p> +Zoé did not move. She would never have dreamed of giving her mistress overt +advice, only now she made shift to give Madame the benefit of her experience +when Madame seemed to be running her hot head against a wall. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Steiner as well?” she queried curtly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, certainly!” replied Nana. “Before all the rest.” +</p> + +<p> +The maid still waited, in order to give her mistress time for reflection. Would +not Madame be proud to get such a rich gentleman away from her rival Rose +Mignon—a man, moreover, who was known in all the theaters? +</p> + +<p> +“Now make haste, my dear,” rejoined Nana, who perfectly understood +the situation, “and tell him he pesters me.” +</p> + +<p> +But suddenly there was a reversion of feeling. Tomorrow she might want him. +Whereupon she laughed, winked once or twice and with a naughty little gesture +cried out: +</p> + +<p> +“After all’s said and done, if I want him the best way even now is +to kick him out of doors.” +</p> + +<p> +Zoé seemed much impressed. Struck with a sudden admiration, she gazed at her +mistress and then went and chucked Steiner out of doors without further +deliberation. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Nana waited patiently for a second or two in order to give her time +to sweep the place out, as she phrased it. No one would ever have expected such +a siege! She craned her head into the drawing room and found it empty. The +dining room was empty too. But as she continued her visitation in a calmer +frame of mind, feeling certain that nobody remained behind, she opened the door +of a closet and came suddenly upon a very young man. He was sitting on the top +of a trunk, holding a huge bouquet on his knees and looking exceedingly quiet +and extremely well behaved. +</p> + +<p> +“Goodness gracious me!” she cried. “There’s one of +’em in there even now!” The very young man had jumped down at sight +of her and was blushing as red as a poppy. He did not know what to do with his +bouquet, which he kept shifting from one hand to the other, while his looks +betrayed the extreme of emotion. His youth, his embarrassment and the funny +figure he cut in his struggles with his flowers melted Nana’s heart, and +she burst into a pretty peal of laughter. Well, now, the very children were +coming, were they? Men were arriving in long clothes. So she gave up all airs +and graces, became familiar and maternal, tapped her leg and asked for fun: +</p> + +<p> +“You want me to wipe your nose; do you, baby?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied the lad in a low, supplicating tone. +</p> + +<p> +This answer made her merrier than ever. He was seventeen years old, he said. +His name was Georges Hugon. He was at the Variétés last night and now he had +come to see her. +</p> + +<p> +“These flowers are for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then give ’em to me, booby!” +</p> + +<p> +But as she took the bouquet from him he sprang upon her hands and kissed them +with all the gluttonous eagerness peculiar to his charming time of life. She +had to beat him to make him let go. There was a dreadful little dribbling +customer for you! But as she scolded him she flushed rosy-red and began +smiling. And with that she sent him about his business, telling him that he +might call again. He staggered away; he could not find the doors. +</p> + +<p> +Nana went back into her dressing room, where Francis made his appearance almost +simultaneously in order to dress her hair for the evening. Seated in front of +her mirror and bending her head beneath the hairdresser’s nimble hands, +she stayed silently meditative. Presently, however, Zoé entered, remarking: +</p> + +<p> +“There’s one of them, madame, who refuses to go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, he must be left alone,” she answered quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“If that comes to that they still keep arriving.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! Tell ’em to wait. When they begin to feel too hungry +they’ll be off.” Her humor had changed, and she was now delighted +to make people wait about for nothing. A happy thought struck her as very +amusing; she escaped from beneath Francis’ hands and ran and bolted the +doors. They might now crowd in there as much as they liked; they would probably +refrain from making a hole through the wall. Zoé could come in and out through +the little doorway leading to the kitchen. However, the electric bell rang more +lustily than ever. Every five minutes a clear, lively little ting-ting recurred +as regularly as if it had been produced by some well-adjusted piece of +mechanism. And Nana counted these rings to while the time away withal. But +suddenly she remembered something. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, where are my burnt almonds?” +</p> + +<p> +Francis, too, was forgetting about the burnt almonds. But now he drew a paper +bag from one of the pockets of his frock coat and presented it to her with the +discreet gesture of a man who is offering a lady a present. Nevertheless, +whenever his accounts came to be settled, he always put the burnt almonds down +on his bill. Nana put the bag between her knees and set to work munching her +sweetmeats, turning her head from time to time under the hairdresser’s +gently compelling touch. +</p> + +<p> +“The deuce,” she murmured after a silence, “there’s a +troop for you!” +</p> + +<p> +Thrice, in quick succession, the bell had sounded. Its summonses became fast +and furious. There were modest tintinnabulations which seemed to stutter and +tremble like a first avowal; there were bold rings which vibrated under some +rough touch and hasty rings which sounded through the house with shivering +rapidity. It was a regular peal, as Zoé said, a peal loud enough to upset the +neighborhood, seeing that a whole mob of men were jabbing at the ivory button, +one after the other. That old joker Bordenave had really been far too lavish +with her address. Why, the whole of yesterday’s house was coming! +</p> + +<p> +“By the by, Francis, have you five louis?” said Nana. +</p> + +<p> +He drew back, looked carefully at her headdress and then quietly remarked: +</p> + +<p> +“Five louis, that’s according!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you know if you want securities . . .” she continued. +</p> + +<p> +And without finishing her sentence, she indicated the adjoining rooms with a +sweeping gesture. Francis lent the five louis. Zoé, during each momentary +respite, kept coming in to get Madame’s things ready. Soon she came to +dress her while the hairdresser lingered with the intention of giving some +finishing touches to the headdress. But the bell kept continually disturbing +the lady’s maid, who left Madame with her stays half laced and only one +shoe on. Despite her long experience, the maid was losing her head. After +bringing every nook and corner into requisition and putting men pretty well +everywhere, she had been driven to stow them away in threes and fours, which +was a course of procedure entirely opposed to her principles. So much the worse +for them if they ate each other up! It would afford more room! And Nana, +sheltering behind her carefully bolted door, began laughing at them, declaring +that she could hear them pant. They ought to be looking lovely in there with +their tongues hanging out like a lot of bowwows sitting round on their behinds. +Yesterday’s success was not yet over, and this pack of men had followed +up her scent. +</p> + +<p> +“Provided they don’t break anything,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +She began to feel some anxiety, for she fancied she felt their hot breath +coming through chinks in the door. But Zoé ushered Labordette in, and the young +woman gave a little shout of relief. He was anxious to tell her about an +account he had settled for her at the justice of peace’s court. But she +did not attend and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take you along with me. We’ll have dinner together, and +afterward you shall escort me to the Variétés. I don’t go on before +half-past nine.” +</p> + +<p> +Good old Labordette, how lucky it was he had come! He was a fellow who never +asked for any favors. He was only the friend of the women, whose little bits of +business he arranged for them. Thus on his way in he had dismissed the +creditors in the anteroom. Indeed, those good folks really didn’t want to +be paid. On the contrary, if they HAD been pressing for payment it was only for +the sake of complimenting Madame and of personally renewing their offers of +service after her grand success of yesterday. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s be off, let’s be off,” said Nana, who was +dressed by now. +</p> + +<p> +But at that moment Zoé came in again, shouting: +</p> + +<p> +“I refuse to open the door any more. They’re waiting in a crowd all +down the stairs.” +</p> + +<p> +A crowd all down the stairs! Francis himself, despite the English stolidity of +manner which he was wont to affect, began laughing as he put up his combs. +Nana, who had already taken Labordette’s arm, pushed him into the kitchen +and effected her escape. At last she was delivered from the men and felt +happily conscious that she might now enjoy his society anywhere without fear of +stupid interruptions. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall see me back to my door,” she said as they went down the +kitchen stairs. “I shall feel safe, in that case. Just fancy, I want to +sleep a whole night quite by myself—yes, a whole night! It’s sort +of infatuation, dear boy!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"></a> CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p> +The Countess Sabine, as it had become customary to call Mme Muffat de Beuville +in order to distinguish her from the count’s mother, who had died the +year before, was wont to receive every Tuesday in her house in the Rue +Miromesnil at the corner of the Rue de Pentièvre. It was a great square +building, and the Muffats had lived in it for a hundred years or more. On the +side of the street its frontage seemed to slumber, so lofty was it and dark, so +sad and convent-like, with its great outer shutters, which were nearly always +closed. And at the back in a little dark garden some trees had grown up and +were straining toward the sunlight with such long slender branches that their +tips were visible above the roof. +</p> + +<p> +This particular Tuesday, toward ten o’clock in the evening, there were +scarcely a dozen people in the drawing room. When she was only expecting +intimate friends the countess opened neither the little drawing room nor the +dining room. One felt more at home on such occasions and chatted round the +fire. The drawing room was very large and very lofty; its four windows looked +out upon the garden, from which, on this rainy evening of the close of April, +issued a sensation of damp despite the great logs burning on the hearth. The +sun never shone down into the room; in the daytime it was dimly lit up by a +faint greenish light, but at night, when the lamps and the chandelier were +burning, it looked merely a serious old chamber with its massive mahogany First +Empire furniture, its hangings and chair coverings of yellow velvet, stamped +with a large design. Entering it, one was in an atmosphere of cold dignity, of +ancient manners, of a vanished age, the air of which seemed devotional. +</p> + +<p> +Opposite the armchair, however, in which the count’s mother had +died—a square armchair of formal design and inhospitable padding, which +stood by the hearthside—the Countess Sabine was seated in a deep and cozy +lounge, the red silk upholsteries of which were soft as eider down. It was the +only piece of modern furniture there, a fanciful item introduced amid the +prevailing severity and clashing with it. +</p> + +<p> +“So we shall have the shah of Persia,” the young woman was saying. +</p> + +<p> +They were talking of the crowned heads who were coming to Paris for the +exhibition. Several ladies had formed a circle round the hearth, and Mme du +Joncquoy, whose brother, a diplomat, had just fulfilled a mission in the East, +was giving some details about the court of Nazr-ed-Din. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you out of sorts, my dear?” asked Mme Chantereau, the wife of +an ironmaster, seeing the countess shivering slightly and growing pale as she +did so. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, not at all,” replied the latter, smiling. “I felt a +little cold. This drawing room takes so long to warm.” +</p> + +<p> +And with that she raised her melancholy eyes and scanned the walls from floor +to ceiling. Her daughter Estelle, a slight, insignificant-looking girl of +sixteen, the thankless period of life, quitted the large footstool on which she +was sitting and silently came and propped up one of the logs which had rolled +from its place. But Mme de Chezelles, a convent friend of Sabine’s and +her junior by five years, exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, I would gladly be possessed of a drawing room such as yours! At +any rate, you are able to receive visitors. They only build boxes nowadays. Oh, +if I were in your place!” +</p> + +<p> +She ran giddily on and with lively gestures explained how she would alter the +hangings, the seats—everything, in fact. Then she would give balls to +which all Paris should run. Behind her seat her husband, a magistrate, stood +listening with serious air. It was rumored that she deceived him quite openly, +but people pardoned her offense and received her just the same, because, they +said, “she’s not answerable for her actions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh that Leonide!” the Countess Sabine contented herself by +murmuring, smiling her faint smile the while. +</p> + +<p> +With a languid movement she eked out the thought that was in her. After having +lived there seventeen years she certainly would not alter her drawing room now. +It would henceforth remain just such as her mother-in-law had wished to +preserve it during her lifetime. Then returning to the subject of conversation: +</p> + +<p> +“I have been assured,” she said, “that we shall also have the +king of Prussia and the emperor of Russia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, some very fine fêtes are promised,” said Mme du Joncquoy. +</p> + +<p> +The banker Steiner, not long since introduced into this circle by Leonide de +Chezelles, who was acquainted with the whole of Parisian society, was sitting +chatting on a sofa between two of the windows. He was questioning a deputy, +from whom he was endeavoring with much adroitness to elicit news about a +movement on the stock exchange of which he had his suspicions, while the Count +Muffat, standing in front of them, was silently listening to their talk, +looking, as he did so, even grayer than was his wont. +</p> + +<p> +Four or five young men formed another group near the door round the Count +Xavier de Vandeuvres, who in a low tone was telling them an anecdote. It was +doubtless a very risky one, for they were choking with laughter. Companionless +in the center of the room, a stout man, a chief clerk at the Ministry of the +Interior, sat heavily in an armchair, dozing with his eyes open. But when one +of the young men appeared to doubt the truth of the anecdote Vandeuvres raised +his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“You are too much of a skeptic, Foucarmont; you’ll spoil all your +pleasures that way.” +</p> + +<p> +And he returned to the ladies with a laugh. Last scion of a great family, of +feminine manners and witty tongue, he was at that time running through a +fortune with a rage of life and appetite which nothing could appease. His +racing stable, which was one of the best known in Paris, cost him a fabulous +amount of money; his betting losses at the Imperial Club amounted monthly to an +alarming number of pounds, while taking one year with another, his mistresses +would be always devouring now a farm, now some acres of arable land or forest, +which amounted, in fact, to quite a respectable slice of his vast estates in +Picardy. +</p> + +<p> +“I advise you to call other people skeptics! Why, you don’t believe +a thing yourself,” said Leonide, making shift to find him a little space +in which to sit down at her side. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s you who spoil your own pleasures.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly,” he replied. “I wish to make others benefit by my +experience.” +</p> + +<p> +But the company imposed silence on him: he was scandalizing M. Venot. And, the +ladies having changed their positions, a little old man of sixty, with bad +teeth and a subtle smile, became visible in the depths of an easy chair. There +he sat as comfortably as in his own house, listening to everybody’s +remarks and making none himself. With a slight gesture he announced himself by +no means scandalized. Vandeuvres once more assumed his dignified bearing and +added gravely: +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Venot is fully aware that I believe what it is one’s duty +to believe.” +</p> + +<p> +It was an act of faith, and even Leonide appeared satisfied. The young men at +the end of the room no longer laughed; the company were old fogies, and +amusement was not to be found there. A cold breath of wind had passed over +them, and amid the ensuing silence Steiner’s nasal voice became audible. +The deputy’s discreet answers were at last driving him to desperation. +For a second or two the Countess Sabine looked at the fire; then she resumed +the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw the king of Prussia at Baden-Baden last year. He’s still +full of vigor for his age.” +</p> + +<p> +“Count Bismarck is to accompany him,” said Mme du Joncquoy. +“Do you know the count? I lunched with him at my brother’s ages +ago, when he was representative of Prussia in Paris. There’s a man now +whose latest successes I cannot in the least understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why?” asked Mme Chantereau. +</p> + +<p> +“Good gracious, how am I to explain? He doesn’t please me. His +appearance is boorish and underbred. Besides, so far as I am concerned, I find +him stupid.” +</p> + +<p> +With that the whole room spoke of Count Bismarck, and opinions differed +considerably. Vandeuvres knew him and assured the company that he was great in +his cups and at play. But when the discussion was at its height the door was +opened, and Hector de la Falois made his appearance. Fauchery, who followed in +his wake, approached the countess and, bowing: +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” he said, “I have not forgotten your extremely kind +invitation.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled and made a pretty little speech. The journalist, after bowing to the +count, stood for some moments in the middle of the drawing room. He only +recognized Steiner and accordingly looked rather out of his element. But +Vandeuvres turned and came and shook hands with him. And forthwith, in his +delight at the meeting and with a sudden desire to be confidential, Fauchery +buttonholed him and said in a low voice: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s tomorrow. Are you going?” +</p> + +<p> +“Egad, yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“At midnight, at her house. +</p> + +<p> +“I know, I know. I’m going with Blanche.” +</p> + +<p> +He wanted to escape and return to the ladies in order to urge yet another +reason in M. de Bismarck’s favor. But Fauchery detained him. +</p> + +<p> +“You never will guess whom she has charged me to invite.” +</p> + +<p> +And with a slight nod he indicated Count Muffat, who was just then discussing a +knotty point in the budget with Steiner and the deputy. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s impossible,” said Vandeuvres, stupefaction and +merriment in his tones. “My word on it! I had to swear that I would bring +him to her. Indeed, that’s one of my reasons for coming here.” +</p> + +<p> +Both laughed silently, and Vandeuvres, hurriedly rejoining the circle of +ladies, cried out: +</p> + +<p> +“I declare that on the contrary Monsieur de Bismarck is exceedingly +witty. For instance, one evening he said a charmingly epigrammatic thing in my +presence.” +</p> + +<p> +La Faloise meanwhile had heard the few rapid sentences thus whisperingly +interchanged, and he gazed at Fauchery in hopes of an explanation which was not +vouchsafed him. Of whom were they talking, and what were they going to do at +midnight tomorrow? He did not leave his cousin’s side again. The latter +had gone and seated himself. He was especially interested by the Countess +Sabine. Her name had often been mentioned in his presence, and he knew that, +having been married at the age of seventeen, she must now be thirty-four and +that since her marriage she had passed a cloistered existence with her husband +and her mother-in-law. In society some spoke of her as a woman of religious +chastity, while others pitied her and recalled to memory her charming bursts of +laughter and the burning glances of her great eyes in the days prior to her +imprisonment in this old town house. Fauchery scrutinized her and yet +hesitated. One of his friends, a captain who had recently died in Mexico, had, +on the very eve of his departure, made him one of those gross postprandial +confessions, of which even the most prudent among men are occasionally guilty. +But of this he only retained a vague recollection; they had dined not wisely +but too well that evening, and when he saw the countess, in her black dress and +with her quiet smile, seated in that Old World drawing room, he certainly had +his doubts. A lamp which had been placed behind her threw into clear relief her +dark, delicate, plump side face, wherein a certain heaviness in the contours of +the mouth alone indicated a species of imperious sensuality. +</p> + +<p> +“What do they want with their Bismarck?” muttered La Faloise, whose +constant pretense it was to be bored in good society. “One’s ready +to kick the bucket here. A pretty idea of yours it was to want to come!” +</p> + +<p> +Fauchery questioned him abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +“Now tell me, does the countess admit someone to her embraces?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh dear, no, no! My dear fellow!” he stammered, manifestly taken +aback and quite forgetting his pose. “Where d’you think we +are?” +</p> + +<p> +After which he was conscious of a want of up-to-dateness in this outburst of +indignation and, throwing himself back on a great sofa, he added: +</p> + +<p> +“Gad! I say no! But I don’t know much about it. There’s a +little chap out there, Foucarmont they call him, who’s to be met with +everywhere and at every turn. One’s seen faster men than that, though, +you bet. However, it doesn’t concern me, and indeed, all I know is that +if the countess indulges in high jinks she’s still pretty sly about it, +for the thing never gets about—nobody talks.” +</p> + +<p> +Then although Fauchery did not take the trouble to question him, he told him +all he knew about the Muffats. Amid the conversation of the ladies, which still +continued in front of the hearth, they both spoke in subdued tones, and, seeing +them there with their white cravats and gloves, one might have supposed them to +be discussing in chosen phraseology some really serious topic. Old Mme Muffat +then, whom La Faloise had been well acquainted with, was an insufferable old +lady, always hand in glove with the priests. She had the grand manner, besides, +and an authoritative way of comporting herself, which bent everybody to her +will. As to Muffat, he was an old man’s child; his father, a general, had +been created count by Napoleon I, and naturally he had found himself in favor +after the second of December. He hadn’t much gaiety of manner either, but +he passed for a very honest man of straightforward intentions and +understanding. Add to these a code of old aristocratic ideas and such a lofty +conception of his duties at court, of his dignities and of his virtues, that he +behaved like a god on wheels. It was the Mamma Muffat who had given him this +precious education with its daily visits to the confessional, its complete +absence of escapades and of all that is meant by youth. He was a practicing +Christian and had attacks of faith of such fiery violence that they might be +likened to accesses of burning fever. Finally, in order to add a last touch to +the picture, La Faloise whispered something in his cousin’s ear. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t say so!” said the latter. +</p> + +<p> +“On my word of honor, they swore it was true! He was still like that when +he married.” +</p> + +<p> +Fauchery chuckled as he looked at the count, whose face, with its fringe of +whiskers and absence of mustaches, seemed to have grown squarer and harder now +that he was busy quoting figures to the writhing, struggling Steiner. +</p> + +<p> +“My word, he’s got a phiz for it!” murmured Fauchery. +“A pretty present he made his wife! Poor little thing, how he must have +bored her! She knows nothing about anything, I’ll wager!” +</p> + +<p> +Just then the Countess Sabine was saying something to him. But he did not hear +her, so amusing and extraordinary did he esteem the Muffats’ case. She +repeated the question. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Fauchery, have you not published a sketch of Monsieur de +Bismarck? You spoke with him once?” +</p> + +<p> +He got up briskly and approached the circle of ladies, endeavoring to collect +himself and soon with perfect ease of manner finding an answer: +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, madame, I assure you I wrote that ‘portrait’ with +the help of biographies which had been published in Germany. I have never seen +Monsieur de Bismarck.” +</p> + +<p> +He remained beside the countess and, while talking with her, continued his +meditations. She did not look her age; one would have set her down as being +twenty-eight at most, for her eyes, above all, which were filled with the dark +blue shadow of her long eyelashes, retained the glowing light of youth. Bred in +a divided family, so that she used to spend one month with the Marquis de +Chouard, another with the marquise, she had been married very young, urged on, +doubtless, by her father, whom she embarrassed after her mother’s death. +A terrible man was the marquis, a man about whom strange tales were beginning +to be told, and that despite his lofty piety! Fauchery asked if he should have +the honor of meeting him. Certainly her father was coming, but only very late; +he had so much work on hand! The journalist thought he knew where the old +gentleman passed his evenings and looked grave. But a mole, which he noticed +close to her mouth on the countess’s left cheek, surprised him. Nana had +precisely the same mole. It was curious. Tiny hairs curled up on it, only they +were golden in Nana’s case, black as jet in this. Ah well, never mind! +This woman enjoyed nobody’s embraces. +</p> + +<p> +“I have always felt a wish to know Queen Augusta,” she said. +“They say she is so good, so devout. Do you think she will accompany the +king?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not thought that she will, madame,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +She had no lovers: the thing was only too apparent. One had only to look at her +there by the side of that daughter of hers, sitting so insignificant and +constrained on her footstool. That sepulchral drawing room of hers, which +exhaled odors suggestive of being in a church, spoke as plainly as words could +of the iron hand, the austere mode of existence, that weighed her down. There +was nothing suggestive of her own personality in that ancient abode, black with +the damps of years. It was Muffat who made himself felt there, who dominated +his surroundings with his devotional training, his penances and his fasts. But +the sight of the little old gentleman with the black teeth and subtle smile +whom he suddenly discovered in his armchair behind the group of ladies afforded +him a yet more decisive argument. He knew the personage. It was Theophile +Venot, a retired lawyer who had made a specialty of church cases. He had left +off practice with a handsome fortune and was now leading a sufficiently +mysterious existence, for he was received everywhere, treated with great +deference and even somewhat feared, as though he had been the representative of +a mighty force, an occult power, which was felt to be at his back. +Nevertheless, his behavior was very humble. He was churchwarden at the +Madeleine Church and had simply accepted the post of deputy mayor at the town +house of the Ninth Arrondissement in order, as he said, to have something to do +in his leisure time. Deuce take it, the countess was well guarded; there was +nothing to be done in that quarter. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re right, it’s enough to make one kick the bucket +here,” said Fauchery to his cousin when he had made good his escape from +the circle of ladies. “We’ll hook it!” +</p> + +<p> +But Steiner, deserted at last by the Count Muffat and the deputy, came up in a +fury. Drops of perspiration stood on his forehead, and he grumbled huskily: +</p> + +<p> +“Gad! Let ’em tell me nothing, if nothing they want to tell me. I +shall find people who will talk.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he pushed the journalist into a corner and, altering his tone, said in +accents of victory: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s tomorrow, eh? I’m of the party, my bully!” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” muttered Fauchery with some astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t know about it. Oh, I had lots of bother to find her at +home. Besides, Mignon never would leave me alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“But they’re to be there, are the Mignons.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she told me so. In fact, she did receive my visit, and she invited +me. Midnight punctually, after the play.” +</p> + +<p> +The banker was beaming. He winked and added with a peculiar emphasis on the +words: +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve worked it, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, what?” said Fauchery, pretending not to understand him. +“She wanted to thank me for my article, so she came and called on +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes. You fellows are fortunate. You get rewarded. By the by, who +pays the piper tomorrow?” +</p> + +<p> +The journalist made a slight outward movement with his arms, as though he would +intimate that no one had ever been able to find out. But Vandeuvres called to +Steiner, who knew M. de Bismarck. Mme du Joncquoy had almost convinced herself +of the truth of her suppositions; she concluded with these words: +</p> + +<p> +“He gave me an unpleasant impression. I think his face is evil. But I am +quite willing to believe that he has a deal of wit. It would account for his +successes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt,” said the banker with a faint smile. He was a Jew +from Frankfort. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile La Faloise at last made bold to question his cousin. He followed him +up and got inside his guard: +</p> + +<p> +“There’s supper at a woman’s tomorrow evening? With which of +them, eh? With which of them?” +</p> + +<p> +Fauchery motioned to him that they were overheard and must respect the +conventions here. The door had just been opened anew, and an old lady had come +in, followed by a young man in whom the journalist recognized the truant +schoolboy, perpetrator of the famous and as yet unforgotten “trés +chic” of the Blonde Venus first night. This lady’s arrival caused a +stir among the company. The Countess Sabine had risen briskly from her seat in +order to go and greet her, and she had taken both her hands in hers and +addressed her as her “dear Madame Hugon.” Seeing that his cousin +viewed this little episode with some curiosity, La Faloise sought to arouse his +interest and in a few brief phrases explained the position. Mme Hugon, widow of +a notary, lived in retirement at Les Fondettes, an old estate of her +family’s in the neighborhood of Orleans, but she also kept up a small +establishment in Paris in a house belonging to her in the Rue de Richelieu and +was now passing some weeks there in order to settle her youngest son, who was +reading the law and in his “first year.” In old times she had been +a dear friend of the Marquise de Chouard and had assisted at the birth of the +countess, who, prior to her marriage, used to stay at her house for months at a +time and even now was quite familiarly treated by her. +</p> + +<p> +“I have brought Georges to see you,” said Mme Hugon to Sabine. +“He’s grown, I trust.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man with his clear eyes and the fair curls which suggested a girl +dressed up as a boy bowed easily to the countess and reminded her of a bout of +battledore and shuttlecock they had had together two years ago at Les +Fondettes. +</p> + +<p> +“Philippe is not in Paris?” asked Count Muffat. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, no!” replied the old lady. “He is always in +garrison at Bourges.” She had seated herself and began talking with +considerable pride of her eldest son, a great big fellow who, after enlisting +in a fit of waywardness, had of late very rapidly attained the rank of +lieutenant. All the ladies behaved to her with respectful sympathy, and +conversation was resumed in a tone at once more amiable and more refined. +Fauchery, at sight of that respectable Mme Hugon, that motherly face lit up +with such a kindly smile beneath its broad tresses of white hair, thought how +foolish he had been to suspect the Countess Sabine even for an instant. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, the big chair with the red silk upholsteries in which the +countess sat had attracted his attention. Its style struck him as crude, not to +say fantastically suggestive, in that dim old drawing room. Certainly it was +not the count who had inveigled thither that nest of voluptuous idleness. One +might have described it as an experiment, marking the birth of an appetite and +of an enjoyment. Then he forgot where he was, fell into brown study and in +thought even harked back to that vague confidential announcement imparted to +him one evening in the dining room of a restaurant. Impelled by a sort of +sensuous curiosity, he had always wanted an introduction into the +Muffats’ circle, and now that his friend was in Mexico through all +eternity, who could tell what might happen? “We shall see,” he +thought. It was a folly, doubtless, but the idea kept tormenting him; he felt +himself drawn on and his animal nature aroused. The big chair had a rumpled +look—its nether cushions had been tumbled, a fact which now amused him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, shall we be off?” asked La Faloise, mentally vowing that +once outside he would find out the name of the woman with whom people were +going to sup. +</p> + +<p> +“All in good time,” replied Fauchery. +</p> + +<p> +But he was no longer in any hurry and excused himself on the score of the +invitation he had been commissioned to give and had as yet not found a +convenient opportunity to mention. The ladies were chatting about an assumption +of the veil, a very touching ceremony by which the whole of Parisian society +had for the last three days been greatly moved. It was the eldest daughter of +the Baronne de Fougeray, who, under stress of an irresistible vocation, had +just entered the Carmelite Convent. Mme Chantereau, a distant cousin of the +Fougerays, told how the baroness had been obliged to take to her bed the day +after the ceremony, so overdone was she with weeping. +</p> + +<p> +“I had a very good place,” declared Leonide. “I found it +interesting.” +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, Mme Hugon pitied the poor mother. How sad to lose a daughter in +such a way! +</p> + +<p> +“I am accused of being overreligious,” she said in her quiet, frank +manner, “but that does not prevent me thinking the children very cruel +who obstinately commit such suicide.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s a terrible thing,” murmured the countess, +shivering a little, as became a chilly person, and huddling herself anew in the +depths of her big chair in front of the fire. +</p> + +<p> +Then the ladies fell into a discussion. But their voices were discreetly +attuned, while light trills of laughter now and again interrupted the gravity +of their talk. The two lamps on the chimney piece, which had shades of +rose-colored lace, cast a feeble light over them while on scattered pieces of +furniture there burned but three other lamps, so that the great drawing room +remained in soft shadow. +</p> + +<p> +Steiner was getting bored. He was describing to Fauchery an escapade of that +little Mme de Chezelles, whom he simply referred to as Leonide. “A +blackguard woman,” he said, lowering his voice behind the ladies’ +armchairs. Fauchery looked at her as she sat quaintly perched, in her +voluminous ball dress of pale blue satin, on the corner of her armchair. She +looked as slight and impudent as a boy, and he ended by feeling astonished at +seeing her there. People comported themselves better at Caroline +Hequet’s, whose mother had arranged her house on serious principles. Here +was a perfect subject for an article. What a strange world was this world of +Paris! The most rigid circles found themselves invaded. Evidently that silent +Theophile Venot, who contented himself by smiling and showing his ugly teeth, +must have been a legacy from the late countess. So, too, must have been such +ladies of mature age as Mme Chantereau and Mme du Joncquoy, besides four or +five old gentlemen who sat motionless in corners. The Count Muffat attracted to +the house a series of functionaries, distinguished by the immaculate personal +appearance which was at that time required of the men at the Tuileries. Among +others there was the chief clerk, who still sat solitary in the middle of the +room with his closely shorn cheeks, his vacant glance and his coat so tight of +fit that he could scarce venture to move. Almost all the young men and certain +individuals with distinguished, aristocratic manners were the Marquis de +Chouard’s contribution to the circle, he having kept touch with the +Legitimist party after making his peace with the empire on his entrance into +the Council of State. There remained Leonide de Chezelles and Steiner, an ugly +little knot against which Mme Hugon’s elderly and amiable serenity stood +out in strange contrast. And Fauchery, having sketched out his article, named +this last group “Countess Sabine’s little clique.” +</p> + +<p> +“On another occasion,” continued Steiner in still lower tones, +“Leonide got her tenor down to Montauban. She was living in the Château +de Beaurecueil, two leagues farther off, and she used to come in daily in a +carriage and pair in order to visit him at the Lion d’Or, where he had +put up. The carriage used to wait at the door, and Leonide would stay for hours +in the house, while a crowd gathered round and looked at the horses.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause in the talk, and some solemn moments passed silently by in +the lofty room. Two young men were whispering, but they ceased in their turn, +and the hushed step of Count Muffat was alone audible as he crossed the floor. +The lamps seemed to have paled; the fire was going out; a stern shadow fell +athwart the old friends of the house where they sat in the chairs they had +occupied there for forty years back. It was as though in a momentary pause of +conversation the invited guests had become suddenly aware that the +count’s mother, in all her glacial stateliness, had returned among them. +</p> + +<p> +But the Countess Sabine had once more resumed: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, at last the news of it got about. The young man was likely to die, +and that would explain the poor child’s adoption of the religious life. +Besides, they say that Monsieur de Fougeray would never have given his consent +to the marriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“They say heaps of other things too,” cried Leonide giddily. +</p> + +<p> +She fell a-laughing; she refused to talk. Sabine was won over by this gaiety +and put her handkerchief up to her lips. And in the vast and solemn room their +laughter sounded a note which struck Fauchery strangely, the note of delicate +glass breaking. Assuredly here was the first beginning of the “little +rift.” Everyone began talking again. Mme du Joncquoy demurred; Mme +Chantereau knew for certain that a marriage had been projected but that matters +had gone no further; the men even ventured to give their opinions. For some +minutes the conversation was a babel of opinions, in which the divers elements +of the circle, whether Bonapartist or Legitimist or merely worldly and +skeptical, appeared to jostle one another simultaneously. Estelle had rung to +order wood to be put on the fire; the footman turned up the lamps; the room +seemed to wake from sleep. Fauchery began smiling, as though once more at his +ease. +</p> + +<p> +“Egad, they become the brides of God when they couldn’t be their +cousin’s,” said Vandeuvres between his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +The subject bored him, and he had rejoined Fauchery. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear fellow, have you ever seen a woman who was really loved become a +nun?” +</p> + +<p> +He did not wait for an answer, for he had had enough of the topic, and in a +hushed voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me,” he said, “how many of us will there be tomorrow? +There’ll be the Mignons, Steiner, yourself, Blanche and I; who +else?” +</p> + +<p> +“Caroline, I believe, and Simonne and Gaga without doubt. One never knows +exactly, does one? On such occasions one expects the party will number twenty, +and you’re really thirty.” +</p> + +<p> +Vandeuvres, who was looking at the ladies, passed abruptly to another subject: +</p> + +<p> +“She must have been very nice-looking, that Du Joncquoy woman, some +fifteen years ago. Poor Estelle has grown lankier than ever. What a nice lath +to put into a bed!” +</p> + +<p> +But interrupting himself, he returned to the subject of tomorrow’s +supper. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s so tiresome of those shows is that it’s always the +same set of women. One wants a novelty. Do try and invent a new girl. By Jove, +happy thought! I’ll go and beseech that stout man to bring the woman he +was trotting about the other evening at the Variétés.” +</p> + +<p> +He referred to the chief clerk, sound asleep in the middle of the drawing room. +Fauchery, afar off, amused himself by following this delicate negotiation. +Vandeuvres had sat himself down by the stout man, who still looked very sedate. +For some moments they both appeared to be discussing with much propriety the +question before the house, which was, “How can one discover the exact +state of feeling that urges a young girl to enter into the religious +life?” Then the count returned with the remark: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s impossible. He swears she’s straight. She’d +refuse, and yet I would have wagered that I once saw her at +Laure’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, what? You go to Laure’s?” murmured Fauchery with a +chuckle. “You venture your reputation in places like that? I was under +the impression that it was only we poor devils of outsiders who—” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, dear boy, one ought to see every side of life.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they sneered and with sparkling eyes they compared notes about the table +d’hôte in the Rue des Martyrs, where big Laure Piedefer ran a dinner at +three francs a head for little women in difficulties. A nice hole, where all +the little women used to kiss Laure on the lips! And as the Countess Sabine, +who had overheard a stray word or two, turned toward them, they started back, +rubbing shoulders in excited merriment. They had not noticed that Georges Hugon +was close by and that he was listening to them, blushing so hotly the while +that a rosy flush had spread from his ears to his girlish throat. The infant +was full of shame and of ecstasy. From the moment his mother had turned him +loose in the room he had been hovering in the wake of Mme de Chezelles, the +only woman present who struck him as being the thing. But after all is said and +done, Nana licked her to fits! +</p> + +<p> +“Yesterday evening,” Mme Hugon was saying, “Georges took me +to the play. Yes, we went to the Variétés, where I certainly had not set foot +for the last ten years. That child adores music. As to me, I wasn’t in +the least amused, but he was so happy! They put extraordinary pieces on the +stage nowadays. Besides, music delights me very little, I confess.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! You don’t love music, madame?” cried Mme du Joncquoy, +lifting her eyes to heaven. “Is it possible there should be people who +don’t love music?” +</p> + +<p> +The exclamation of surprise was general. No one had dropped a single word +concerning the performance at the Variétés, at which the good Mme Hugon had not +understood any of the allusions. The ladies knew the piece but said nothing +about it, and with that they plunged into the realm of sentiment and began +discussing the masters in a tone of refined and ecstatical admiration. Mme du +Joncquoy was not fond of any of them save Weber, while Mme Chantereau stood up +for the Italians. The ladies’ voices had turned soft and languishing, and +in front of the hearth one might have fancied one’s self listening in +meditative, religious retirement to the faint, discreet music of a little +chapel. +</p> + +<p> +“Now let’s see,” murmured Vandeuvres, bringing Fauchery back +into the middle of the drawing room, “notwithstanding it all, we must +invent a woman for tomorrow. Shall we ask Steiner about it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, when Steiner’s got hold of a woman,” said the +journalist, “it’s because Paris has done with her.” +</p> + +<p> +Vandeuvres, however, was searching about on every side. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a bit,” he continued, “the other day I met Foucarmont +with a charming blonde. I’ll go and tell him to bring her.” +</p> + +<p> +And he called to Foucarmont. They exchanged a few words rapidly. There must +have been some sort of complication, for both of them, moving carefully forward +and stepping over the dresses of the ladies, went off in quest of another young +man with whom they continued the discussion in the embrasure of a window. +Fauchery was left to himself and had just decided to proceed to the hearth, +where Mme du Joncquoy was announcing that she never heard Weber played without +at the same time seeing lakes, forests and sunrises over landscapes steeped in +dew, when a hand touched his shoulder and a voice behind him remarked: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not civil of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What d’you mean?” he asked, turning round and recognizing La +Faloise. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, about that supper tomorrow. You might easily have got me +invited.” +</p> + +<p> +Fauchery was at length about to state his reasons when Vandeuvres came back to +tell him: +</p> + +<p> +“It appears it isn’t a girl of Foucarmont’s. It’s that +man’s flame out there. She won’t be able to come. What a piece of +bad luck! But all the same I’ve pressed Foucarmont into the service, and +he’s going to try to get Louise from the Palais-Royal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it not true, Monsieur de Vandeuvres,” asked Mme Chantereau, +raising her voice, “that Wagner’s music was hissed last +Sunday?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, frightfully, madame,” he made answer, coming forward with his +usual exquisite politeness. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as they did not detain him, he moved off and continued whispering in the +journalist’s ear: +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to press some more of them. These young fellows must +know some little ladies.” +</p> + +<p> +With that he was observed to accost men and to engage them in conversation in +his usual amiable and smiling way in every corner of the drawing room. He mixed +with the various groups, said something confidently to everyone and walked away +again with a sly wink and a secret signal or two. It looked as though he were +giving out a watchword in that easy way of his. The news went round; the place +of meeting was announced, while the ladies’ sentimental dissertations on +music served to conceal the small, feverish rumor of these recruiting +operations. +</p> + +<p> +“No, do not speak of your Germans,” Mme Chantereau was saying. +“Song is gaiety; song is light. Have you heard Patti in the Barber of +Seville?” +</p> + +<p> +“She was delicious!” murmured Leonide, who strummed none but +operatic airs on her piano. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the Countess Sabine had rung. When on Tuesdays the number of visitors +was small, tea was handed round the drawing room itself. While directing a +footman to clear a round table the countess followed the Count de Vandeuvres +with her eyes. She still smiled that vague smile which slightly disclosed her +white teeth, and as the count passed she questioned him. +</p> + +<p> +“What ARE you plotting, Monsieur de Vandeuvres?” +</p> + +<p> +“What am I plotting, madame?” he answered quietly. “Nothing +at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really! I saw you so busy. Pray, wait, you shall make yourself +useful!” +</p> + +<p> +She placed an album in his hands and asked him to put it on the piano. But he +found means to inform Fauchery in a low whisper that they would have Tatan +Nene, the most finely developed girl that winter, and Maria Blond, the same who +had just made her first appearance at the Folies-Dramatiques. Meanwhile La +Faloise stopped him at every step in hopes of receiving an invitation. He ended +by offering himself, and Vandeuvres engaged him in the plot at once; only he +made him promise to bring Clarisse with him, and when La Faloise pretended to +scruple about certain points he quieted him by the remark: +</p> + +<p> +“Since I invite you that’s enough!” +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, La Faloise would have much liked to know the name of the hostess. +But the countess had recalled Vandeuvres and was questioning him as to the +manner in which the English made tea. He often betook himself to England, where +his horses ran. Then as though he had been inwardly following up quite a +laborious train of thought during his remarks, he broke in with the question: +</p> + +<p> +“And the marquis, by the by? Are we not to see him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, certainly you will! My father made me a formal promise that he would +come,” replied the countess. “But I’m beginning to be +anxious. His duties will have kept him.” +</p> + +<p> +Vandeuvres smiled a discreet smile. He, too, seemed to have his doubts as to +the exact nature of the Marquis de Chouard’s duties. Indeed, he had been +thinking of a pretty woman whom the marquis occasionally took into the country +with him. Perhaps they could get her too. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime Fauchery decided that the moment had come in which to risk +giving Count Muff his invitation. The evening, in fact, was drawing to a close. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you serious?” asked Vandeuvres, who thought a joke was +intended. +</p> + +<p> +“Extremely serious. If I don’t execute my commission she’ll +tear my eyes out. It’s a case of landing her fish, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well then, I’ll help you, dear boy.” +</p> + +<p> +Eleven o’clock struck. Assisted by her daughter, the countess was pouring +out the tea, and as hardly any guests save intimate friends had come, the cups +and the platefuls of little cakes were being circulated without ceremony. Even +the ladies did not leave their armchairs in front of the fire and sat sipping +their tea and nibbling cakes which they held between their finger tips. From +music the talk had declined to purveyors. Boissier was the only person for +sweetmeats and Catherine for ices. Mme Chantereau, however, was all for +Latinville. Speech grew more and more indolent, and a sense of lassitude was +lulling the room to sleep. Steiner had once more set himself secretly to +undermine the deputy, whom he held in a state of blockade in the corner of a +settee. M. Venot, whose teeth must have been ruined by sweet things, was eating +little dry cakes, one after the other, with a small nibbling sound suggestive +of a mouse, while the chief clerk, his nose in a teacup, seemed never to be +going to finish its contents. As to the countess, she went in a leisurely way +from one guest to another, never pressing them, indeed, only pausing a second +or two before the gentlemen whom she viewed with an air of dumb interrogation +before she smiled and passed on. The great fire had flushed all her face, and +she looked as if she were the sister of her daughter, who appeared so withered +and ungainly at her side. When she drew near Fauchery, who was chatting with +her husband and Vandeuvres, she noticed that they grew suddenly silent; +accordingly she did not stop but handed the cup of tea she was offering to +Georges Hugon beyond them. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a lady who desires your company at supper,” the +journalist gaily continued, addressing Count Muffat. +</p> + +<p> +The last-named, whose face had worn its gray look all the evening, seemed very +much surprised. What lady was it? +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Nana!” said Vandeuvres, by way of forcing the invitation. +</p> + +<p> +The count became more grave than before. His eyelids trembled just perceptibly, +while a look of discomfort, such as headache produces, hovered for a moment +athwart his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“But I’m not acquainted with that lady,” he murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, you went to her house,” remarked Vandeuvres. +</p> + +<p> +“What d’you say? I went to her house? Oh yes, the other day, in +behalf of the Benevolent Organization. I had forgotten about it. But, no +matter, I am not acquainted with her, and I cannot accept.” +</p> + +<p> +He had adopted an icy expression in order to make them understand that this +jest did not appear to him to be in good taste. A man of his position did not +sit down at tables of such women as that. Vandeuvres protested: it was to be a +supper party of dramatic and artistic people, and talent excused everything. +But without listening further to the arguments urged by Fauchery, who spoke of +a dinner where the Prince of Scots, the son of a queen, had sat down beside an +ex-music-hall singer, the count only emphasized his refusal. In so doing, he +allowed himself, despite his great politeness, to be guilty of an irritated +gesture. +</p> + +<p> +Georges and La Faloise, standing in front of each other drinking their tea, had +overheard the two or three phrases exchanged in their immediate neighborhood. +</p> + +<p> +“Jove, it’s at Nana’s then,” murmured La Faloise. +“I might have expected as much!” +</p> + +<p> +Georges said nothing, but he was all aflame. His fair hair was in disorder; his +blue eyes shone like tapers, so fiercely had the vice, which for some days past +had surrounded him, inflamed and stirred his blood. At last he was going to +plunge into all that he had dreamed of! +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know the address,” La Faloise resumed. +</p> + +<p> +“She lives on a third floor in the Boulevard Haussmann, between the Rue +de l’Arcade and the Rue Pesquier,” said Georges all in a breath. +</p> + +<p> +And when the other looked at him in much astonishment, he added, turning very +red and fit to sink into the ground with embarrassment and conceit: +</p> + +<p> +“I’m of the party. She invited me this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +But there was a great stir in the drawing room, and Vandeuvres and Fauchery +could not continue pressing the count. The Marquis de Chouard had just come in, +and everyone was anxious to greet him. He had moved painfully forward, his legs +failing under him, and he now stood in the middle of the room with pallid face +and eyes blinking, as though he had just come out of some dark alley and were +blinded by the brightness of the lamps. +</p> + +<p> +“I scarcely hoped to see you tonight, Father,” said the countess. +“I should have been anxious till the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her without answering, as a man might who fails to understand. His +nose, which loomed immense on his shorn face, looked like a swollen pimple, +while his lower lip hung down. Seeing him such a wreck, Mme Hugon, full of kind +compassion, said pitying things to him. +</p> + +<p> +“You work too hard. You ought to rest yourself. At our age we ought to +leave work to the young people.” +</p> + +<p> +“Work! Ah yes, to be sure, work!” he stammered at last. +“Always plenty of work.” +</p> + +<p> +He began to pull himself together, straightening up his bent figure and passing +his hand, as was his wont, over his scant gray hair, of which a few locks +strayed behind his ears. +</p> + +<p> +“At what are you working as late as this?” asked Mme du Joncquoy. +“I thought you were at the financial minister’s reception?” +</p> + +<p> +But the countess intervened with: +</p> + +<p> +“My father had to study the question of a projected law.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a projected law,” he said; “exactly so, a projected +law. I shut myself up for that reason. It refers to work in factories, and I +was anxious for a proper observance of the Lord’s day of rest. It is +really shameful that the government is unwilling to act with vigor in the +matter. Churches are growing empty; we are running headlong to ruin.” +</p> + +<p> +Vandeuvres had exchanged glances with Fauchery. They both happened to be behind +the marquis, and they were scanning him suspiciously. When Vandeuvres found an +opportunity to take him aside and to speak to him about the good-looking +creature he was in the habit of taking down into the country, the old man +affected extreme surprise. Perhaps someone had seen him with the Baroness +Decker, at whose house at Viroflay he sometimes spent a day or so. +Vandeuvres’s sole vengeance was an abrupt question: +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, where have you been straying to? Your elbow is covered with +cobwebs and plaster.” +</p> + +<p> +“My elbow,” he muttered, slightly disturbed. “Yes indeed, +it’s true. A speck or two, I must have come in for them on my way down +from my office.” +</p> + +<p> +Several people were taking their departure. It was close on midnight. Two +footmen were noiselessly removing the empty cups and the plates with cakes. In +front of the hearth the ladies had re-formed and, at the same time, narrowed +their circle and were chatting more carelessly than before in the languid +atmosphere peculiar to the close of a party. The very room was going to sleep, +and slowly creeping shadows were cast by its walls. It was then Fauchery spoke +of departure. Yet he once more forgot his intention at sight of the Countess +Sabine. She was resting from her cares as hostess, and as she sat in her wonted +seat, silent, her eyes fixed on a log which was turning into embers, her face +appeared so white and so impassable that doubt again possessed him. In the glow +of the fire the small black hairs on the mole at the corner of her lip became +white. It was Nana’s very mole, down to the color of the hair. He could +not refrain from whispering something about it in Vandeuvres’s ear. Gad, +it was true; the other had never noticed it before. And both men continued this +comparison of Nana and the countess. They discovered a vague resemblance about +the chin and the mouth, but the eyes were not at all alike. Then, too, Nana had +a good-natured expression, while with the countess it was hard to +decide—she might have been a cat, sleeping with claws withdrawn and paws +stirred by a scarce-perceptible nervous quiver. +</p> + +<p> +“All the same, one could have her,” declared Fauchery. +</p> + +<p> +Vandeuvres stripped her at a glance. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, one could, all the same,” he said. “But I think nothing +of the thighs, you know. Will you bet she has no thighs?” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped, for Fauchery touched him briskly on the arm and showed him Estelle, +sitting close to them on her footstool. They had raised their voices without +noticing her, and she must have overheard them. Nevertheless, she continued +sitting there stiff and motionless, not a hair having lifted on her thin neck, +which was that of a girl who has shot up all too quickly. Thereupon they +retired three or four paces, and Vandeuvres vowed that the countess was a very +honest woman. Just then voices were raised in front of the hearth. Mme du +Joncquoy was saying: +</p> + +<p> +“I was willing to grant you that Monsieur de Bismarck was perhaps a witty +man. Only, if you go as far as to talk of genius—” +</p> + +<p> +The ladies had come round again to their earliest topic of conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“What the deuce! Still Monsieur de Bismarck!” muttered Fauchery. +“This time I make my escape for good and all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a bit,” said Vandeuvres, “we must have a definite no +from the count.” +</p> + +<p> +The Count Muffat was talking to his father-in-law and a certain serious-looking +gentleman. Vandeuvres drew him away and renewed the invitation, backing it up +with the information that he was to be at the supper himself. A man might go +anywhere; no one could think of suspecting evil where at most there could only +be curiosity. The count listened to these arguments with downcast eyes and +expressionless face. Vandeuvres felt him to be hesitating when the Marquis de +Chouard approached with a look of interrogation. And when the latter was +informed of the question in hand and Fauchery had invited him in his turn, he +looked at his son-in-law furtively. There ensued an embarrassed silence, but +both men encouraged one another and would doubtless have ended by accepting had +not Count Muffat perceived M. Venot’s gaze fixed upon him. The little old +man was no longer smiling; his face was cadaverous, his eyes bright and keen as +steel. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied the count directly, in so decisive a tone that +further insistence became impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Then the marquis refused with even greater severity of expression. He talked +morality. The aristocratic classes ought to set a good example. Fauchery smiled +and shook hands with Vandeuvres. He did not wait for him and took his departure +immediately, for he was due at his newspaper office. +</p> + +<p> +“At Nana’s at midnight, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +La Faloise retired too. Steiner had made his bow to the countess. Other men +followed them, and the same phrase went round—“At midnight, at +Nana’s”—as they went to get their overcoats in the anteroom. +Georges, who could not leave without his mother, had stationed himself at the +door, where he gave the exact address. “Third floor, door on your +left.” Yet before going out Fauchery gave a final glance. Vandeuvres had +again resumed his position among the ladies and was laughing with Leonide de +Chezelles. Count Muffat and the Marquis de Chouard were joining in the +conversation, while the good Mme Hugon was falling asleep open-eyed. Lost among +the petticoats, M. Venot was his own small self again and smiled as of old. +Twelve struck slowly in the great solemn room. +</p> + +<p> +“What—what do you mean?” Mme du Joncquoy resumed. “You +imagine that Monsieur de Bismarck will make war on us and beat us! Oh, +that’s unbearable!” +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, they were laughing round Mme Chantereau, who had just repeated an +assertion she had heard made in Alsace, where her husband owned a foundry. +</p> + +<p> +“We have the emperor, fortunately,” said Count Muffat in his grave, +official way. +</p> + +<p> +It was the last phrase Fauchery was able to catch. He closed the door after +casting one more glance in the direction of the Countess Sabine. She was +talking sedately with the chief clerk and seemed to be interested in that stout +individual’s conversation. Assuredly he must have been deceiving himself. +There was no “little rift” there at all. It was a pity. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not coming down then?” La Faloise shouted up to him +from the entrance hall. +</p> + +<p> +And out on the pavement, as they separated, they once more repeated: +</p> + +<p> +“Tomorrow, at Nana’s.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"></a> CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p> +Since morning Zoé had delivered up the flat to a managing man who had come from +Brebant’s with a staff of helpers and waiters. Brebant was to supply +everything, from the supper, the plates and dishes, the glass, the linen, the +flowers, down to the seats and footstools. Nana could not have mustered a dozen +napkins out of all her cupboards, and not having had time to get a proper +outfit after her new start in life and scorning to go to the restaurant, she +had decided to make the restaurant come to her. It struck her as being more the +thing. She wanted to celebrate her great success as an actress with a supper +which should set people talking. As her dining room was too small, the manager +had arranged the table in the drawing room, a table with twenty-five covers, +placed somewhat close together. +</p> + +<p> +“Is everything ready?” asked Nana when she returned at midnight. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I don’t know,” replied Zoé roughly, looking beside +herself with worry. “The Lord be thanked, I don’t bother about +anything. They’re making a fearful mess in the kitchen and all over the +flat! I’ve had to fight my battles too. The other two came again. My eye! +I did just chuck ’em out!” +</p> + +<p> +She referred, of course, to her employer’s old admirers, the tradesman +and the Walachian, to whom Nana, sure of her future and longing to shed her +skin, as she phrased it, had decided to give the go-by. +</p> + +<p> +“There are a couple of leeches for you!” she muttered. +</p> + +<p> +“If they come back threaten to go to the police.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she called Daguenet and Georges, who had remained behind in the anteroom, +where they were hanging up their overcoats. They had both met at the stage door +in the Passage des Panoramas, and she had brought them home with her in a cab. +As there was nobody there yet, she shouted to them to come into the dressing +room while Zoé was touching up her toilet. Hurriedly and without changing her +dress she had her hair done up and stuck white roses in her chignon and at her +bosom. The little room was littered with the drawing-room furniture, which the +workmen had been compelled to roll in there, and it was full of a motley +assemblage of round tables, sofas and armchairs, with their legs in air for the +most part. Nana was quite ready when her dress caught on a castor and tore +upward. At this she swore furiously; such things only happened to her! Ragingly +she took off her dress, a very simple affair of white foulard, of so thin and +supple a texture that it clung about her like a long shift. But she put it on +again directly, for she could not find another to her taste, and with tears in +her eyes declared that she was dressed like a ragpicker. Daguenet and Georges +had to patch up the rent with pins, while Zoé once more arranged her hair. All +three hurried round her, especially the boy, who knelt on the floor with his +hands among her skirts. And at last she calmed down again when Daguenet assured +her it could not be later than a quarter past twelve, seeing that by dint of +scamping her words and skipping her lines she had effectually shortened the +third act of the Blonde Venus. +</p> + +<p> +“The play’s still far too good for that crowd of idiots,” she +said. “Did you see? There were thousands there tonight. Zoé, my girl, you +will wait in here. Don’t go to bed, I shall want you. By gum, it is time +they came. Here’s company!” +</p> + +<p> +She ran off while Georges stayed where he was with the skirts of his coat +brushing the floor. He blushed, seeing Daguenet looking at him. Notwithstanding +which, they had conceived a tender regard the one for the other. They +rearranged the bows of their cravats in front of the big dressing glass and +gave each other a mutual dose of the clothesbrush, for they were all white from +their close contact with Nana. +</p> + +<p> +“One would think it was sugar,” murmured Georges, giggling like a +greedy little child. +</p> + +<p> +A footman hired for the evening was ushering the guests into the small drawing +room, a narrow slip of a place in which only four armchairs had been left in +order the better to pack in the company. From the large drawing room beyond +came a sound as of the moving of plates and silver, while a clear and brilliant +ray of light shone from under the door. At her entrance Nana found Clarisse +Besnus, whom La Faloise had brought, already installed in one of the armchairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, you’re the first of ’em!” said Nana, who, now +that she was successful, treated her familiarly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s his doing,” replied Clarisse. “He’s +always afraid of not getting anywhere in time. If I’d taken him at his +word I shouldn’t have waited to take off my paint and my wig.” +</p> + +<p> +The young man, who now saw Nana for the first time, bowed, paid her a +compliment and spoke of his cousin, hiding his agitation behind an exaggeration +of politeness. But Nana, neither listening to him nor recognizing his face, +shook hands with him and then went briskly toward Rose Mignon, with whom she at +once assumed a most distinguished manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, how nice of you, my dear madame! I was so anxious to have you +here!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s I who am charmed, I assure you,” said Rose with equal +amiability. +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, sit down. Do you require anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, no! Ah yes, I’ve left my fan in my pelisse, Steiner; +just look in the right-hand pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +Steiner and Mignon had come in behind Rose. The banker turned back and +reappeared with the fan while Mignon embraced Nana fraternally and forced Rose +to do so also. Did they not all belong to the same family in the theatrical +world? Then he winked as though to encourage Steiner, but the latter was +disconcerted by Rose’s clear gaze and contented himself by kissing +Nana’s hand. +</p> + +<p> +Just then the Count de Vandeuvres made his appearance with Blanche de Sivry. +There was an interchange of profound bows, and Nana with the utmost ceremony +conducted Blanche to an armchair. Meanwhile Vandeuvres told them laughingly +that Fauchery was engaged in a dispute at the foot of the stairs because the +porter had refused to allow Lucy Stewart’s carriage to come in at the +gate. They could hear Lucy telling the porter he was a dirty blackguard in the +anteroom. But when the footman had opened the door she came forward with her +laughing grace of manner, announced her name herself, took both Nana’s +hands in hers and told her that she had liked her from the very first and +considered her talent splendid. Nana, puffed up by her novel role of hostess, +thanked her and was veritably confused. Nevertheless, from the moment of +Fauchery’s arrival she appeared preoccupied, and directly she could get +near him she asked him in a low voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Will he come?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he did not want to,” was the journalist’s abrupt reply, +for he was taken by surprise, though he had got ready some sort of tale to +explain Count Muffat’s refusal. +</p> + +<p> +Seeing the young woman’s sudden pallor, he became conscious of his folly +and tried to retract his words. +</p> + +<p> +“He was unable to; he is taking the countess to the ball at the Ministry +of the Interior tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” murmured Nana, who suspected him of ill will, +“you’ll pay me out for that, my pippin.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned on her heel, and so did he; they were angry. Just then Mignon was +pushing Steiner up against Nana, and when Fauchery had left her he said to her +in a low voice and with the good-natured cynicism of a comrade in arms who +wishes his friends to be happy: +</p> + +<p> +“He’s dying of it, you know, only he’s afraid of my wife. +Won’t you protect him?” +</p> + +<p> +Nana did not appear to understand. She smiled and looked at Rose, the husband +and the banker and finally said to the latter: +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Steiner, you will sit next to me.” +</p> + +<p> +With that there came from the anteroom a sound of laughter and whispering and a +burst of merry, chattering voices, which sounded as if a runaway convent were +on the premises. And Labordette appeared, towing five women in his rear, his +boarding school, as Lucy Stewart cruelly phrased it. There was Gaga, majestic +in a blue velvet dress which was too tight for her, and Caroline Hequet, clad +as usual in ribbed black silk, trimmed with Chantilly lace. Léa de Horn came +next, terribly dressed up, as her wont was, and after her the big Tatan Nene, a +good-humored fair girl with the bosom of a wet nurse, at which people laughed, +and finally little Maria Blond, a young damsel of fifteen, as thin and vicious +as a street child, yet on the high road to success, owing to her recent first +appearance at the Folies. Labordette had brought the whole collection in a +single fly, and they were still laughing at the way they had been squeezed with +Maria Blond on her knees. But on entering the room they pursed up their lips, +and all grew very conventional as they shook hands and exchanged salutations. +Gaga even affected the infantile and lisped through excess of genteel +deportment. Tatan Nene alone transgressed. They had been telling her as they +came along that six absolutely naked Negroes would serve up Nana’s +supper, and she now grew anxious about them and asked to see them. Labordette +called her a goose and besought her to be silent. +</p> + +<p> +“And Bordenave?” asked Fauchery. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you may imagine how miserable I am,” cried Nana; “he +won’t be able to join us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Rose Mignon, “his foot caught in a trap door, and +he’s got a fearful sprain. If only you could hear him swearing, with his +leg tied up and laid out on a chair!” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon everybody mourned over Bordenave’s absence. No one ever gave a +good supper without Bordenave. Ah well, they would try and do without him, and +they were already talking about other matters when a burly voice was heard: +</p> + +<p> +“What, eh, what? Is that the way they’re going to write my obituary +notice?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a shout, and all heads were turned round, for it was indeed +Bordenave. Huge and fiery-faced, he was standing with his stiff leg in the +doorway, leaning for support on Simonne Cabiroche’s shoulder. Simonne was +for the time being his mistress. This little creature had had a certain amount +of education and could play the piano and talk English. She was a blonde on a +tiny, pretty scale and so delicately formed that she seemed to bend under +Bordenave’s rude weight. Yet she was smilingly submissive withal. He +postured there for some moments, for he felt that together they formed a +tableau. +</p> + +<p> +“One can’t help liking ye, eh?” he continued. “Zounds, +I was afraid I should get bored, and I said to myself, ‘Here +goes.’” +</p> + +<p> +But he interrupted himself with an oath. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, damn!” +</p> + +<p> +Simonne had taken a step too quickly forward, and his foot had just felt his +full weight. He gave her a rough push, but she, still smiling away and ducking +her pretty head as some animal might that is afraid of a beating, held him up +with all the strength a little plump blonde can command. Amid all these +exclamations there was a rush to his assistance. Nana and Rose Mignon rolled up +an armchair, into which Bordenave let himself sink, while the other women slid +a second one under his leg. And with that all the actresses present kissed him +as a matter of course. He kept grumbling and gasping. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, damn! Oh, damn! Ah well, the stomach’s unhurt, you’ll +see.” +</p> + +<p> +Other guests had arrived by this time, and motion became impossible in the +room. The noise of clinking plates and silver had ceased, and now a dispute was +heard going on in the big drawing room, where the voice of the manager grumbled +angrily. Nana was growing impatient, for she expected no more invited guests +and wondered why they did not bring in supper. She had just sent Georges to +find out what was going on when, to her great surprise, she noticed the arrival +of more guests, both male and female. She did not know them in the least. +Whereupon with some embarrassment she questioned Bordenave, Mignon and +Labordette about them. They did not know them any more than she did, but when +she turned to the Count de Vandeuvres he seemed suddenly to recollect himself. +They were the young men he had pressed into her service at Count +Muffat’s. Nana thanked him. That was capital, capital! Only they would +all be terribly crowded, and she begged Labordette to go and have seven more +covers set. Scarcely had he left the room than the footman ushered in three +newcomers. Nay, this time the thing was becoming ridiculous; one certainly +could never take them all in. Nana was beginning to grow angry and in her +haughtiest manner announced that such conduct was scarcely in good taste. But +seeing two more arrive, she began laughing; it was really too funny. So much +the worse. People would have to fit in anyhow! The company were all on their +feet save Gaga and Rose and Bordenave, who alone took up two armchairs. There +was a buzz of voices, people talking in low tones and stifling slight yawns the +while. +</p> + +<p> +“Now what d’you say, my lass,” asked Bordenave, “to our +sitting down at table as if nothing had happened? We are all here, don’t +you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, we’re all here, I promise you!” she answered +laughingly. +</p> + +<p> +She looked round her but grew suddenly serious, as though she were surprised at +not finding someone. Doubtless there was a guest missing whom she did not +mention. It was a case of waiting. But a minute or two later the company +noticed in their midst a tall gentleman with a fine face and a beautiful white +beard. The most astonishing thing about it was that nobody had seen him come +in; indeed, he must have slipped into the little drawing room through the +bedroom door, which had remained ajar. Silence reigned, broken only by a sound +of whispering. The Count de Vandeuvres certainly knew who the gentleman was, +for they both exchanged a discreet handgrip, but to the questions which the +women asked him he replied by a smile only. Thereupon Caroline Hequet wagered +in a low voice that it was an English lord who was on the eve of returning to +London to be married. She knew him quite well—she had had him. And this +account of the matter went the round of the ladies present, Maria Blond alone +asserting that, for her part, she recognized a German ambassador. She could +prove it, because he often passed the night with one of her friends. Among the +men his measure was taken in a few rapid phrases. A real swell, to judge by his +looks! Perhaps he would pay for the supper! Most likely. It looked like it. +Bah! Provided only the supper was a good one! In the end the company remained +undecided. Nay, they were already beginning to forget the old white-bearded +gentleman when the manager opened the door of the large drawing room. +</p> + +<p> +“Supper is on the table, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana had already accepted Steiner’s proffered arm without noticing a +movement on the part of the old gentleman, who started to walk behind her in +solitary state. Thus the march past could not be organized, and men and women +entered anyhow, joking with homely good humor over this absence of ceremony. A +long table stretched from one end to the other of the great room, which had +been entirely cleared of furniture, and this same table was not long enough, +for the plates thereon were touching one another. Four candelabra, with ten +candles apiece, lit up the supper, and of these one was gorgeous in silver +plate with sheaves of flowers to right and left of it. Everything was luxurious +after the restaurant fashion; the china was ornamented with a gold line and +lacked the customary monogram; the silver had become worn and tarnished through +dint of continual washings; the glass was of the kind that you can complete an +odd set of in any cheap emporium. +</p> + +<p> +The scene suggested a premature housewarming in an establishment newly smiled +on by fortune and as yet lacking the necessary conveniences. There was no +central luster, and the candelabra, whose tall tapers had scarcely burned up +properly, cast a pale yellow light among the dishes and stands on which fruit, +cakes and preserves alternated symmetrically. +</p> + +<p> +“You sit where you like, you know,” said Nana. “It’s +more amusing that way.” +</p> + +<p> +She remained standing midway down the side of the table. The old gentleman whom +nobody knew had placed himself on her right, while she kept Steiner on her left +hand. Some guests were already sitting down when the sound of oaths came from +the little drawing room. It was Bordenave. The company had forgotten him, and +he was having all the trouble in the world to raise himself out of his two +armchairs, for he was howling amain and calling for that cat of a Simonne, who +had slipped off with the rest. The women ran in to him, full of pity for his +woes, and Bordenave appeared, supported, nay, almost carried, by Caroline, +Clarisse, Tatan Nene and Maria Blond. And there was much to-do over his +installation at the table. +</p> + +<p> +“In the middle, facing Nana!” was the cry. “Bordenave in the +middle! He’ll be our president!” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon the ladies seated him in the middle. But he needed a second chair for +his leg, and two girls lifted it up and stretched it carefully out. It +wouldn’t matter; he would eat sideways. +</p> + +<p> +“God blast it all!” he grumbled. “We’re squashed all +the same! Ah, my kittens, Papa recommends himself to your tender care!” +</p> + +<p> +He had Rose Mignon on his right and Lucy Stewart on his left hand, and they +promised to take good care of him. Everybody was now getting settled. Count de +Vandeuvres placed himself between Lucy and Clarisse; Fauchery between Rose +Mignon and Caroline Hequet. On the other side of the table Hector de la Faloise +had rushed to get next Gaga, and that despite the calls of Clarisse opposite, +while Mignon, who never deserted Steiner, was only separated from him by +Blanche and had Tatan Nene on his left. Then came Labordette and, finally, at +the two ends of the table were irregular crowding groups of young men and of +women, such as Simonne, Léa de Horn and Maria Blond. It was in this region that +Daguenet and Georges forgathered more warmly than ever while smilingly gazing +at Nana. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, two people remained standing, and there was much joking about it. +The men offered seats on their knees. Clarisse, who could not move her elbows, +told Vandeuvres that she counted on him to feed her. And then that Bordenave +did just take up space with his chairs! There was a final effort, and at last +everybody was seated, but, as Mignon loudly remarked, they were confoundedly +like herrings in a barrel. +</p> + +<p> +“Thick asparagus soup à la comtesse, clear soup à la Deslignac,” +murmured the waiters, carrying about platefuls in rear of the guests. +</p> + +<p> +Bordenave was loudly recommending the thick soup when a shout arose, followed +by protests and indignant exclamations. The door had just opened, and three +late arrivals, a woman and two men, had just come in. Oh dear, no! There was no +space for them! Nana, however, without leaving her chair, began screwing up her +eyes in the effort to find out whether she knew them. The woman was Louise +Violaine, but she had never seen the men before. +</p> + +<p> +“This gentleman, my dear,” said Vandeuvres, “is a friend of +mine, a naval officer, Monsieur de Foucarmont by name. I invited him.” +</p> + +<p> +Foucarmont bowed and seemed very much at ease, for he added: +</p> + +<p> +“And I took leave to bring one of my friends with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s quite right, quite right!” said Nana. “Sit +down, pray. Let’s see, you—Clarisse—push up a little. +You’re a good deal spread out down there. That’s it—where +there’s a will—” +</p> + +<p> +They crowded more tightly than ever, and Foucarmont and Louise were given a +little stretch of table, but the friend had to sit at some distance from his +plate and ate his supper through dint of making a long arm between his +neighbors’ shoulders. The waiters took away the soup plates and +circulated rissoles of young rabbit with truffles and “niokys” and +powdered cheese. Bordenave agitated the whole table with the announcement that +at one moment he had had the idea of bringing with him Prullière, Fontan and +old Bosc. At this Nana looked sedate and remarked dryly that she would have +given them a pretty reception. Had she wanted colleagues, she would certainly +have undertaken to ask them herself. No, no, she wouldn’t have third-rate +play actors. Old Bosc was always drunk; Prullière was fond of spitting too +much, and as to Fontan, he made himself unbearable in society with his loud +voice and his stupid doings. Then, you know, third-rate play actors were always +out of place when they found themselves in the society of gentlemen such as +those around her. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, it’s true,” Mignon declared. +</p> + +<p> +All round the table the gentlemen in question looked unimpeachable in the +extreme, what with their evening dress and their pale features, the natural +distinction of which was still further refined by fatigue. The old gentleman +was as deliberate in his movements and wore as subtle a smile as though he were +presiding over a diplomatic congress, and Vandeuvres, with his exquisite +politeness toward the ladies next to him, seemed to be at one of the Countess +Muffat’s receptions. That very morning Nana had been remarking to her +aunt that in the matter of men one could not have done better—they were +all either wellborn or wealthy, in fact, quite the thing. And as to the ladies, +they were behaving admirably. Some of them, such as Blanche, Léa and Louise, +had come in low dresses, but Gaga’s only was perhaps a little too low, +the more so because at her age she would have done well not to show her neck at +all. Now that the company were finally settled the laughter and the light jests +began to fail. Georges was under the impression that he had assisted at merrier +dinner parties among the good folks of Orleans. There was scarcely any +conversation. The men, not being mutually acquainted, stared at one another, +while the women sat quite quiet, and it was this which especially surprised +Georges. He thought them all smugs—he had been under the impression that +everybody would begin kissing at once. +</p> + +<p> +The third course, consisting of a Rhine carp à la Chambord and a saddle of +venison à l’anglaise, was being served when Blanche remarked aloud: +</p> + +<p> +“Lucy, my dear, I met your Ollivier on Sunday. How he’s +grown!” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, yes! He’s eighteen,” replied Lucy. “It +doesn’t make me feel any younger. He went back to his school +yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +Her son Ollivier, whom she was wont to speak of with pride, was a pupil at the +École de Marine. Then ensued a conversation about the young people, during +which all the ladies waxed very tender. Nana described her own great happiness. +Her baby, the little Louis, she said, was now at the house of her aunt, who +brought him round to her every morning at eleven o’clock, when she would +take him into her bed, where he played with her griffon dog Lulu. It was enough +to make one die of laughing to see them both burying themselves under the +clothes at the bottom of the bed. The company had no idea how cunning Louiset +had already become. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yesterday I did just pass a day!” said Rose Mignon in her +turn. “Just imagine, I went to fetch Charles and Henry at their boarding +school, and I had positively to take them to the theater at night. They jumped; +they clapped their little hands: ‘We shall see Mamma act! We shall see +Mamma act!’ Oh, it was a to-do!” +</p> + +<p> +Mignon smiled complaisantly, his eyes moist with paternal tenderness. +</p> + +<p> +“And at the play itself,” he continued, “they were so funny! +They behaved as seriously as grown men, devoured Rose with their eyes and asked +me why Mamma had her legs bare like that.” +</p> + +<p> +The whole table began laughing, and Mignon looked radiant, for his pride as a +father was flattered. He adored his children and had but one object in life, +which was to increase their fortunes by administering the money gained by Rose +at the theater and elsewhere with the businesslike severity of a faithful +steward. When as first fiddle in the music hall where she used to sing he had +married her, they had been passionately fond of one another. Now they were good +friends. There was an understanding between them: she labored hard to the full +extent of her talent and of her beauty; he had given up his violin in order the +better to watch over her successes as an actress and as a woman. One could not +have found a more homely and united household anywhere! +</p> + +<p> +“What age is your eldest?” asked Vandeuvres. +</p> + +<p> +“Henry’s nine,” replied Mignon, “but such a big chap +for his years!” +</p> + +<p> +Then he chaffed Steiner, who was not fond of children, and with quiet audacity +informed him that were he a father, he would make a less stupid hash of his +fortune. While talking he watched the banker over Blanche’s shoulders to +see if it was coming off with Nana. But for some minutes Rose and Fauchery, who +were talking very near him, had been getting on his nerves. Was Rose going to +waste time over such a folly as that? In that sort of case, by Jove, he blocked +the way. And diamond on finger and with his fine hands in great evidence, he +finished discussing a fillet of venison. +</p> + +<p> +Elsewhere the conversation about children continued. La Faloise, rendered very +restless by the immediate proximity of Gaga, asked news of her daughter, whom +he had had the pleasure of noticing in her company at the Variétés. Lili was +quite well, but she was still such a tomboy! He was astonished to learn that +Lili was entering on her nineteenth year. Gaga became even more imposing in his +eyes, and when he endeavored to find out why she had not brought Lili with her: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, no, never!” she said stiffly. “Not three months ago +she positively insisted on leaving her boarding school. I was thinking of +marrying her off at once, but she loves me so that I had to take her +home—oh, so much against my will!” +</p> + +<p> +Her blue eyelids with their blackened lashes blinked and wavered while she +spoke of the business of settling her young lady. If at her time of life she +hadn’t laid by a sou but was still always working to minister to +men’s pleasures, especially those very young men, whose grandmother she +might well be, it was truly because she considered a good match of far greater +importance than mere savings. And with that she leaned over La Faloise, who +reddened under the huge, naked, plastered shoulder with which she well-nigh +crushed him. +</p> + +<p> +“You know,” she murmured, “if she fails it won’t be my +fault. But they’re so strange when they’re young!” +</p> + +<p> +There was a considerable bustle round the table, and the waiters became very +active. After the third course the entrees had made their appearance; they +consisted of pullets à la marechale, fillets of sole with shallot sauce and +escalopes of Strasbourg paté. The manager, who till then had been having +Meursault served, now offered Chambertin and Leoville. Amid the slight hubbub +which the change of plates involved Georges, who was growing momentarily more +astonished, asked Daguenet if all the ladies present were similarly provided +with children, and the other, who was amused by this question, gave him some +further details. Lucy Stewart was the daughter of a man of English origin who +greased the wheels of the trains at the Gare du Nord; she was thirty-nine years +old and had the face of a horse but was adorable withal and, though +consumptive, never died. In fact, she was the smartest woman there and +represented three princes and a duke. Caroline Hequet, born at Bordeaux, +daughter of a little clerk long since dead of shame, was lucky enough to be +possessed of a mother with a head on her shoulders, who, after having cursed +her, had made it up again at the end of a year of reflection, being minded, at +any rate, to save a fortune for her daughter. The latter was twenty-five years +old and very passionless and was held to be one of the finest women it is +possible to enjoy. Her price never varied. The mother, a model of orderliness, +kept the accounts and noted down receipts and expenditures with severe +precision. She managed the whole household from some small lodging two stories +above her daughter’s, where, moreover, she had established a workroom for +dressmaking and plain sewing. As to Blanche de Sivry, whose real name was +Jacqueline Bandu, she hailed from a village near Amiens. Magnificent in person, +stupid and untruthful in character, she gave herself out as the granddaughter +of a general and never owned to her thirty-two summers. The Russians had a +great taste for her, owing to her embonpoint. Then Daguenet added a rapid word +or two about the rest. There was Clarisse Besnus, whom a lady had brought up +from Saint-Aubin-sur-Mer in the capacity of maid while the lady’s husband +had started her in quite another line. There was Simonne Cabiroche, the +daughter of a furniture dealer in the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, who had been +educated in a large boarding school with a view to becoming a governess. +Finally there were Maria Blond and Louise Violaine and Léa de Horn, who had all +shot up to woman’s estate on the pavements of Paris, not to mention Tatan +Nene, who had herded cows in Champagne till she was twenty. +</p> + +<p> +Georges listened and looked at these ladies, feeling dizzy and excited by the +coarse recital thus crudely whispered in his ear, while behind his chair the +waiters kept repeating in respectful tones: +</p> + +<p> +“Pullets à la marechale; fillets of sole with ravigote sauce.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear fellow,” said Daguenet, giving him the benefit of his +experience, “don’t take any fish; it’ll do you no good at +this time of night. And be content with Leoville: it’s less +treacherous.” +</p> + +<p> +A heavy warmth floated upward from the candelabras, from the dishes which were +being handed round, from the whole table where thirty-eight human beings were +suffocating. And the waiters forgot themselves and ran when crossing the +carpet, so that it was spotted with grease. Nevertheless, the supper grew +scarce any merrier. The ladies trifled with their meat, left half of it +uneaten. Tatan Nene alone partook gluttonously of every dish. At that advanced +hour of the night hunger was of the nervous order only, a mere whimsical +craving born of an exasperated stomach. +</p> + +<p> +At Nana’s side the old gentleman refused every dish offered him; he had +only taken a spoonful of soup, and he now sat in front of his empty plate, +gazing silently about. There was some subdued yawning, and occasionally eyelids +closed and faces became haggard and white. It was unutterably slow, as it +always was, according to Vandeuvres’s dictum. This sort of supper should +be served anyhow if it was to be funny, he opined. Otherwise when elegantly and +conventionally done you might as well feed in good society, where you were not +more bored than here. Had it not been for Bordenave, who was still bawling +away, everybody would have fallen asleep. That rum old buffer Bordenave, with +his leg duly stretched on its chair, was letting his neighbors, Lucy and Rose, +wait on him as though he were a sultan. They were entirely taken up with him, +and they helped him and pampered him and watched over his glass and his plate, +and yet that did not prevent his complaining. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s going to cut up my meat for me? I can’t; the +table’s a league away.” +</p> + +<p> +Every few seconds Simonne rose and took up a position behind his back in order +to cut his meat and his bread. All the women took a great interest in the +things he ate. The waiters were recalled, and he was stuffed to suffocation. +Simonne having wiped his mouth for him while Rose and Lucy were changing his +plate, her act struck him as very pretty and, deigning at length to show +contentment: +</p> + +<p> +“There, there, my daughter,” he said, “that’s as it +should be. Women are made for that!” +</p> + +<p> +There was a slight reawakening, and conversation became general as they +finished discussing some orange sherbet. The hot roast was a fillet with +truffles, and the cold roast a galantine of guinea fowl in jelly. Nana, annoyed +by the want of go displayed by her guests, had begun talking with the greatest +distinctness. +</p> + +<p> +“You know the Prince of Scots has already had a stage box reserved so as +to see the Blonde Venus when he comes to visit the exhibition.” +</p> + +<p> +“I very much hope that all the princes will come and see it,” +declared Bordenave with his mouth full. +</p> + +<p> +“They are expecting the shah of Persia next Sunday,” said Lucy +Stewart. Whereupon Rose Mignon spoke of the shah’s diamonds. He wore a +tunic entirely covered with gems; it was a marvel, a flaming star; it +represented millions. And the ladies, with pale faces and eyes glittering with +covetousness, craned forward and ran over the names of the other kings, the +other emperors, who were shortly expected. All of them were dreaming of some +royal caprice, some night to be paid for by a fortune. +</p> + +<p> +“Now tell me, dear boy,” Caroline Hequet asked Vandeuvres, leaning +forward as she did so, “how old’s the emperor of Russia?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he’s ‘present time,’” replied the count, +laughing. “Nothing to be done in that quarter, I warn you.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana made pretense of being hurt. The witticism appeared somewhat too stinging, +and there was a murmur of protest. But Blanche gave a description of the king +of Italy, whom she had once seen at Milan. He was scarcely good looking, and +yet that did not prevent him enjoying all the women. She was put out somewhat +when Fauchery assured her that Victor Emmanuel could not come to the +exhibition. Louise Violaine and Léa favored the emperor of Austria, and all of +a sudden little Maria Blond was heard saying: +</p> + +<p> +“What an old stick the king of Prussia is! I was at Baden last year, and +one was always meeting him about with Count Bismarck.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, Bismarck!” Simonne interrupted. “I knew him once, I +did. A charming man.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I was saying yesterday,” cried Vandeuvres, +“but nobody would believe me.” +</p> + +<p> +And just as at Countess Sabine’s, there ensued a long discussion about +Bismarck. Vandeuvres repeated the same phrases, and for a moment or two one was +again in the Muffats’ drawing room, the only difference being that the +ladies were changed. Then, just as last night, they passed on to a discussion +on music, after which, Foucarmont having let slip some mention of the +assumption of the veil of which Paris was still talking, Nana grew quite +interested and insisted on details about Mlle de Fougeray. Oh, the poor child, +fancy her burying herself alive like that! Ah well, when it was a question of +vocation! All round the table the women expressed themselves much touched, and +Georges, wearied at hearing these things a second time discussed, was beginning +to ask Daguenet about Nana’s ways in private life, when the conversation +veered fatefully back to Count Bismarck. Tatan Nene bent toward Labordette to +ask him privily who this Bismarck might be, for she did not know him. Whereupon +Labordette, in cold blood, told her some portentous anecdotes. This Bismarck, +he said, was in the habit of eating raw meat and when he met a woman near his +den would carry her off thither on his back; at forty years of age he had +already had as many as thirty-two children that way. +</p> + +<p> +“Thirty-two children at forty!” cried Tatan Nene, stupefied and yet +convinced. “He must be jolly well worn out for his age.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a burst of merriment, and it dawned on her that she was being made +game of. +</p> + +<p> +“You sillies! How am I to know if you’re joking?” +</p> + +<p> +Gaga, meanwhile, had stopped at the exhibition. Like all these ladies, she was +delightedly preparing for the fray. A good season, provincials and foreigners +rushing into Paris! In the long run, perhaps, after the close of the exhibition +she would, if her business had flourished, be able to retire to a little house +at Jouvisy, which she had long had her eye on. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s to be done?” she said to La Faloise. “One never +gets what one wants! Oh, if only one were still really loved!” +</p> + +<p> +Gaga behaved meltingly because she had felt the young man’s knee gently +placed against her own. He was blushing hotly and lisping as elegantly as ever. +She weighed him at a glance. Not a very heavy little gentleman, to be sure, but +then she wasn’t hard to please. La Faloise obtained her address. +</p> + +<p> +“Just look there,” murmured Vandeuvres to Clarisse. “I think +Gaga’s doing you out of your Hector.” +</p> + +<p> +“A good riddance, so far as I’m concerned,” replied the +actress. “That fellow’s an idiot. I’ve already chucked him +downstairs three times. You know, I’m disgusted when dirty little boys +run after old women.” +</p> + +<p> +She broke off and with a little gesture indicated Blanche, who from the +commencement of dinner had remained in a most uncomfortable attitude, sitting +up very markedly, with the intention of displaying her shoulders to the old +distinguished-looking gentleman three seats beyond her. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re being left too,” she resumed. +</p> + +<p> +Vandeuvres smiled his thin smile and made a little movement to signify he did +not care. Assuredly ’twas not he who would ever have prevented poor, dear +Blanche scoring a success. He was more interested by the spectacle which +Steiner was presenting to the table at large. The banker was noted for his +sudden flames. That terrible German Jew who brewed money, whose hands forged +millions, was wont to turn imbecile whenever he became enamored of a woman. He +wanted them all too! Not one could make her appearance on the stage but he +bought her, however expensive she might be. Vast sums were quoted. Twice had +his furious appetite for courtesans ruined him. The courtesans, as Vandeuvres +used to say, avenged public morality by emptying his moneybags. A big operation +in the saltworks of the Landes had rendered him powerful on ’change, and +so for six weeks past the Mignons had been getting a pretty slice out of those +same saltworks. But people were beginning to lay wagers that the Mignons would +not finish their slice, for Nana was showing her white teeth. Once again +Steiner was in the toils, and so deeply this time that as he sat by +Nana’s side he seemed stunned; he ate without appetite; his lip hung +down; his face was mottled. She had only to name a figure. Nevertheless, she +did not hurry but continued playing with him, breathing her merry laughter into +his hairy ear and enjoying the little convulsive movements which kept +traversing his heavy face. There would always be time enough to patch all that +up if that ninny of a Count Muffat were really to treat her as Joseph did +Potiphar’s wife. +</p> + +<p> +“Leoville or Chambertin?” murmured a waiter, who came craning +forward between Nana and Steiner just as the latter was addressing her in a low +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, what?” he stammered, losing his head. “Whatever you +like—I don’t care.” +</p> + +<p> +Vandeuvres gently nudged Lucy Stewart, who had a very spiteful tongue and a +very fierce invention when once she was set going. That evening Mignon was +driving her to exasperation. +</p> + +<p> +“He would gladly be bottleholder, you know,” she remarked to the +count. “He’s in hopes of repeating what he did with little +Jonquier. You remember: Jonquier was Rose’s man, but he was sweet on big +Laure. Now Mignon procured Laure for Jonquier and then came back arm in arm +with him to Rose, as if he were a husband who had been allowed a little +peccadillo. But this time the thing’s going to fail. Nana doesn’t +give up the men who are lent her.” +</p> + +<p> +“What ails Mignon that he should be looking at his wife in that severe +way?” asked Vandeuvres. +</p> + +<p> +He leaned forward and saw Rose growing exceedingly amorous toward Fauchery. +This was the explanation of his neighbor’s wrath. He resumed laughingly: +</p> + +<p> +“The devil, are you jealous?” +</p> + +<p> +“Jealous!” said Lucy in a fury. “Good gracious, if Rose is +wanting Léon I give him up willingly—for what he’s worth! +That’s to say, for a bouquet a week and the rest to match! Look here, my +dear boy, these theatrical trollops are all made the same way. Why, Rose cried +with rage when she read Léon’s article on Nana; I know she did. So now, +you understand, she must have an article, too, and she’s gaining it. As +for me, I’m going to chuck Léon downstairs—you’ll see!” +</p> + +<p> +She paused to say “Leoville” to the waiter standing behind her with +his two bottles and then resumed in lowered tones: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to shout; it isn’t my style. But she’s a +cocky slut all the same. If I were in her husband’s place I should lead +her a lovely dance. Oh, she won’t be very happy over it. She +doesn’t know my Fauchery: a dirty gent he is, too, palling up with women +like that so as to get on in the world. Oh, a nice lot they are!” +</p> + +<p> +Vandeuvres did his best to calm her down, but Bordenave, deserted by Rose and +by Lucy, grew angry and cried out that they were letting Papa perish of hunger +and thirst. This produced a fortunate diversion. Yet the supper was flagging; +no one was eating now, though platefuls of cepes a’ l’italienne and +pineapple fritters à la Pompadour were being mangled. The champagne, however, +which had been drunk ever since the soup course, was beginning little by little +to warm the guests into a state of nervous exaltation. They ended by paying +less attention to decorum than before. The women began leaning on their elbows +amid the disordered table arrangements, while the men, in order to breathe more +easily, pushed their chairs back, and soon the black coats appeared buried +between the light-colored bodices, and bare shoulders, half turned toward the +table, began to gleam as soft as silk. It was too hot, and the glare of the +candles above the table grew ever yellower and duller. Now and again, when a +women bent forward, the back of her neck glowed golden under a rain of curls, +and the glitter of a diamond clasp lit up a lofty chignon. There was a touch of +fire in the passing jests, in the laughing eyes, in the sudden gleam of white +teeth, in the reflection of the candelabra on the surface of a glass of +champagne. The company joked at the tops of their voices, gesticulated, asked +questions which no one answered and called to one another across the whole +length of the room. But the loudest din was made by the waiters; they fancied +themselves at home in the corridors of their parent restaurant; they jostled +one another and served the ices and the dessert to an accompaniment of guttural +exclamations. +</p> + +<p> +“My children,” shouted Bordenave, “you know we’re +playing tomorrow. Be careful! Not too much champagne!” +</p> + +<p> +“As far as I’m concerned,” said Foucarmont, “I’ve +drunk every imaginable kind of wine in all the four quarters of the globe. +Extraordinary liquors some of ’em, containing alcohol enough to kill a +corpse! Well, and what d’you think? Why, it never hurt me a bit. I +can’t make myself drunk. I’ve tried and I can’t.” +</p> + +<p> +He was very pale, very calm and collected, and he lolled back in his chair, +drinking without cessation. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind that,” murmured Louise Violaine. “Leave off; +you’ve had enough. It would be a funny business if I had to look after +you the rest of the night.” +</p> + +<p> +Such was her state of exaltation that Lucy Stewart’s cheeks were assuming +a red, consumptive flush, while Rose Mignon with moist eyelids was growing +excessively melting. Tatan Nene, greatly astonished at the thought that she had +overeaten herself, was laughing vaguely over her own stupidity. The others, +such as Blanche, Caroline, Simonne and Maria, were all talking at once and +telling each other about their private affairs—about a dispute with a +coachman, a projected picnic and innumerable complex stories of lovers stolen +or restored. Meanwhile a young man near Georges, having evinced a desire to +kiss Léa de Horn, received a sharp rap, accompanied by a “Look here, you, +let me go!” which was spoken in a tone of fine indignation; and Georges, +who was now very tipsy and greatly excited by the sight of Nana, hesitated +about carrying out a project which he had been gravely maturing. He had been +planning, indeed, to get under the table on all fours and to go and crouch at +Nana’s feet like a little dog. Nobody would have seen him, and he would +have stayed there in the quietest way. But when at Léa’s urgent request +Daguenet had told the young man to sit still, Georges all at once felt +grievously chagrined, as though the reproof had just been leveled at him. Oh, +it was all silly and slow, and there was nothing worth living for! Daguenet, +nevertheless, began chaffing and obliged him to swallow a big glassful of +water, asking him at the same time what he would do if he were to find himself +alone with a woman, seeing that three glasses of champagne were able to bowl +him over. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, in Havana,” resumed Foucarmont, “they make a spirit +with a certain wild berry; you think you’re swallowing fire! Well now, +one evening I drank more than a liter of it, and it didn’t hurt me one +bit. Better than that, another time when we were on the coast of Coromandel +some savages gave us I don’t know what sort of a mixture of pepper and +vitriol, and that didn’t hurt me one bit. I can’t make myself +drunk.” +</p> + +<p> +For some moments past La Faloise’s face opposite had excited his +displeasure. He began sneering and giving vent to disagreeable witticisms. La +Faloise, whose brain was in a whirl, was behaving very restlessly and squeezing +up against Gaga. But at length he became the victim of anxiety; somebody had +just taken his handkerchief, and with drunken obstinacy he demanded it back +again, asked his neighbors about it, stooped down in order to look under the +chairs and the guests’ feet. And when Gaga did her best to quiet him: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a nuisance,” he murmured, “my initials and my +coronet are worked in the corner. They may compromise me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Monsieur Falamoise, Lamafoise, Mafaloise!” shouted +Foucarmont, who thought it exceedingly witty thus to disfigure the young +man’s name ad infinitum. +</p> + +<p> +But La Faloise grew wroth and talked with a stutter about his ancestry. He +threatened to send a water bottle at Foucarmont’s head, and Count de +Vandeuvres had to interfere in order to assure him that Foucarmont was a great +joker. Indeed, everybody was laughing. This did for the already flurried young +man, who was very glad to resume his seat and to begin eating with childlike +submissiveness when in a loud voice his cousin ordered him to feed. Gaga had +taken him back to her ample side; only from time to time he cast sly and +anxious glances at the guests, for he ceased not to search for his +handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +Then Foucarmont, being now in his witty vein, attacked Labordette right at the +other end of the table. Louise Violaine strove to make him hold his tongue, +for, she said, “when he goes nagging at other people like that it always +ends in mischief for me.” He had discovered a witticism which consisted +in addressing Labordette as “Madame,” and it must have amused him +greatly, for he kept on repeating it while Labordette tranquilly shrugged his +shoulders and as constantly replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Pray hold your tongue, my dear fellow; it’s stupid.” +</p> + +<p> +But as Foucarmont failed to desist and even became insulting without his +neighbors knowing why, he left off answering him and appealed to Count +Vandeuvres. +</p> + +<p> +“Make your friend hold his tongue, monsieur. I don’t wish to become +angry.” +</p> + +<p> +Foucarmont had twice fought duels, and he was in consequence most politely +treated and admitted into every circle. But there was now a general uprising +against him. The table grew merry at his sallies, for they thought him very +witty, but that was no reason why the evening should be spoiled. Vandeuvres, +whose subtle countenance was darkening visibly, insisted on his restoring +Labordette his sex. The other men—Mignon, Steiner and Bordenave—who +were by this time much exalted, also intervened with shouts which drowned his +voice. Only the old gentleman sitting forgotten next to Nana retained his +stately demeanor and, still smiling in his tired, silent way, watched with +lackluster eyes the untoward finish of the dessert. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you say to our taking coffee in here, duckie?” said +Bordenave. “We’re very comfortable.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana did not give an immediate reply. Since the beginning of supper she had +seemed no longer in her own house. All this company had overwhelmed and +bewildered her with their shouts to the waiters, the loudness of their voices +and the way in which they put themselves at their ease, just as though they +were in a restaurant. Forgetting her role of hostess, she busied herself +exclusively with bulky Steiner, who was verging on apoplexy beside her. She was +listening to his proposals and continually refusing them with shakes of the +head and that temptress’s laughter which is peculiar to a voluptuous +blonde. The champagne she had been drinking had flushed her a rosy-red; her +lips were moist; her eyes sparkled, and the banker’s offers rose with +every kittenish movement of her shoulders, with every little voluptuous lift +and fall of her throat, which occurred when she turned her head. Close by her +ear he kept espying a sweet little satiny corner which drove him crazy. +Occasionally Nana was interrupted, and then, remembering her guests, she would +try and be as pleased as possible in order to show that she knew how to +receive. Toward the end of the supper she was very tipsy. It made her miserable +to think of it, but champagne had a way of intoxicating her almost directly! +Then an exasperating notion struck her. In behaving thus improperly at her +table, these ladies were showing themselves anxious to do her an ugly turn. Oh +yes, she could see it all distinctly. Lucy had given Foucarmont a wink in order +to egg him on against Labordette, while Rose, Caroline and the others were +doing all they could to stir up the men. Now there was such a din you +couldn’t hear your neighbor speak, and so the story would get about that +you might allow yourself every kind of liberty when you supped at Nana’s. +Very well then! They should see! She might be tipsy, if you like, but she was +still the smartest and most ladylike woman there. +</p> + +<p> +“Do tell them to serve the coffee here, duckie,” resumed Bordenave. +“I prefer it here because of my leg.” +</p> + +<p> +But Nana had sprung savagely to her feet after whispering into the astonished +ears of Steiner and the old gentleman: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s quite right; it’ll teach me to go and invite a dirty +lot like that.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she pointed to the door of the dining room and added at the top of her +voice: +</p> + +<p> +“If you want coffee it’s there, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +The company left the table and crowded toward the dining room without noticing +Nana’s indignant outburst. And soon no one was left in the drawing room +save Bordenave, who advanced cautiously, supporting himself against the wall +and cursing away at the confounded women who chucked Papa the moment they were +chock-full. The waiters behind him were already busy removing the plates and +dishes in obedience to the loudly voiced orders of the manager. They rushed to +and fro, jostled one another, caused the whole table to vanish, as a pantomime +property might at the sound of the chief scene-shifter’s whistle. The +ladies and gentlemen were to return to the drawing room after drinking their +coffee. +</p> + +<p> +“By gum, it’s less hot here,” said Gaga with a slight shiver +as she entered the dining room. +</p> + +<p> +The window here had remained open. Two lamps illuminated the table, where +coffee and liqueurs were set out. There were no chairs, and the guests drank +their coffee standing, while the hubbub the waiters were making in the next +room grew louder and louder. Nana had disappeared, but nobody fretted about her +absence. They did without her excellently well, and everybody helped himself +and rummaged in the drawers of the sideboard in search of teaspoons, which were +lacking. Several groups were formed; people separated during supper rejoined +each other, and there was an interchange of glances, of meaning laughter and of +phrases which summed up recent situations. +</p> + +<p> +“Ought not Monsieur Fauchery to come and lunch with us one of these days, +Auguste?” said Rose Mignon. +</p> + +<p> +Mignon, who was toying with his watch chain, eyed the journalist for a second +or two with his severe glance. Rose was out of her senses. As became a good +manager, he would put a stop to such spendthrift courses. In return for a +notice, well and good, but afterward, decidedly not. Nevertheless, as he was +fully aware of his wife’s wrongheadedness and as he made it a rule to +wink paternally at a folly now and again, when such was necessary, he answered +amiably enough: +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, I shall be most happy. Pray come tomorrow, Monsieur +Fauchery.” +</p> + +<p> +Lucy Stewart heard this invitation given while she was talking with Steiner and +Blanche and, raising her voice, she remarked to the banker: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a mania they’ve all of them got. One of them even went +so far as to steal my dog. Now, dear boy, am I to blame if you chuck +her?” +</p> + +<p> +Rose turned round. She was very pale and gazed fixedly at Steiner as she sipped +her coffee. And then all the concentrated anger she felt at his abandonment of +her flamed out in her eyes. She saw more clearly than Mignon; it was stupid in +him to have wished to begin the Jonquier ruse a second time—those dodgers +never succeeded twice running. Well, so much the worse for him! She would have +Fauchery! She had been getting enamored of him since the beginning of supper, +and if Mignon was not pleased it would teach him greater wisdom! +</p> + +<p> +“You are not going to fight?” said Vandeuvres, coming over to Lucy +Stewart. +</p> + +<p> +“No, don’t be afraid of that! Only she must mind and keep quiet, or +I let the cat out of the bag!” +</p> + +<p> +Then signing imperiously to Fauchery: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got your slippers at home, my little man. I’ll get them +taken to your porter’s lodge for you tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +He wanted to joke about it, but she swept off, looking like a queen. Clarisse, +who had propped herself against a wall in order to drink a quiet glass of +kirsch, was seen to shrug her shoulders. A pleasant business for a man! +Wasn’t it true that the moment two women were together in the presence of +their lovers their first idea was to do one another out of them? It was a law +of nature! As to herself, why, in heaven’s name, if she had wanted to she +would have torn out Gaga’s eyes on Hector’s account! But la, she +despised him! Then as La Faloise passed by, she contented herself by remarking +to him: +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, my friend, you like ’em well advanced, you do! You +don’t want ’em ripe; you want ’em mildewed!” +</p> + +<p> +La Faloise seemed much annoyed and not a little anxious. Seeing Clarisse making +game of him, he grew suspicious of her. +</p> + +<p> +“No humbug, I say,” he muttered. “You’ve taken my +handkerchief. Well then, give it back!” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s dreeing us with that handkerchief of his!” she cried. +“Why, you ass, why should I have taken it from you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should you?” he said suspiciously. “Why, that you may +send it to my people and compromise me.” +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime Foucarmont was diligently attacking the liqueurs. He continued +to gaze sneeringly at Labordette, who was drinking his coffee in the midst of +the ladies. And occasionally he gave vent to fragmentary assertions, as thus: +“He’s the son of a horse dealer; some say the illegitimate child of +a countess. Never a penny of income, yet always got twenty-five louis in his +pocket! Footboy to the ladies of the town! A big lubber, who never goes with +any of ’em! Never, never, never!” he repeated, growing furious. +“No, by Jove! I must box his ears.” +</p> + +<p> +He drained a glass of chartreuse. The chartreuse had not the slightest effect +upon him; it didn’t affect him “even to that extent,” and he +clicked his thumbnail against the edge of his teeth. But suddenly, just as he +was advancing upon Labordette, he grew ashy white and fell down in a heap in +front of the sideboard. He was dead drunk. Louise Violaine was beside herself. +She had been quite right to prophesy that matters would end badly, and now she +would have her work cut out for the remainder of the night. Gaga reassured her. +She examined the officer with the eye of a woman of experience and declared +that there was nothing much the matter and that the gentleman would sleep like +that for at least a dozen or fifteen hours without any serious consequences. +Foucarmont was carried off. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, where’s Nana gone to?” asked Vandeuvres. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, she had certainly flown away somewhere on leaving the table. The company +suddenly recollected her, and everybody asked for her. Steiner, who for some +seconds had been uneasy on her account, asked Vandeuvres about the old +gentleman, for he, too, had disappeared. But the count reassured him—he +had just brought the old gentleman back. He was a stranger, whose name it was +useless to mention. Suffice it to say that he was a very rich man who was quite +pleased to pay for suppers! Then as Nana was once more being forgotten, +Vandeuvres saw Daguenet looking out of an open door and beckoning to him. And +in the bedroom he found the mistress of the house sitting up, white-lipped and +rigid, while Daguenet and Georges stood gazing at her with an alarmed +expression. +</p> + +<p> +“What IS the matter with you?” he asked in some surprise. +</p> + +<p> +She neither answered nor turned her head, and he repeated his question. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, this is what’s the matter with me,” she cried out at +length; “I won’t let them make bloody sport of me!” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon she gave vent to any expression that occurred to her. Yes, oh yes, +SHE wasn’t a ninny—she could see clearly enough. They had been +making devilish light of her during supper and saying all sorts of frightful +things to show that they thought nothing of her! A pack of sluts who +weren’t fit to black her boots! Catch her bothering herself again just to +be badgered for it after! She really didn’t know what kept her from +chucking all that dirty lot out of the house! And with this, rage choked her +and her voice broke down in sobs. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, my lass, you’re drunk,” said Vandeuvres, growing +familiar. “You must be reasonable.” +</p> + +<p> +No, she would give her refusal now; she would stay where she was. +</p> + +<p> +“I am drunk—it’s quite likely! But I want people to respect +me!” +</p> + +<p> +For a quarter of an hour past Daguenet and Georges had been vainly beseeching +her to return to the drawing room. She was obstinate, however; her guests might +do what they liked; she despised them too much to come back among them. +</p> + +<p> +No, she never would, never. They might tear her in pieces before she would +leave her room! +</p> + +<p> +“I ought to have had my suspicions,” she resumed. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s that cat of a Rose who’s got the plot up! I’m +certain Rose’ll have stopped that respectable woman coming whom I was +expecting tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +She referred to Mme Robert. Vandeuvres gave her his word of honor that Mme +Robert had given a spontaneous refusal. He listened and he argued with much +gravity, for he was well accustomed to similar scenes and knew how women in +such a state ought to be treated. But the moment he tried to take hold of her +hands in order to lift her up from her chair and draw her away with him she +struggled free of his clasp, and her wrath redoubled. Now, just look at that! +They would never get her to believe that Fauchery had not put the Count Muffat +off coming! A regular snake was that Fauchery, an envious sort, a fellow +capable of growing mad against a woman and of destroying her whole happiness. +For she knew this—the count had become madly devoted to her! She could +have had him! +</p> + +<p> +“Him, my dear, never!” cried Vandeuvres, forgetting himself and +laughing loud. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” she asked, looking serious and slightly sobered. +</p> + +<p> +“Because he’s thoroughly in the hands of the priests, and if he +were only to touch you with the tips of his fingers he would go and confess it +the day after. Now listen to a bit of good advice. Don’t let the other +man escape you!” +</p> + +<p> +She was silent and thoughtful for a moment or two. Then she got up and went and +bathed her eyes. Yet when they wanted to take her into the dining room she +still shouted “No!” furiously. Vandeuvres left the bedroom, smiling +and without further pressing her, and the moment he was gone she had an access +of melting tenderness, threw herself into Daguenet’s arms and cried out: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my sweetie, there’s only you in the world. I love you! YES, I +love you from the bottom of my heart! Oh, it would be too nice if we could +always live together. My God! How unfortunate women are!” +</p> + +<p> +Then her eye fell upon Georges, who, seeing them kiss, was growing very red, +and she kissed him too. Sweetie could not be jealous of a baby! She wanted Paul +and Georges always to agree, because it would be so nice for them all three to +stay like that, knowing all the time that they loved one another very much. But +an extraordinary noise disturbed them: someone was snoring in the room. +Whereupon after some searching they perceived Bordenave, who, since taking his +coffee, must have comfortably installed himself there. He was sleeping on two +chairs, his head propped on the edge of the bed and his leg stretched out in +front. Nana thought him so funny with his open mouth and his nose moving with +each successive snore that she was shaken with a mad fit of laughter. She left +the room, followed by Daguenet and Georges, crossed the dining room, entered +the drawing room, her merriment increasing at every step. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear, you’ve no idea!” she cried, almost throwing +herself into Rose’s arms. “Come and see it.” +</p> + +<p> +All the women had to follow her. She took their hands coaxingly and drew them +along with her willy-nilly, accompanying her action with so frank an outburst +of mirth that they all of them began laughing on trust. The band vanished and +returned after standing breathlessly for a second or two round +Bordenave’s lordly, outstretched form. And then there was a burst of +laughter, and when one of them told the rest to be quiet Bordenave’s +distant snorings became audible. +</p> + +<p> +It was close on four o’clock. In the dining room a card table had just +been set out, at which Vandeuvres, Steiner, Mignon and Labordette had taken +their seats. Behind them Lucy and Caroline stood making bets, while Blanche, +nodding with sleep and dissatisfied about her night, kept asking Vandeuvres at +intervals of five minutes if they weren’t going soon. In the drawing room +there was an attempt at dancing. Daguenet was at the piano or “chest of +drawers,” as Nana called it. She did not want a “thumper,” +for Mimi would play as many waltzes and polkas as the company desired. But the +dance was languishing, and the ladies were chatting drowsily together in the +corners of sofas. Suddenly, however, there was an outburst of noise. A band of +eleven young men had arrived and were laughing loudly in the anteroom and +crowding to the drawing room. They had just come from the ball at the Ministry +of the Interior and were in evening dress and wore various unknown orders. Nana +was annoyed at this riotous entry, called to the waiters who still remained in +the kitchen and ordered them to throw these individuals out of doors. She vowed +that she had never seen any of them before. Fauchery, Labordette, Daguenet and +the rest of the men had all come forward in order to enforce respectful +behavior toward their hostess. Big words flew about; arms were outstretched, +and for some seconds a general exchange of fisticuffs was imminent. +Notwithstanding this, however, a little sickly looking light-haired man kept +insistently repeating: +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, Nana, you saw us the other evening at Peters’ in the +great red saloon! Pray remember, you invited us.” +</p> + +<p> +The other evening at Peters’? She did not remember it all. To begin with, +what evening? +</p> + +<p> +And when the little light-haired man had mentioned the day, which was +Wednesday, she distinctly remembered having supped at Peters’ on the +Wednesday, but she had given no invitation to anyone; she was almost sure of +that. +</p> + +<p> +“However, suppose you HAVE invited them, my good girl,” murmured +Labordette, who was beginning to have his doubts. “Perhaps you were a +little elevated.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Nana fell a-laughing. It was quite possible; she really didn’t know. +So then, since these gentlemen were on the spot, they had her leave to come in. +Everything was quietly arranged; several of the newcomers found friends in the +drawing room, and the scene ended in handshakings. The little sickly looking +light-haired man bore one of the greatest names in France. Furthermore, the +eleven announced that others were to follow them, and, in fact, the door opened +every few moments, and men in white gloves and official garb presented +themselves. They were still coming from the ball at the Ministry. Fauchery +jestingly inquired whether the minister was not coming, too, but Nana answered +in a huff that the minister went to the houses of people she didn’t care +a pin for. What she did not say was that she was possessed with a hope of +seeing Count Muffat enter her room among all that stream of people. He might +quite have reconsidered his decision, and so while talking to Rose she kept a +sharp eye on the door. +</p> + +<p> +Five o’clock struck. The dancing had ceased, and the cardplayers alone +persisted in their game. Labordette had vacated his seat, and the women had +returned into the drawing room. The air there was heavy with the somnolence +which accompanies a long vigil, and the lamps cast a wavering light while their +burned-out wicks glowed red within their globes. The ladies had reached that +vaguely melancholy hour when they felt it necessary to tell each other their +histories. Blanche de Sivry spoke of her grandfather, the general, while +Clarisse invented a romantic story about a duke seducing her at her +uncle’s house, whither he used to come for the boar hunting. Both women, +looking different ways, kept shrugging their shoulders and asking themselves +how the deuce the other could tell such whoppers! As to Lucy Stewart, she +quietly confessed to her origin and of her own accord spoke of her childhood +and of the days when her father, the wheel greaser at the Northern Railway +Terminus, used to treat her to an apple puff on Sundays. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I must tell you about it!” cried the little Maria Blond +abruptly. “Opposite to me there lives a gentleman, a Russian, an awfully +rich man! Well, just fancy, yesterday I received a basket of fruit—oh, it +just was a basket! Enormous peaches, grapes as big as that, simply wonderful +for the time of year! And in the middle of them six thousand-franc notes! It +was the Russian’s doing. Of course I sent the whole thing back again, but +I must say my heart ached a little—when I thought of the fruit!” +</p> + +<p> +The ladies looked at one another and pursed up their lips. At her age little +Maria Blond had a pretty cheek! Besides, to think that such things should +happen to trollops like her! Infinite was their contempt for her among +themselves. It was Lucy of whom they were particularly jealous, for they were +beside themselves at the thought of her three princes. Since Lucy had begun +taking a daily morning ride in the Bois they all had become Amazons, as though +a mania possessed them. +</p> + +<p> +Day was about to dawn, and Nana turned her eyes away from the door, for she was +relinquishing all hope. The company were bored to distraction. Rose Mignon had +refused to sing the “Slipper” and sat huddled up on a sofa, +chatting in a low voice with Fauchery and waiting for Mignon, who had by now +won some fifty louis from Vandeuvres. A fat gentleman with a decoration and a +serious cast of countenance had certainly given a recitation in Alsatian +accents of “Abraham’s Sacrifice,” a piece in which the +Almighty says, “By My blasted Name” when He swears, and Isaac +always answers with a “Yes, Papa!” Nobody, however, understood what +it was all about, and the piece had been voted stupid. People were at their +wits’ end how to make merry and to finish the night with fitting +hilarity. For a moment or two Labordette conceived the idea of denouncing +different women in a whisper to La Faloise, who still went prowling round each +individual lady, looking to see if she were hiding his handkerchief in her +bosom. Soon, as there were still some bottles of champagne on the sideboard, +the young men again fell to drinking. They shouted to one another; they stirred +each other up, but a dreary species of intoxication, which was stupid enough to +drive one to despair, began to overcome the company beyond hope of recovery. +Then the little fair-haired fellow, the man who bore one of the greatest names +in France and had reached his wit’s end and was desperate at the thought +that he could not hit upon something really funny, conceived a brilliant +notion: he snatched up his bottle of champagne and poured its contents into the +piano. His allies were convulsed with laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“La now! Why’s he putting champagne into the piano?” asked +Tatan Nene in great astonishment as she caught sight of him. +</p> + +<p> +“What, my lass, you don’t know why he’s doing that?” +replied Labordette solemnly. “There’s nothing so good as champagne +for pianos. It gives ’em tone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” murmured Tatan Nene with conviction. +</p> + +<p> +And when the rest began laughing at her she grew angry. How should she know? +They were always confusing her. +</p> + +<p> +Decidedly the evening was becoming a big failure. The night threatened to end +in the unloveliest way. In a corner by themselves Maria Blond and Léa de Horn +had begun squabbling at close quarters, the former accusing the latter of +consorting with people of insufficient wealth. They were getting vastly abusive +over it, their chief stumbling block being the good looks of the men in +question. Lucy, who was plain, got them to hold their tongues. Good looks were +nothing, according to her; good figures were what was wanted. Farther off, on a +sofa, an attache had slipped his arm round Simonne’s waist and was trying +to kiss her neck, but Simonne, sullen and thoroughly out of sorts, pushed him +away at every fresh attempt with cries of “You’re pestering +me!” and sound slaps of the fan across his face. For the matter of that, +not one of the ladies allowed herself to be touched. Did people take them for +light women? Gaga, in the meantime, had once more caught La Faloise and had +almost hoisted him upon her knees while Clarisse was disappearing from view +between two gentlemen, shaking with nervous laughter as women will when they +are tickled. Round about the piano they were still busy with their little game, +for they were suffering from a fit of stupid imbecility, which caused each man +to jostle his fellow in his frantic desire to empty his bottle into the +instrument. It was a simple process and a charming one. +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, old boy, drink a glass! Devil take it, he’s a thirsty +piano! Hi! ’Tenshun! Here’s another bottle! You mustn’t lose +a drop!” +</p> + +<p> +Nana’s back was turned, and she did not see them. Emphatically she was +now falling back on the bulky Steiner, who was seated next to her. So much the +worse! It was all on account of that Muffat, who had refused what was offered +him. Sitting there in her white foulard dress, which was as light and full of +folds as a shift, sitting there with drooped eyelids and cheeks pale with the +touch of intoxication from which she was suffering, she offered herself to him +with that quiet expression which is peculiar to a good-natured courtesan. The +roses in her hair and at her throat had lost their leaves, and their stalks +alone remained. Presently Steiner withdrew his hand quickly from the folds of +her skirt, where he had come in contact with the pins that Georges had stuck +there. Some drops of blood appeared on his fingers, and one fell on +Nana’s dress and stained it. +</p> + +<p> +“Now the bargain’s struck,” said Nana gravely. +</p> + +<p> +The day was breaking apace. An uncertain glimmer of light, fraught with a +poignant melancholy, came stealing through the windows. And with that the +guests began to take their departure. It was a most sour and uncomfortable +retreat. Caroline Hequet, annoyed at the loss of her night, announced that it +was high time to be off unless you were anxious to assist at some pretty +scenes. Rose pouted as if her womanly character had been compromised. It was +always so with these girls; they didn’t know how to behave and were +guilty of disgusting conduct when they made their first appearance in society! +And Mignon having cleaned Vandeuvres out completely, the family took their +departure. They did not trouble about Steiner but renewed their invitation for +tomorrow to Fauchery. Lucy thereupon refused the journalist’s escort home +and sent him back shrilly to his “strolling actress.” At this Rose +turned round immediately and hissed out a “Dirty sow” by way of +answer. But Mignon, who in feminine quarrels was always paternal, for his +experience was a long one and rendered him superior to them, had already pushed +her out of the house, telling her at the same time to have done. Lucy came +downstairs in solitary state behind them. After which Gaga had to carry off La +Faloise, ill, sobbing like a child, calling after Clarisse, who had long since +gone off with her two gentlemen. Simonne, too, had vanished. Indeed, none +remained save Tatan, Léa and Maria, whom Labordette complaisantly took under +his charge. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but I don’t the least bit want to go to bed!” said Nana. +“One ought to find something to do.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at the sky through the windowpanes. It was a livid sky, and sooty +clouds were scudding across it. It was six o’clock in the morning. Over +the way, on the opposite side of the Boulevard Haussmann, the glistening roofs +of the still-slumbering houses were sharply outlined against the twilight sky +while along the deserted roadway a gang of street sweepers passed with a +clatter of wooden shoes. As she viewed Paris thus grimly awakening, she was +overcome by tender, girlish feelings, by a yearning for the country, for +idyllic scenes, for things soft and white. +</p> + +<p> +“Now guess what you’re to do,” she said, coming back to +Steiner. “You’re going to take me to the Bois de Boulogne, and +we’ll drink milk there.” +</p> + +<p> +She clapped her hands in childish glee. Without waiting for the banker’s +reply—he naturally consented, though he was really rather bored and +inclined to think of other things—she ran off to throw a pelisse over her +shoulders. In the drawing room there was now no one with Steiner save the band +of young men. These had by this time dropped the very dregs of their glasses +into the piano and were talking of going, when one of their number ran in +triumphantly. He held in his hands a last remaining bottle, which he had +brought back with him from the pantry. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” he shouted. “Here’s a +bottle of chartreuse; that’ll pick him up! And now, my young friends, +let’s hook it. We’re blooming idiots.” +</p> + +<p> +In the dressing room Nana was compelled to wake up Zoé, who had dozed off on a +chair. The gas was still alight, and Zoé shivered as she helped her mistress on +with her hat and pelisse. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s over; I’ve done what you wanted me to,” +said Nana, speaking familiarly to the maid in a sudden burst of expansive +confidence and much relieved at the thought that she had at last made her +election. “You were quite right; the banker’s as good as +another.” +</p> + +<p> +The maid was cross, for she was still heavy with sleep. She grumbled something +to the effect that Madame ought to have come to a decision the first evening. +Then following her into the bedroom, she asked what she was going to do with +“those two,” meaning Bordenave, who was snoring away as usual, and +Georges, who had slipped in slyly, buried his head in a pillow and, finally +falling asleep there, was now breathing as lightly and regularly as a cherub. +Nana in reply told her that she was to let them sleep on. But seeing Daguenet +come into the room, she again grew tender. He had been watching her from the +kitchen and was looking very wretched. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, my sweetie, be reasonable,” she said, taking him in her arms +and kissing him with all sorts of little wheedling caresses. +“Nothing’s changed; you know that it’s sweetie whom I always +adore! Eh, dear? I had to do it. Why, I swear to you we shall have even nicer +times now. Come tomorrow, and we’ll arrange about hours. Now be quick, +kiss and hug me as you love me. Oh, tighter, tighter than that!” +</p> + +<p> +And she escaped and rejoined Steiner, feeling happy and once more possessed +with the idea of drinking milk. In the empty room the Count de Vandeuvres was +left alone with the “decorated” man who had recited +“Abraham’s Sacrifice.” Both seemed glued to the card table; +they had lost count of their whereabouts and never once noticed the broad light +of day without, while Blanche had made bold to put her feet up on a sofa in +order to try and get a little sleep. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Blanche is with them!” cried Nana. “We are going to +drink milk, dear. Do come; you’ll find Vandeuvres here when we +return.” +</p> + +<p> +Blanche got up lazily. This time the banker’s fiery face grew white with +annoyance at the idea of having to take that big wench with him too. She was +certain to bore him. But the two women had already got him by the arms and were +reiterating: +</p> + +<p> +“We want them to milk the cow before our eyes, you know.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"></a> CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p> +At the Variétés they were giving the thirty-fourth performance of the Blonde +Venus. The first act had just finished, and in the greenroom Simonne, dressed +as the little laundress, was standing in front of a console table, surmounted +by a looking glass and situated between the two corner doors which opened +obliquely on the end of the dressing-room passage. No one was with her, and she +was scrutinizing her face and rubbing her finger up and down below her eyes +with a view to putting the finishing touches to her make-up. The gas jets on +either side of the mirror flooded her with warm, crude light. +</p> + +<p> +“Has he arrived?” asked Prullière, entering the room in his Alpine +admiral’s costume, which was set off by a big sword, enormous top boots +and a vast tuft of plumes. +</p> + +<p> +“Who d’you mean?” said Simonne, taking no notice of him and +laughing into the mirror in order to see how her lips looked. +</p> + +<p> +“The prince.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know; I’ve just come down. Oh, he’s certainly +due here tonight; he comes every time!” +</p> + +<p> +Prullière had drawn near the hearth opposite the console table, where a coke +fire was blazing and two more gas jets were flaring brightly. He lifted his +eyes and looked at the clock and the barometer on his right hand and on his +left. They had gilded sphinxes by way of adornment in the style of the First +Empire. Then he stretched himself out in a huge armchair with ears, the green +velvet of which had been so worn by four generations of comedians that it +looked yellow in places, and there he stayed, with moveless limbs and vacant +eyes, in that weary and resigned attitude peculiar to actors who are used to +long waits before their turn for going on the stage. +</p> + +<p> +Old Bosc, too, had just made his appearance. He came in dragging one foot +behind the other and coughing. He was wrapped in an old box coat, part of which +had slipped from his shoulder in such a way as to uncover the gold-laced cloak +of King Dagobert. He put his crown on the piano and for a moment or two stood +moodily stamping his feet. His hands were trembling slightly with the first +beginnings of alcoholism, but he looked a sterling old fellow for all that, and +a long white beard lent that fiery tippler’s face of his a truly +venerable appearance. Then in the silence of the room, while the shower of hail +was whipping the panes of the great window that looked out on the courtyard, he +shook himself disgustedly. +</p> + +<p> +“What filthy weather!” he growled. +</p> + +<p> +Simonne and Prullière did not move. Four or five pictures—a landscape, a +portrait of the actor Vernet—hung yellowing in the hot glare of the gas, +and a bust of Potier, one of the bygone glories of the Variétés, stood gazing +vacant-eyed from its pedestal. But just then there was a burst of voices +outside. It was Fontan, dressed for the second act. He was a young dandy, and +his habiliments, even to his gloves, were entirely yellow. +</p> + +<p> +“Now say you don’t know!” he shouted, gesticulating. +“Today’s my patron saint’s day!” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” asked Simonne, coming up smilingly, as though attracted by +the huge nose and the vast, comic mouth of the man. “D’you answer +to the name of Achille?” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly so! And I’m going to get ’em to tell Madame Bron to +send up champagne after the second act.” +</p> + +<p> +For some seconds a bell had been ringing in the distance. The long-drawn sound +grew fainter, then louder, and when the bell ceased a shout ran up the stair +and down it till it was lost along the passages. “All on the stage for +the second act! All on the stage for the second act!” The sound drew +near, and a little pale-faced man passed by the greenroom doors, outside each +of which he yelled at the top of his shrill voice, “On the stage for the +second act!” +</p> + +<p> +“The deuce, it’s champagne!” said Prullière without appearing +to hear the din. “You’re prospering!” +</p> + +<p> +“If I were you I should have it in from the cafe,” old Bosc slowly +announced. He was sitting on a bench covered with green velvet, with his head +against the wall. +</p> + +<p> +But Simonne said that it was one’s duty to consider Mme Bron’s +small perquisites. She clapped her hands excitedly and devoured Fontan with her +gaze while his long goatlike visage kept up a continuous twitching of eyes and +nose and mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that Fontan!” she murmured. “There’s no one like +him, no one like him!” +</p> + +<p> +The two greenroom doors stood wide open to the corridor leading to the wings. +And along the yellow wall, which was brightly lit up by a gas lamp out of view, +passed a string of rapidly moving shadows—men in costume, women with +shawls over their scant attire, in a word, the whole of the characters in the +second act, who would shortly make their appearance as masqeuraders in the ball +at the Boule Noire. And at the end of the corridor became audible a shuffling +of feet as these people clattered down the five wooden steps which led to the +stage. As the big Clarisse went running by Simonne called to her, but she said +she would be back directly. And, indeed, she reappeared almost at once, +shivering in the thin tunic and scarf which she wore as Iris. +</p> + +<p> +“God bless me!” she said. “It isn’t warm, and +I’ve left my furs in my dressing room!” +</p> + +<p> +Then as she stood toasting her legs in their warm rose-colored tights in front +of the fireplace she resumed: +</p> + +<p> +“The prince has arrived.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” cried the rest with the utmost curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s why I ran down: I wanted to see. He’s in the +first stage box to the right, the same he was in on Thursday. It’s the +third time he’s been this week, eh? That’s Nana; well, she’s +in luck’s way! I was willing to wager he wouldn’t come +again.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonne opened her lips to speak, but her remarks were drowned by a fresh shout +which arose close to the greenroom. In the passage the callboy was yelling at +the top of his shrill voice, “They’ve knocked!” +</p> + +<p> +“Three times!” said Simonne when she was again able to speak. +“It’s getting exciting. You know, he won’t go to her place; +he takes her to his. And it seems that he has to pay for it too!” +</p> + +<p> +“Egad! It’s a case of when one ‘has to go out,’” +muttered Prullière wickedly, and he got up to have a last look at the mirror as +became a handsome fellow whom the boxes adored. +</p> + +<p> +“They’ve knocked! They’ve knocked!” the callboy kept +repeating in tones that died gradually away in the distance as he passed +through the various stories and corridors. +</p> + +<p> +Fontan thereupon, knowing how it had all gone off on the first occasion the +prince and Nana met, told the two women the whole story while they in their +turn crowded against him and laughed at the tops of their voices whenever he +stooped to whisper certain details in their ears. Old Bosc had never budged an +inch—he was totally indifferent. That sort of thing no longer interested +him now. He was stroking a great tortoise-shell cat which was lying curled up +on the bench. He did so quite beautifully and ended by taking her in his arms +with the tender good nature becoming a worn-out monarch. The cat arched its +back and then, after a prolonged sniff at the big white beard, the gluey odor +of which doubtless disgusted her, she turned and, curling herself up, went to +sleep again on the bench beside him. Bosc remained grave and absorbed. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all right, but if I were you I should drink the champagne +at the restaurant—its better there,” he said, suddenly addressing +Fontan when he had finished his recital. +</p> + +<p> +“The curtain’s up!” cried the callboy in cracked and +long-drawn accents “The curtain’s up! The curtain’s +up!” +</p> + +<p> +The shout sounded for some moments, during which there had been a noise of +rapid footsteps. Through the suddenly opened door of the passage came a burst +of music and a far-off murmur of voices, and then the door shut to again and +you could hear its dull thud as it wedged itself into position once more. +</p> + +<p> +A heavy, peaceful, atmosphere again pervaded the greenroom, as though the place +were situated a hundred leagues from the house where crowds were applauding. +Simonne and Clarisse were still on the topic of Nana. There was a girl who +never hurried herself! Why, yesterday she had again come on too late! But there +was a silence, for a tall damsel had just craned her head in at the door and, +seeing that she had made a mistake, had departed to the other end of the +passage. It was Satin. Wearing a hat and a small veil for the nonce she was +affecting the manner of a lady about to pay a call. +</p> + +<p> +“A pretty trollop!” muttered Prullière, who had been coming across +her for a year past at the Café des Variétés. And at this Simonne told them how +Nana had recognized in Satin an old schoolmate, had taken a vast fancy to her +and was now plaguing Bordenave to let her make a first appearance on the stage. +</p> + +<p> +“How d’ye do?” said Fontan, shaking hands with Mignon and +Fauchery, who now came into the room. +</p> + +<p> +Old Bosc himself gave them the tips of his fingers while the two women kissed +Mignon. +</p> + +<p> +“A good house this evening?” queried Fauchery. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, a splendid one!” replied Prullière. “You should see +’em gaping.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say, my little dears,” remarked Mignon, “it must be your +turn!” +</p> + +<p> +Oh, all in good time! They were only at the fourth scene as yet, but Bosc got +up in obedience to instinct, as became a rattling old actor who felt that his +cue was coming. At that very moment the callboy was opening the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Bosc!” he called. “Mademoiselle Simonne!” +</p> + +<p> +Simonne flung a fur-lined pelisse briskly over her shoulders and went out. +Bosc, without hurrying at all, went and got his crown, which he settled on his +brow with a rap. Then dragging himself unsteadily along in his greatcoat, he +took his departure, grumbling and looking as annoyed as a man who has been +rudely disturbed. +</p> + +<p> +“You were very amiable in your last notice,” continued Fontan, +addressing Fauchery. “Only why do you say that comedians are vain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my little man, why d’you say that?” shouted Mignon, +bringing down his huge hands on the journalist’s slender shoulders with +such force as almost to double him up. +</p> + +<p> +Prullière and Clarisse refrained from laughing aloud. For some time past the +whole company had been deriving amusement from a comedy which was going on in +the wings. Mignon, rendered frantic by his wife’s caprice and annoyed at +the thought that this man Fauchery brought nothing but a certain doubtful +notoriety to his household, had conceived the idea of revenging himself on the +journalist by overwhelming him with tokens of friendship. Every evening, +therefore, when he met him behind scenes he would shower friendly slaps on his +back and shoulders, as though fairly carried away by an outburst of tenderness, +and Fauchery, who was a frail, small man in comparison with such a giant, was +fain to take the raps with a strained smile in order not to quarrel with +Rose’s husband. +</p> + +<p> +“Aha, my buck, you’ve insulted Fontan,” resumed Mignon, who +was doing his best to force the joke. “Stand on guard! +One—two—got him right in the middle of his chest!” +</p> + +<p> +He lunged and struck the young man with such force that the latter grew very +pale and could not speak for some seconds. With a wink Clarisse showed the +others where Rose Mignon was standing on the threshold of the greenroom. Rose +had witnessed the scene, and she marched straight up to the journalist, as +though she had failed to notice her husband and, standing on tiptoe, bare-armed +and in baby costume, she held her face up to him with a caressing, infantine +pout. +</p> + +<p> +“Good evening, baby,” said Fauchery, kissing her familiarly. +</p> + +<p> +Thus he indemnified himself. Mignon, however, did not seem to have observed +this kiss, for everybody kissed his wife at the theater. But he laughed and +gave the journalist a keen little look. The latter would assurely have to pay +for Rose’s bravado. +</p> + +<p> +In the passage the tightly shutting door opened and closed again, and a tempest +of applause was blown as far as the greenroom. Simonne came in after her scene. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Father Bosc HAS just scored!” she cried. “The prince was +writhing with laughter and applauded with the rest as though he had been paid +to. I say, do you know the big man sitting beside the prince in the stage box? +A handsome man, with a very sedate expression and splendid whiskers!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Count Muffat,” replied Fauchery. “I know that the +prince, when he was at the empress’s the day before yesterday, invited +him to dinner for tonight. He’ll have corrupted him afterward!” +</p> + +<p> +“So that’s Count Muffat! We know his father-in-law, eh, +Auguste?” said Rose, addressing her remark to Mignon. “You know the +Marquis de Chouard, at whose place I went to sing? Well, he’s in the +house too. I noticed him at the back of a box. There’s an old boy for +you!” +</p> + +<p> +Prullière, who had just put on his huge plume of feathers, turned round and +called her. +</p> + +<p> +“Hi, Rose! Let’s go now!” +</p> + +<p> +She ran after him, leaving her sentence unfinished. At that moment Mme Bron, +the portress of the theater, passed by the door with an immense bouquet in her +arms. Simonne asked cheerfully if it was for her, but the porter woman did not +vouchsafe an answer and only pointed her chin toward Nana’s dressing room +at the end of the passage. Oh, that Nana! They were loading her with flowers! +Then when Mme Bron returned she handed a letter to Clarisse, who allowed a +smothered oath to escape her. That beggar La Faloise again! There was a fellow +who wouldn’t let her alone! And when she learned the gentleman in +question was waiting for her at the porter’s lodge she shrieked: +</p> + +<p> +“Tell him I’m coming down after this act. I’m going to catch +him one on the face.” +</p> + +<p> +Fontan had rushed forward, shouting: +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Bron, just listen. Please listen, Madame Bron. I want you to send +up six bottles of champagne between the acts.” +</p> + +<p> +But the callboy had again made his appearance. He was out of breath, and in a +singsong voice he called out: +</p> + +<p> +“All to go on the stage! It’s your turn, Monsieur Fontan. Make +haste, make haste!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, I’m going, Father Barillot,” replied Fontan in a +flurry. +</p> + +<p> +And he ran after Mme Bron and continued: +</p> + +<p> +“You understand, eh? Six bottles of champagne in the greenroom between +the acts. It’s my patron saint’s day, and I’m standing the +racket.” +</p> + +<p> +Simonne and Clarisse had gone off with a great rustling of skirts. Everybody +was swallowed up in the distance, and when the passage door had banged with its +usual hollow sound a fresh hail shower was heard beating against the windows in +the now-silent greenroom. Barillot, a small, pale-faced ancient, who for thirty +years had been a servant in the theater, had advanced familiarly toward Mignon +and had presented his open snuffbox to him. This proffer of a pinch and its +acceptance allowed him a minute’s rest in his interminable career up and +down stairs and along the dressing-room passage. He certainly had still to look +up Mme Nana, as he called her, but she was one of those who followed her own +sweet will and didn’t care a pin for penalties. Why, if she chose to be +too late she was too late! But he stopped short and murmured in great surprise: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I never! She’s ready; here she is! She must know that the +prince is here.” +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, Nana appeared in the corridor. She was dressed as a fish hag: her arms +and face were plastered with white paint, and she had a couple of red dabs +under her eyes. Without entering the greenroom she contented herself by nodding +to Mignon and Fauchery. +</p> + +<p> +“How do? You’re all right?” +</p> + +<p> +Only Mignon shook her outstretched hand, and she hied royally on her way, +followed by her dresser, who almost trod on her heels while stooping to adjust +the folds of her skirt. In the rear of the dresser came Satin, closing the +procession and trying to look quite the lady, though she was already bored to +death. +</p> + +<p> +“And Steiner?” asked Mignon sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Steiner has gone away to the Loiret,” said Barillot, +preparing to return to the neighborhood of the stage. “I expect +he’s gone to buy a country place in those parts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah yes, I know, Nana’s country place.” +</p> + +<p> +Mignon had grown suddenly serious. Oh, that Steiner! He had promised Rose a +fine house in the old days! Well, well, it wouldn’t do to grow angry with +anybody. Here was a position that would have to be won again. From fireplace to +console table Mignon paced, sunk in thought yet still unconquered by +circumstances. There was no one in the greenroom now save Fauchery and himself. +The journalist was tired and had flung himself back into the recesses of the +big armchair. There he stayed with half-closed eyes and as quiet as quiet could +be, while the other glanced down at him as he passed. When they were alone +Mignon scorned to slap him at every turn. What good would it have done, since +nobody would have enjoyed the spectacle? He was far too disinterested to be +personally entertained by the farcical scenes in which he figured as a +bantering husband. Glad of this short-lived respite, Fauchery stretched his +feet out languidly toward the fire and let his upturned eyes wander from the +barometer to the clock. In the course of his march Mignon planted himself in +front of Potier’s bust, looked at it without seeming to see it and then +turned back to the window, outside which yawned the darkling gulf of the +courtyard. The rain had ceased, and there was now a deep silence in the room, +which the fierce heat of the coke fire and the flare of the gas jets rendered +still more oppressive. Not a sound came from the wings: the staircase and the +passages were deadly still. +</p> + +<p> +That choking sensation of quiet, which behind the scenes immediately precedes +the end of an act, had begun to pervade the empty greenroom. Indeed, the place +seemed to be drowsing off through very breathlessness amid that faint murmur +which the stage gives forth when the whole troupe are raising the deafening +uproar of some grand finale. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the cows!” Bordenave suddenly shouted in his hoarse voice. +</p> + +<p> +He had only just come up, and he was already howling complaints about two +chorus girls who had nearly fallen flat on the stage because they were playing +the fool together. When his eye lit on Mignon and Fauchery he called them; he +wanted to show them something. The prince had just notified a desire to +compliment Nana in her dressing room during the next interval. But as he was +leading them into the wings the stage manager passed. +</p> + +<p> +“Just you find those hags Fernande and Maria!” cried Bordenave +savagely. +</p> + +<p> +Then calming down and endeavoring to assume the dignified expression worn by +“heavy fathers,” he wiped his face with his pocket handkerchief and +added: +</p> + +<p> +“I am now going to receive His Highness.” +</p> + +<p> +The curtain fell amid a long-drawn salvo of applause. Then across the twilight +stage, which was no longer lit up by the footlights, there followed a +disorderly retreat. Actors and supers and chorus made haste to get back to +their dressing rooms while the sceneshifters rapidly changed the scenery. +Simonne and Clarisse, however, had remained “at the top,” talking +together in whispers. On the stage, in an interval between their lines, they +had just settled a little matter. Clarisse, after viewing the thing in every +light, found she preferred not to see La Faloise, who could never decide to +leave her for Gaga, and so Simonne was simply to go and explain that a woman +ought not to be palled up to in that fashion! At last she agreed to undertake +the mission. +</p> + +<p> +Then Simonne, in her theatrical laundress’s attire but with furs over her +shoulders, ran down the greasy steps of the narrow, winding stairs which led +between damp walls to the porter’s lodge. This lodge, situated between +the actors’ staircase and that of the management, was shut in to right +and left by large glass partitions and resembled a huge transparent lantern in +which two gas jets were flaring. +</p> + +<p> +There was a set of pigeonholes in the place in which were piled letters and +newspapers, while on the table various bouquets lay awaiting their recipients +in close proximity to neglected heaps of dirty plates and to an old pair of +stays, the eyelets of which the portress was busy mending. And in the middle of +this untidy, ill-kept storeroom sat four fashionable, white-gloved society men. +They occupied as many ancient straw-bottomed chairs and, with an expression at +once patient and submissive, kept sharply turning their heads in Mme +Bron’s direction every time she came down from the theater overhead, for +on such occasions she was the bearer of replies. Indeed, she had but now handed +a note to a young man who had hurried out to open it beneath the gaslight in +the vestibule, where he had grown slightly pale on reading the classic +phrase—how often had others read it in that very +place!—“Impossible tonight, my dearie! I’m booked!” La +Faloise sat on one of these chairs at the back of the room, between the table +and the stove. He seemed bent on passing the evening there, and yet he was not +quite happy. Indeed, he kept tucking up his long legs in his endeavors to +escape from a whole litter of black kittens who were gamboling wildly round +them while the mother cat sat bolt upright, staring at him with yellow eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, it’s you, Mademoiselle Simonne! What can I do for you?” +asked the portress. +</p> + +<p> +Simonne begged her to send La Faloise out to her. But Mme Bron was unable to +comply with her wishes all at once. Under the stairs in a sort of deep cupboard +she kept a little bar, whither the supers were wont to descend for drinks +between the acts, and seeing that just at that moment there were five or six +tall lubbers there who, still dressed as Boule Noire masqueraders, were dying +of thirst and in a great hurry, she lost her head a bit. A gas jet was flaring +in the cupboard, within which it was possible to descry a tin-covered table and +some shelves garnished with half-emptied bottles. Whenever the door of this +coalhole was opened a violent whiff of alcohol mingled with the scent of stale +cooking in the lodge, as well as with the penetrating scent of the flowers upon +the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Well now,” continued the portress when she had served the supers, +“is it the little dark chap out there you want?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; don’t be silly!” said Simonne. “It’s the +lanky one by the side of the stove. Your cat’s sniffing at his trouser +legs!” +</p> + +<p> +And with that she carried La Faloise off into the lobby, while the other +gentlemen once more resigned themselves to their fate and to semisuffocation +and the masqueraders drank on the stairs and indulged in rough horseplay and +guttural drunken jests. +</p> + +<p> +On the stage above Bordenave was wild with the sceneshifters, who seemed never +to have done changing scenes. They appeared to be acting of set +purpose—the prince would certainly have some set piece or other tumbling +on his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Up with it! Up with it!” shouted the foreman. +</p> + +<p> +At length the canvas at the back of the stage was raised into position, and the +stage was clear. Mignon, who had kept his eye on Fauchery, seized this +opportunity in order to start his pummeling matches again. He hugged him in his +long arms and cried: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, take care! That mast just missed crushing you!” +</p> + +<p> +And he carried him off and shook him before setting him down again. In view of +the sceneshifters’ exaggerated mirth, Fauchery grew white. His lips +trembled, and he was ready to flare up in anger while Mignon, shamming good +nature, was clapping him on the shoulder with such affectionate violence as +nearly to pulverize him. +</p> + +<p> +“I value your health, I do!” he kept repeating. “Egad! I +should be in a pretty pickle if anything serious happened to you!” +</p> + +<p> +But just then a whisper ran through their midst: “The prince! The +prince!” And everybody turned and looked at the little door which opened +out of the main body of the house. At first nothing was visible save +Bordenave’s round back and beefy neck, which bobbed down and arched up in +a series of obsequious obeisances. Then the prince made his appearance. Largely +and strongly built, light of beard and rosy of hue, he was not lacking in the +kind of distinction peculiar to a sturdy man of pleasure, the square contours +of whose limbs are clearly defined by the irreproachable cut of a frock coat. +Behind him walked Count Muffat and the Marquis de Chouard, but this particular +corner of the theater being dark, the group were lost to view amid huge moving +shadows. +</p> + +<p> +In order fittingly to address the son of a queen, who would someday occupy a +throne, Bordenave had assumed the tone of a man exhibiting a bear in the +street. In a voice tremulous with false emotion he kept repeating: +</p> + +<p> +“If His Highness will have the goodness to follow me—would His +Highness deign to come this way? His Highness will take care!” +</p> + +<p> +The prince did not hurry in the least. On the contrary, he was greatly +interested and kept pausing in order to look at the sceneshifters’ +maneuvers. A batten had just been lowered, and the group of gaslights high up +among its iron crossbars illuminated the stage with a wide beam of light. +Muffat, who had never yet been behind scenes at a theater, was even more +astonished than the rest. An uneasy feeling of mingled fear and vague +repugnance took possession of him. He looked up into the heights above him, +where more battens, the gas jets on which were burning low, gleamed like +galaxies of little bluish stars amid a chaos of iron rods, connecting lines of +all sizes, hanging stages and canvases spread out in space, like huge cloths +hung out to dry. +</p> + +<p> +“Lower away!” shouted the foreman unexpectedly. +</p> + +<p> +And the prince himself had to warn the count, for a canvas was descending. They +were setting the scenery for the third act, which was the grotto on Mount Etna. +Men were busy planting masts in the sockets, while others went and took frames +which were leaning against the walls of the stage and proceeded to lash them +with strong cords to the poles already in position. At the back of the stage, +with a view to producing the bright rays thrown by Vulcan’s glowing +forge, a stand had been fixed by a limelight man, who was now lighting various +burners under red glasses. The scene was one of confusion, verging to all +appearances on absolute chaos, but every little move had been prearranged. Nay, +amid all the scurry the whistle blower even took a few turns, stepping short as +he did so, in order to rest his legs. +</p> + +<p> +“His Highness overwhelms me,” said Bordenave, still bowing low. +“The theater is not large, but we do what we can. Now if His Highness +deigns to follow me—” +</p> + +<p> +Count Muffat was already making for the dressing-room passage. The really sharp +downward slope of the stage had surprised him disagreeably, and he owed no +small part of his present anxiety to a feeling that its boards were moving +under his feet. Through the open sockets gas was descried burning in the +“dock.” Human voices and blasts of air, as from a vault, came up +thence, and, looking down into the depths of gloom, one became aware of a whole +subterranean existence. But just as the count was going up the stage a small +incident occurred to stop him. Two little women, dressed for the third act, +were chatting by the peephole in the curtain. One of them, straining forward +and widening the hole with her fingers in order the better to observe things, +was scanning the house beyond. +</p> + +<p> +“I see him,” said she sharply. “Oh, what a mug!” +</p> + +<p> +Horrified, Bordenave had much ado not to give her a kick. But the prince smiled +and looked pleased and excited by the remark. He gazed warmly at the little +woman who did not care a button for His Highness, and she, on her part, laughed +unblushingly. Bordenave, however, persuaded the prince to follow him. Muffat +was beginning to perspire; he had taken his hat off. What inconvenienced him +most was the stuffy, dense, overheated air of the place with its strong, +haunting smell, a smell peculiar to this part of a theater, and, as such, +compact of the reek of gas, of the glue used in the manufacture of the scenery, +of dirty dark nooks and corners and of questionably clean chorus girls. In the +passage the air was still more suffocating, and one seemed to breathe a +poisoned atmosphere, which was occasionally relieved by the acid scents of +toilet waters and the perfumes of various soaps emanating from the dressing +rooms. The count lifted his eyes as he passed and glanced up the staircase, for +he was well-nigh startled by the keen flood of light and warmth which flowed +down upon his back and shoulders. High up above him there was a clicking of +ewers and basins, a sound of laughter and of people calling to one another, a +banging of doors, which in their continual opening and shutting allowed an odor +of womankind to escape—a musky scent of oils and essences mingling with +the natural pungency exhaled from human tresses. He did not stop. Nay, he +hastened his walk: he almost ran, his skin tingling with the breath of that +fiery approach to a world he knew nothing of. +</p> + +<p> +“A theater’s a curious sight, eh?” said the Marquis de +Chouard with the enchanted expression of a man who once more finds himself amid +familiar surroundings. +</p> + +<p> +But Bordenave had at length reached Nana’s dressing room at the end of +the passage. He quietly turned the door handle; then, cringing again: +</p> + +<p> +“If His Highness will have the goodness to enter—” +</p> + +<p> +They heard the cry of a startled woman and caught sight of Nana as, stripped to +the waist, she slipped behind a curtain while her dresser, who had been in the +act of drying her, stood, towel in air, before them. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it IS silly to come in that way!” cried Nana from her hiding +place. “Don’t come in; you see you mustn’t come in!” +</p> + +<p> +Bordenave did not seem to relish this sudden flight. +</p> + +<p> +“Do stay where you were, my dear. Why, it doesn’t matter,” he +said. “It’s His Highness. Come, come, don’t be +childish.” +</p> + +<p> +And when she still refused to make her appearance—for she was startled as +yet, though she had begun to laugh—he added in peevish, paternal tones: +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens, these gentlemen know perfectly well what a woman looks +like. They won’t eat you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not so sure of that,” said the prince wittily. +</p> + +<p> +With that the whole company began laughing in an exaggerated manner in order to +pay him proper court. +</p> + +<p> +“An exquisitely witty speech—an altogether Parisian speech,” +as Bordenave remarked. +</p> + +<p> +Nana vouchsafed no further reply, but the curtain began moving. Doubtless she +was making up her mind. Then Count Muffat, with glowing cheeks, began to take +stock of the dressing room. It was a square room with a very low ceiling, and +it was entirely hung with a light-colored Havana stuff. A curtain of the same +material depended from a copper rod and formed a sort of recess at the end of +the room, while two large windows opened on the courtyard of the theater and +were faced, at a distance of three yards at most, by a leprous-looking wall +against which the panes cast squares of yellow light amid the surrounding +darkness. A large dressing glass faced a white marble toilet table, which was +garnished with a disorderly array of flasks and glass boxes containing oils, +essences and powders. The count went up to the dressing glass and discovered +that he was looking very flushed and had small drops of perspiration on his +forehead. He dropped his eyes and came and took up a position in front of the +toilet table, where the basin, full of soapy water, the small, scattered, ivory +toilet utensils and the damp sponges, appeared for some moments to absorb his +attention. The feeling of dizziness which he had experienced when he first +visited Nana in the Boulevard Haussmann once more overcame him. He felt the +thick carpet soften under foot, and the gasjets burning by the dressing table +and by the glass seemed to shoot whistling flames about his temples. For one +moment, being afraid of fainting away under the influence of those feminine +odors which he now re-encountered, intensified by the heat under the +low-pitched ceiling, he sat down on the edge of a softly padded divan between +the two windows. But he got up again almost directly and, returning to the +dressing table, seemed to gaze with vacant eyes into space, for he was thinking +of a bouquet of tuberoses which had once faded in his bedroom and had nearly +killed him in their death. When tuberoses are turning brown they have a human +smell. +</p> + +<p> +“Make haste!” Bordenave whispered, putting his head in behind the +curtain. +</p> + +<p> +The prince, however, was listening complaisantly to the Marquis de Chouard, who +had taken up a hare’s-foot on the dressing table and had begun explaining +the way grease paint is put on. In a corner of the room Satin, with her pure, +virginal face, was scanning the gentlemen keenly, while the dresser, Mme Jules +by name, was getting ready Venus’ tights and tunic. Mme Jules was a woman +of no age. She had the parchment skin and changeless features peculiar to old +maids whom no one ever knew in their younger years. She had indeed shriveled up +in the burning atmosphere of the dressing rooms and amid the most famous thighs +and bosoms in all Paris. She wore everlastingly a faded black dress, and on her +flat and sexless chest a perfect forest of pins clustered above the spot where +her heart should have been. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon, gentlemen,” said Nana, drawing aside the +curtain, “but you took me by surprise.” +</p> + +<p> +They all turned round. She had not clothed herself at all, had, in fact, only +buttoned on a little pair of linen stays which half revealed her bosom. When +the gentlemen had put her to flight she had scarcely begun undressing and was +rapidly taking off her fishwife’s costume. Through the opening in her +drawers behind a corner of her shift was even now visible. There she stood, +bare-armed, bare-shouldered, bare-breasted, in all the adorable glory of her +youth and plump, fair beauty, but she still held the curtain with one hand, as +though ready to draw it to again upon the slightest provocation. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you took me by surprise! I never shall dare—” she +stammered in pretty, mock confusion, while rosy blushes crossed her neck and +shoulders and smiles of embarrassment played about her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t apologize,” cried Bordenave, “since these +gentlemen approve of your good looks!” +</p> + +<p> +But she still tried the hesitating, innocent, girlish game, and, shivering as +though someone were tickling her, she continued: +</p> + +<p> +“His Highness does me too great an honor. I beg His Highness will excuse +my receiving him thus—” +</p> + +<p> +“It is I who am importunate,” said the prince, “but, madame, +I could not resist the desire of complimenting you.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon, in order to reach her dressing table, she walked very quietly and +just as she was through the midst of the gentlemen, who made way for her to +pass. +</p> + +<p> +She had strongly marked hips, which filled her drawers out roundly, while with +swelling bosom she still continued bowing and smiling her delicate little +smile. Suddenly she seemed to recognize Count Muffat, and she extended her hand +to him as an old friend. Then she scolded him for not having come to her supper +party. His Highness deigned to chaff Muffat about this, and the latter +stammered and thrilled again at the thought that for one second he had held in +his own feverish clasp a little fresh and perfumed hand. The count had dined +excellently at the prince’s, who, indeed, was a heroic eater and drinker. +Both of them were even a little intoxicated, but they behaved very creditably. +To hide the commotion within him Muffat could only remark about the heat. +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens, how hot it is here!” he said. “How do you +manage to live in such a temperature, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +And conversation was about to ensue on this topic when noisy voices were heard +at the dressing-room door. Bordenave drew back the slide over a grated peephole +of the kind used in convents. Fontan was outside with Prullière and Bosc, and +all three had bottles under their arms and their hands full of glasses. He +began knocking and shouting out that it was his patron saint’s day and +that he was standing champagne round. Nana consulted the prince with a glance. +Eh! Oh dear, yes! His Highness did not want to be in anyone’s way; he +would be only too happy! But without waiting for permission Fontan came in, +repeating in baby accents: +</p> + +<p> +“Me not a cad, me pay for champagne!” +</p> + +<p> +Then all of a sudden he became aware of the prince’s presence of which he +had been totally ignorant. He stopped short and, assuming an air of farcical +solemnity, announced: +</p> + +<p> +“King Dagobert is in the corridor and is desirous of drinking the health +of His Royal Highness.” +</p> + +<p> +The prince having made answer with a smile, Fontan’s sally was voted +charming. But the dressing room was too small to accommodate everybody, and it +became necessary to crowd up anyhow, Satin and Mme Jules standing back against +the curtain at the end and the men clustering closely round the half-naked +Nana. The three actors still had on the costumes they had been wearing in the +second act, and while Prullière took off his Alpine admiral’s cocked hat, +the huge plume of which would have knocked the ceiling, Bosc, in his purple +cloak and tinware crown, steadied himself on his tipsy old legs and greeted the +prince as became a monarch receiving the son of a powerful neighbor. The +glasses were filled, and the company began clinking them together. +</p> + +<p> +“I drink to Your Highness!” said ancient Bosc royally. +</p> + +<p> +“To the army!” added Prullière. +</p> + +<p> +“To Venus!” cried Fontan. +</p> + +<p> +The prince complaisantly poised his glass, waited quietly, bowed thrice and +murmured: +</p> + +<p> +“Madame! Admiral! Your Majesty!” +</p> + +<p> +Then he drank it off. Count Muffat and the Marquis de Chouard had followed his +example. There was no more jesting now—the company were at court. Actual +life was prolonged in the life of the theater, and a sort of solemn farce was +enacted under the hot flare of the gas. Nana, quite forgetting that she was in +her drawers and that a corner of her shift stuck out behind, became the great +lady, the queen of love, in act to open her most private palace chambers to +state dignitaries. In every sentence she used the words “Royal +Highness” and, bowing with the utmost conviction, treated the +masqueraders, Bosc and Prullière, as if the one were a sovereign and the other +his attendant minister. And no one dreamed of smiling at this strange contrast, +this real prince, this heir to a throne, drinking a petty actor’s +champagne and taking his ease amid a carnival of gods, a masquerade of royalty, +in the society of dressers and courtesans, shabby players and showmen of venal +beauty. Bordenave was simply ravished by the dramatic aspects of the scene and +began dreaming of the receipts which would have accrued had His Highness only +consented thus to appear in the second act of the Blonde Venus. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, shall we have our little women down?” he cried, becoming +familiar. +</p> + +<p> +Nana would not hear of it. But notwithstanding this, she was giving way +herself. Fontan attracted her with his comic make-up. She brushed against him +and, eying him as a woman in the family way might do when she fancies some +unpleasant kind of food, she suddenly became extremely familiar: +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, fill up again, ye great brute!” +</p> + +<p> +Fontan charged the glasses afresh, and the company drank, repeating the same +toasts. +</p> + +<p> +“To His Highness!” +</p> + +<p> +“To the army!” +</p> + +<p> +“To Venus!” +</p> + +<p> +But with that Nana made a sign and obtained silence. She raised her glass and +cried: +</p> + +<p> +“No, no! To Fontan! It’s Fontan’s day; to Fontan! To +Fontan!” +</p> + +<p> +Then they clinked glasses a third time and drank Fontan with all the honors. +The prince, who had noticed the young woman devouring the actor with her eyes, +saluted him with a “Monsieur Fontan, I drink to your success!” This +he said with his customary courtesy. +</p> + +<p> +But meanwhile the tail of his highness’s frock coat was sweeping the +marble of the dressing table. The place, indeed, was like an alcove or narrow +bathroom, full as it was of the steam of hot water and sponges and of the +strong scent of essences which mingled with the tartish, intoxicating fumes of +the champagne. The prince and Count Muffat, between whom Nana was wedged, had +to lift up their hands so as not to brush against her hips or her breast with +every little movement. And there stood Mme Jules, waiting, cool and rigid as +ever, while Satin, marveling in the depths of her vicious soul to see a prince +and two gentlemen in black coats going after a naked woman in the society of +dressed-up actors, secretly concluded that fashionable people were not so very +particular after all. +</p> + +<p> +But Father Barillot’s tinkling bell approached along the passage. At the +door of the dressing room he stood amazed when he caught sight of the three +actors still clad in the costumes which they had worn in the second act. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” he stammered, “do please make haste. +They’ve just rung the bell in the public foyer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah, the public will have to wait!” said Bordenave placidly. +</p> + +<p> +However, as the bottles were now empty, the comedians went upstairs to dress +after yet another interchange of civilities. Bosc, having dipped his beard in +the champagne, had taken it off, and under his venerable disguise the drunkard +had suddenly reappeared. His was the haggard, empurpled face of the old actor +who has taken to drink. At the foot of the stairs he was heard remarking to +Fontan in his boozy voice: +</p> + +<p> +“I pulverized him, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +He was alluding to the prince. +</p> + +<p> +In Nana’s dressing room none now remained save His Highness, the count +and the marquis. Bordenave had withdrawn with Barillot, whom he advised not to +knock without first letting Madame know. +</p> + +<p> +“You will excuse me, gentlemen?” asked Nana, again setting to work +to make up her arms and face, of which she was now particularly careful, owing +to her nude appearance in the third act. +</p> + +<p> +The prince seated himself by the Marquis de Chouard on the divan, and Count +Muffat alone remained standing. In that suffocating heat the two glasses of +champagne they had drunk had increased their intoxication. Satin, when she saw +the gentlemen thus closeting themselves with her friend, had deemed it discreet +to vanish behind the curtain, where she sat waiting on a trunk, much annoyed at +being compelled to remain motionless, while Mme Jules came and went quietly +without word or look. +</p> + +<p> +“You sang your numbers marvelously,” said the prince. +</p> + +<p> +And with that they began a conversation, but their sentences were short and +their pauses frequent. Nana, indeed, was not always able to reply. After +rubbing cold cream over her arms and face with the palm of her hand she laid on +the grease paint with the corner of a towel. For one second only she ceased +looking in the glass and smilingly stole a glance at the prince. +</p> + +<p> +“His Highness is spoiling me,” she murmured without putting down +the grease paint. +</p> + +<p> +Her task was a complicated one, and the Marquis de Chouard followed it with an +expression of devout enjoyment. He spoke in his turn. +</p> + +<p> +“Could not the band accompany you more softly?” he said. “It +drowns your voice, and that’s an unpardonable crime.” +</p> + +<p> +This time Nana did not turn round. She had taken up the hare’s-foot and +was lightly manipulating it. All her attention was concentrated on this action, +and she bent forward over her toilet table so very far that the white round +contour of her drawers and the little patch of chemise stood out with the +unwonted tension. But she was anxious to prove that she appreciated the old +man’s compliment and therefore made a little swinging movement with her +hips. +</p> + +<p> +Silence reigned. Mme Jules had noticed a tear in the right leg of her drawers. +She took a pin from over her heart and for a second or so knelt on the ground, +busily at work about Nana’s leg, while the young woman, without seeming +to notice her presence, applied the rice powder, taking extreme pains as she +did so, to avoid putting any on the upper part of her cheeks. But when the +prince remarked that if she were to come and sing in London all England would +want to applaud her, she laughed amiably and turned round for a moment with her +left cheek looking very white amid a perfect cloud of powder. Then she became +suddenly serious, for she had come to the operation of rouging. And with her +face once more close to the mirror, she dipped her finger in a jar and began +applying the rouge below her eyes and gently spreading it back toward her +temples. The gentlemen maintained a respectful silence. +</p> + +<p> +Count Muffat, indeed, had not yet opened his lips. He was thinking perforce of +his own youth. The bedroom of his childish days had been quite cold, and later, +when he had reached the age of sixteen and would give his mother a good-night +kiss every evening, he used to carry the icy feeling of the embrace into the +world of dreams. One day in passing a half-open door he had caught sight of a +maidservant washing herself, and that was the solitary recollection which had +in any way troubled his peace of mind from the days of puberty till the time of +marriage. Afterward he had found his wife strictly obedient to her conjugal +duties but had himself felt a species of religious dislike to them. He had +grown to man’s estate and was now aging, in ignorance of the flesh, in +the humble observance of rigid devotional practices and in obedience to a rule +of life full of precepts and moral laws. And now suddenly he was dropped down +in this actress’s dressing room in the presence of this undraped +courtesan. +</p> + +<p> +He, who had never seen the Countess Muffat putting on her garters, was +witnessing, amid that wild disarray of jars and basins and that strong, sweet +perfume, the intimate details of a woman’s toilet. His whole being was in +turmoil; he was terrified by the stealthy, all-pervading influence which for +some time past Nana’s presence had been exercising over him, and he +recalled to mind the pious accounts of diabolic possession which had amused his +early years. He was a believer in the devil, and, in a confused kind of way, +Nana was he, with her laughter and her bosom and her hips, which seemed swollen +with many vices. But he promised himself that he would be strong—nay, he +would know how to defend himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Well then, it’s agreed,” said the prince, lounging quite +comfortably on the divan. “You will come to London next year, and we +shall receive you so cordially that you will never return to France again. Ah, +my dear Count, you don’t value your pretty women enough. We shall take +them all from you!” +</p> + +<p> +“That won’t make much odds to him,” murmured the Marquis de +Chouard wickedly, for he occasionally said a risky thing among friends. +“The count is virtue itself.” +</p> + +<p> +Hearing his virtue mentioned, Nana looked at him so comically that Muffat felt +a keen twinge of annoyance. But directly afterward he was surprised and angry +with himself. Why, in the presence of this courtesan, should the idea of being +virtuous embarrass him? He could have struck her. But in attempting to take up +a brush Nana had just let it drop on the ground, and as she stooped to pick it +up he rushed forward. Their breath mingled for one moment, and the loosened +tresses of Venus flowed over his hands. But remorse mingled with his enjoyment, +a kind of enjoyment, moreover, peculiar to good Catholics, whom the fear of +hell torments in the midst of their sin. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Father Barillot’s voice was heard outside the door. +</p> + +<p> +“May I give the knocks, madame? The house is growing impatient.” +</p> + +<p> +“All in good time,” answered Nana quietly. +</p> + +<p> +She had dipped her paint brush in a pot of kohl, and with the point of her nose +close to the glass and her left eye closed she passed it delicately along +between her eyelashes. Muffat stood behind her, looking on. He saw her +reflection in the mirror, with her rounded shoulders and her bosom half hidden +by a rosy shadow. And despite all his endeavors he could not turn away his gaze +from that face so merry with dimples and so worn with desire, which the closed +eye rendered more seductive. When she shut her right eye and passed the brush +along it he understood that he belonged to her. +</p> + +<p> +“They are stamping their feet, madame,” the callboy once more +cried. “They’ll end by smashing the seats. May I give the +knocks?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, bother!” said Nana impatiently. “Knock away; I +don’t care! If I’m not ready, well, they’ll have to wait for +me!” +</p> + +<p> +She grew calm again and, turning to the gentlemen, added with a smile: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s true: we’ve only got a minute left for our talk.” +</p> + +<p> +Her face and arms were now finished, and with her fingers she put two large +dabs of carmine on her lips. Count Muffat felt more excited than ever. He was +ravished by the perverse transformation wrought by powders and paints and +filled by a lawless yearning for those young painted charms, for the too-red +mouth and the too-white face and the exaggerated eyes, ringed round with black +and burning and dying for very love. Meanwhile Nana went behind the curtain for +a second or two in order to take off her drawers and slip on Venus’ +tights. After which, with tranquil immodesty, she came out and undid her little +linen stays and held out her arms to Mme Jules, who drew the short-sleeved +tunic over them. +</p> + +<p> +“Make haste; they’re growing angry!” she muttered. +</p> + +<p> +The prince with half-closed eyes marked the swelling lines of her bosom with an +air of connoisseurship, while the Marquis de Chouard wagged his head +involuntarily. Muffat gazed at the carpet in order not to see any more. At +length Venus, with only her gauze veil over her shoulders, was ready to go on +the stage. Mme Jules, with vacant, unconcerned eyes and an expression +suggestive of a little elderly wooden doll, still kept circling round her. With +brisk movements she took pins out of the inexhaustible pincushion over her +heart and pinned up Venus’ tunic, but as she ran over all those plump +nude charms with her shriveled hands, nothing was suggested to her. She was as +one whom her sex does not concern. +</p> + +<p> +“There!” said the young woman, taking a final look at herself in +the mirror. +</p> + +<p> +Bordenave was back again. He was anxious and said the third act had begun. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well! I’m coming,” replied Nana. “Here’s a +pretty fuss! Why, it’s usually I that waits for the others.” +</p> + +<p> +The gentlemen left the dressing room, but they did not say good-by, for the +prince had expressed a desire to assist behind the scenes at the performance of +the third act. Left alone, Nana seemed greatly surprised and looked round her +in all directions. +</p> + +<p> +“Where can she be?” she queried. +</p> + +<p> +She was searching for Satin. When she had found her again, waiting on her trunk +behind the curtain, Satin quietly replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly I didn’t want to be in your way with all those men +there!” +</p> + +<p> +And she added further that she was going now. But Nana held her back. What a +silly girl she was! Now that Bordenave had agreed to take her on! Why, the +bargain was to be struck after the play was over! Satin hesitated. There were +too many bothers; she was out of her element! Nevertheless, she stayed. +</p> + +<p> +As the prince was coming down the little wooden staircase a strange sound of +smothered oaths and stamping, scuffling feet became audible on the other side +of the theater. The actors waiting for their cues were being scared by quite a +serious episode. For some seconds past Mignon had been renewing his jokes and +smothering Fauchery with caresses. He had at last invented a little game of a +novel kind and had begun flicking the other’s nose in order, as he +phrased it, to keep the flies off him. This kind of game naturally diverted the +actors to any extent. +</p> + +<p> +But success had suddenly thrown Mignon off his balance. He had launched forth +into extravagant courses and had given the journalist a box on the ear, an +actual, a vigorous, box on the ear. This time he had gone too far: in the +presence of so many spectators it was impossible for Fauchery to pocket such a +blow with laughing equanimity. Whereupon the two men had desisted from their +farce, had sprung at one another’s throats, their faces livid with hate, +and were now rolling over and over behind a set of side lights, pounding away +at each other as though they weren’t breakable. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Bordenave, Monsieur Bordenave!” said the stage manager, +coming up in a terrible flutter. +</p> + +<p> +Bordenave made his excuses to the prince and followed him. When he recognized +Fauchery and Mignon in the men on the floor he gave vent to an expression of +annoyance. They had chosen a nice time, certainly, with His Highness on the +other side of the scenery and all that houseful of people who might have +overheard the row! To make matters worse, Rose Mignon arrived out of breath at +the very moment she was due on the stage. Vulcan, indeed, was giving her the +cue, but Rose stood rooted to the ground, marveling at sight of her husband and +her lover as they lay wallowing at her feet, strangling one another, kicking, +tearing their hair out and whitening their coats with dust. They barred the +way. A sceneshifter had even stopped Fauchery’s hat just when the +devilish thing was going to bound onto the stage in the middle of the struggle. +Meanwhile Vulcan, who had been gagging away to amuse the audience, gave Rose +her cue a second time. But she stood motionless, still gazing at the two men. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t look at THEM!” Bordenave furiously whispered to +her. “Go on the stage; go on, do! It’s no business of yours! Why, +you’re missing your cue!” +</p> + +<p> +And with a push from the manager, Rose stepped over the prostrate bodies and +found herself in the flare of the footlights and in the presence of the +audience. She had quite failed to understand why they were fighting on the +floor behind her. Trembling from head to foot and with a humming in her ears, +she came down to the footlights, Diana’s sweet, amorous smile on her +lips, and attacked the opening lines of her duet with so feeling a voice that +the public gave her a veritable ovation. +</p> + +<p> +Behind the scenery she could hear the dull thuds caused by the two men. They +had rolled down to the wings, but fortunately the music covered the noise made +by their feet as they kicked against them. +</p> + +<p> +“By God!” yelled Bordenave in exasperation when at last he had +succeeded in separating them. “Why couldn’t you fight at home? You +know as well as I do that I don’t like this sort of thing. You, Mignon, +you’ll do me the pleasure of staying over here on the prompt side, and +you, Fauchery, if you leave the O.P. side I’ll chuck you out of the +theater. You understand, eh? Prompt side and O.P. side or I forbid Rose to +bring you here at all.” +</p> + +<p> +When he returned to the prince’s presence the latter asked what was the +matter. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nothing at all,” he murmured quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Nana was standing wrapped in furs, talking to these gentlemen while awaiting +her cue. As Count Muffat was coming up in order to peep between two of the +wings at the stage, he understood from a sign made him by the stage manager +that he was to step softly. Drowsy warmth was streaming down from the flies, +and in the wings, which were lit by vivid patches of light, only a few people +remained, talking in low voices or making off on tiptoe. The gasman was at his +post amid an intricate arrangement of cocks; a fireman, leaning against the +side lights, was craning forward, trying to catch a glimpse of things, while on +his seat, high up, the curtain man was watching with resigned expression, +careless of the play, constantly on the alert for the bell to ring him to his +duty among the ropes. And amid the close air and the shuffling of feet and the +sound of whispering, the voices of the actors on the stage sounded strange, +deadened, surprisingly discordant. Farther off again, above the confused noises +of the band, a vast breathing sound was audible. It was the breath of the +house, which sometimes swelled up till it burst in vague rumors, in laughter, +in applause. Though invisible, the presence of the public could be felt, even +in the silences. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s something open,” said Nana sharply, and with that +she tightened the folds of her fur cloak. “Do look, Barillot. I bet +they’ve just opened a window. Why, one might catch one’s death of +cold here!” +</p> + +<p> +Barillot swore that he had closed every window himself but suggested that +possibly there were broken panes about. The actors were always complaining of +drafts. Through the heavy warmth of that gaslit region blasts of cold air were +constantly passing—it was a regular influenza trap, as Fontan phrased it. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to see YOU in a low-cut dress,” continued Nana, +growing annoyed. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” murmured Bordenave. +</p> + +<p> +On the stage Rose rendered a phrase in her duet so cleverly that the stalls +burst into universal applause. Nana was silent at this, and her face grew +grave. Meanwhile the count was venturing down a passage when Barillot stopped +him and said he would make a discovery there. Indeed, he obtained an oblique +back view of the scenery and of the wings which had been strengthened, as it +were, by a thick layer of old posters. Then he caught sight of a corner of the +stage, of the Etna cave hollowed out in a silver mine and of Vulcan’s +forge in the background. Battens, lowered from above, lit up a sparkling +substance which had been laid on with large dabs of the brush. Side lights with +red glasses and blue were so placed as to produce the appearance of a fiery +brazier, while on the floor of the stage, in the far background, long lines of +gaslight had been laid down in order to throw a wall of dark rocks into sharp +relief. Hard by on a gentle, “practicable” incline, amid little +points of light resembling the illumination lamps scattered about in the grass +on the night of a public holiday, old Mme Drouard, who played Juno, was sitting +dazed and sleepy, waiting for her cue. +</p> + +<p> +Presently there was a commotion, for Simonne, while listening to a story +Clarisse was telling her, cried out: +</p> + +<p> +“My! It’s the Tricon!” +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed the Tricon, wearing the same old curls and looking as like a +litigious great lady as ever. +</p> + +<p> +When she saw Nana she went straight up to her. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the latter after some rapid phrases had been exchanged, +“not now.” The old lady looked grave. Just then Prullière passed by +and shook hands with her, while two little chorus girls stood gazing at her +with looks of deep emotion. For a moment she seemed to hesitate. Then she +beckoned to Simonne, and the rapid exchange of sentences began again. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Simonne at last. “In half an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +But as she was going upstairs again to her dressing room, Mme Bron, who was +once more going the rounds with letters, presented one to her. Bordenave +lowered his voice and furiously reproached the portress for having allowed the +Tricon to come in. That woman! And on such an evening of all others! It made +him so angry because His Highness was there! Mme Bron, who had been thirty +years in the theater, replied quite sourly. How was she to know? she asked. The +Tricon did business with all the ladies—M. le Directeur had met her a +score of times without making remarks. And while Bordenave was muttering oaths +the Tricon stood quietly by, scrutinizing the prince as became a woman who +weighs a man at a glance. A smile lit up her yellow face. Presently she paced +slowly off through the crowd of deeply deferential little women. +</p> + +<p> +“Immediately, eh?” she queried, turning round again to Simonne. +</p> + +<p> +Simonne seemed much worried. The letter was from a young man to whom she had +engaged herself for that evening. She gave Mme Bron a scribbled note in which +were the words, “Impossible tonight, darling—I’m +booked.” But she was still apprehensive; the young man might possibly +wait for her in spite of everything. As she was not playing in the third act, +she had a mind to be off at once and accordingly begged Clarisse to go and see +if the man were there. Clarisse was only due on the stage toward the end of the +act, and so she went downstairs while Simonne ran up for a minute to their +common dressing room. +</p> + +<p> +In Mme Bron’s drinking bar downstairs a super, who was charged with the +part of Pluto, was drinking in solitude amid the folds of a great red robe +diapered with golden flames. The little business plied by the good portress +must have been progressing finely, for the cellarlike hole under the stairs was +wet with emptied heeltaps and water. Clarisse picked up the tunic of Iris, +which was dragging over the greasy steps behind her, but she halted prudently +at the turn in the stairs and was content simply to crane forward and peer into +the lodge. She certainly had been quick to scent things out! Just fancy! That +idiot La Faloise was still there, sitting on the same old chair between the +table and the stove! He had made pretense of sneaking off in front of Simonne +and had returned after her departure. For the matter of that, the lodge was +still full of gentlemen who sat there gloved, elegant, submissive and patient +as ever. They were all waiting and viewing each other gravely as they waited. +On the table there were now only some dirty plates, Mme Bron having recently +distributed the last of the bouquets. A single fallen rose was withering on the +floor in the neighborhood of the black cat, who had lain down and curled +herself up while the kittens ran wild races and danced fierce gallops among the +gentlemen’s legs. Clarisse was momentarily inclined to turn La Faloise +out. The idiot wasn’t fond of animals, and that put the finishing touch +to him! He was busy drawing in his legs because the cat was there, and he +didn’t want to touch her. +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll nip you; take care!” said Pluto, who was a joker, as +he went upstairs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. +</p> + +<p> +After that Clarisse gave up the idea of hauling La Faloise over the coals. She +had seen Mme Bron giving the letter to Simonne’s young man, and he had +gone out to read it under the gas light in the lobby. “Impossible +tonight, darling—I’m booked.” And with that he had peaceably +departed, as one who was doubtless used to the formula. He, at any rate, knew +how to conduct himself! Not so the others, the fellows who sat there doggedly +on Mme Bron’s battered straw-bottomed chairs under the great glazed +lantern, where the heat was enough to roast you and there was an unpleasant +odor. What a lot of men it must have held! Clarisse went upstairs again in +disgust, crossed over behind scenes and nimbly mounted three flights of steps +which led to the dressing rooms, in order to bring Simonne her reply. +</p> + +<p> +Downstairs the prince had withdrawn from the rest and stood talking to Nana. He +never left her; he stood brooding over her through half-shut eyelids. Nana did +not look at him but, smiling, nodded yes. Suddenly, however, Count Muffat +obeyed an overmastering impulse, and leaving Bordenave, who was explaining to +him the working of the rollers and windlasses, he came up in order to interrupt +their confabulations. Nana lifted her eyes and smiled at him as she smiled at +His Highness. But she kept her ears open notwithstanding, for she was waiting +for her cue. +</p> + +<p> +“The third act is the shortest, I believe,” the prince began +saying, for the count’s presence embarrassed him. +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer; her whole expression altered; she was suddenly intent on +her business. With a rapid movement of the shoulders she had let her furs slip +from her, and Mme Jules, standing behind, had caught them in her arms. And then +after passing her two hands to her hair as though to make it fast, she went on +the stage in all her nudity. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush, hush!” whispered Bordenave. +</p> + +<p> +The count and the prince had been taken by surprise. There was profound +silence, and then a deep sigh and the far-off murmur of a multitude became +audible. Every evening when Venus entered in her godlike nakedness the same +effect was produced. Then Muffat was seized with a desire to see; he put his +eye to the peephole. Above and beyond the glowing arc formed by the footlights +the dark body of the house seemed full of ruddy vapor, and against this +neutral-tinted background, where row upon row of faces struck a pale, uncertain +note, Nana stood forth white and vast, so that the boxes from the balcony to +the flies were blotted from view. He saw her from behind, noted her swelling +hips, her outstretched arms, while down on the floor, on the same level as her +feet, the prompter’s head—an old man’s head with a humble, +honest face—stood on the edge of the stage, looking as though it had been +severed from the body. At certain points in her opening number an undulating +movement seemed to run from her neck to her waist and to die out in the +trailing border of her tunic. When amid a tempest of applause she had sung her +last note she bowed, and the gauze floated forth round about her limbs, and her +hair swept over her waist as she bent sharply backward. And seeing her thus, as +with bending form and with exaggerated hips she came backing toward the +count’s peephole, he stood upright again, and his face was very white. +The stage had disappeared, and he now saw only the reverse side of the scenery +with its display of old posters pasted up in every direction. On the +practicable slope, among the lines of gas jets, the whole of Olympus had +rejoined the dozing Mme Drouard. They were waiting for the close of the act. +Bosc and Fontan sat on the floor with their knees drawn up to their chins, and +Prullière stretched himself and yawned before going on. Everybody was worn out; +their eyes were red, and they were longing to go home to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Just then Fauchery, who had been prowling about on the O.P. side ever since +Bordenave had forbidden him the other, came and buttonholed the count in order +to keep himself in countenance and offered at the same time to show him the +dressing rooms. An increasing sense of languor had left Muffat without any +power of resistance, and after looking round for the Marquis de Chouard, who +had disappeared, he ended by following the journalist. He experienced a mingled +feeling of relief and anxiety as he left the wings whence he had been listening +to Nana’s songs. +</p> + +<p> +Fauchery had already preceded him up the staircase, which was closed on the +first and second floors by low-paneled doors. It was one of those stairways +which you find in miserable tenements. Count Muffat had seen many such during +his rounds as member of the Benevolent Organization. It was bare and +dilapidated: there was a wash of yellow paint on its walls; its steps had been +worn by the incessant passage of feet, and its iron balustrade had grown smooth +under the friction of many hands. On a level with the floor on every stairhead +there was a low window which resembled a deep, square venthole, while in +lanterns fastened to the walls flaring gas jets crudely illuminated the +surrounding squalor and gave out a glowing heat which, as it mounted up the +narrow stairwell, grew ever more intense. +</p> + +<p> +When he reached the foot of the stairs the count once more felt the hot breath +upon his neck and shoulders. As of old it was laden with the odor of women, +wafted amid floods of light and sound from the dressing rooms above, and now +with every upward step he took the musky scent of powders and the tart perfume +of toilet vinegars heated and bewildered him more and more. On the first floor +two corridors ran backward, branching sharply off and presenting a set of doors +to view which were painted yellow and numbered with great white numerals in +such a way as to suggest a hotel with a bad reputation. The tiles on the floor +had been many of them unbedded, and the old house being in a state of +subsidence, they stuck up like hummocks. The count dashed recklessly forward, +glanced through a half-open door and saw a very dirty room which resembled a +barber’s shop in a poor part of the town. In was furnished with two +chairs, a mirror and a small table containing a drawer which had been blackened +by the grease from brushes and combs. A great perspiring fellow with smoking +shoulders was changing his linen there, while in a similar room next door a +woman was drawing on her gloves preparatory to departure. Her hair was damp and +out of curl, as though she had just had a bath. But Fauchery began calling the +count, and the latter was rushing up without delay when a furious +“damn!” burst from the corridor on the right. Mathilde, a little +drab of a miss, had just broken her washhand basin, the soapy water from which +was flowing out to the stairhead. A dressing room door banged noisily. Two +women in their stays skipped across the passage, and another, with the hem of +her shift in her mouth, appeared and immediately vanished from view. Then +followed a sound of laughter, a dispute, the snatch of a song which was +suddenly broken off short. All along the passage naked gleams, sudden visions +of white skin and wan underlinen were observable through chinks in doorways. +Two girls were making very merry, showing each other their birthmarks. One of +them, a very young girl, almost a child, had drawn her skirts up over her knees +in order to sew up a rent in her drawers, and the dressers, catching sight of +the two men, drew some curtains half to for decency’s sake. The wild +stampede which follows the end of a play had already begun, the grand removal +of white paint and rouge, the reassumption amid clouds of rice powder of +ordinary attire. The strange animal scent came in whiffs of redoubled intensity +through the lines of banging doors. On the third story Muffat abandoned himself +to the feeling of intoxication which was overpowering him. For the chorus +girls’ dressing room was there, and you saw a crowd of twenty women and a +wild display of soaps and flasks of lavender water. The place resembled the +common room in a slum lodging house. As he passed by he heard fierce sounds of +washing behind a closed door and a perfect storm raging in a washhand basin. +And as he was mounting up to the topmost story of all, curiosity led him to +risk one more little peep through an open loophole. The room was empty, and +under the flare of the gas a solitary chamber pot stood forgotten among a heap +of petticoats trailing on the floor. This room afforded him his ultimate +impression. Upstairs on the fourth floor he was well-nigh suffocated. All the +scents, all the blasts of heat, had found their goal there. The yellow ceiling +looked as if it had been baked, and a lamp burned amid fumes of russet-colored +fog. For some seconds he leaned upon the iron balustrade which felt warm and +damp and well-nigh human to the touch. And he shut his eyes and drew a long +breath and drank in the sexual atmosphere of the place. Hitherto he had been +utterly ignorant of it, but now it beat full in his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Do come here,” shouted Fauchery, who had vanished some moments +ago. “You’re being asked for.” +</p> + +<p> +At the end of the corridor was the dressing room belonging to Clarisse and +Simonne. It was a long, ill-built room under the roof with a garret ceiling and +sloping walls. The light penetrated to it from two deep-set openings high up in +the wall, but at that hour of the night the dressing room was lit by flaring +gas. It was papered with a paper at seven sous a roll with a pattern of roses +twining over green trelliswork. Two boards, placed near one another and covered +with oilcloth, did duty for dressing tables. They were black with spilled +water, and underneath them was a fine medley of dinted zinc jugs, slop pails +and coarse yellow earthenware crocks. There was an array of fancy articles in +the room—a battered, soiled and well-worn array of chipped basins, of +toothless combs, of all those manifold untidy trifles which, in their hurry and +carelessness, two women will leave scattered about when they undress and wash +together amid purely temporary surroundings, the dirty aspect of which has +ceased to concern them. +</p> + +<p> +“Do come here,” Fauchery repeated with the good-humored familiarity +which men adopt among their fallen sisters. “Clarisse is wanting to kiss +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Muffat entered the room at last. But what was his surprise when he found the +Marquis de Chouard snugly enscounced on a chair between the two dressing +tables! The marquis had withdrawn thither some time ago. He was spreading his +feet apart because a pail was leaking and letting a whitish flood spread over +the floor. He was visibly much at his ease, as became a man who knew all the +snug corners, and had grown quite merry in the close dressing room, where +people might have been bathing, and amid those quietly immodest feminine +surroundings which the uncleanness of the little place rendered at once natural +and poignant. +</p> + +<p> +“D’you go with the old boy?” Simonne asked Clarisse in a +whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“Rather!” replied the latter aloud. +</p> + +<p> +The dresser, a very ugly and extremely familiar young girl, who was helping +Simonne into her coat, positively writhed with laughter. The three pushed each +other and babbled little phrases which redoubled their merriment. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Clarisse, kiss the gentleman,” said Fauchery. “You +know, he’s got the rhino.” +</p> + +<p> +And turning to the count: +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll see, she’s very nice! She’s going to kiss +you!” +</p> + +<p> +But Clarisse was disgusted by the men. She spoke in violent terms of the dirty +lot waiting at the porter’s lodge down below. Besides, she was in a hurry +to go downstairs again; they were making her miss her last scene. Then as +Fauchery blocked up the doorway, she gave Muffat a couple of kisses on the +whiskers, remarking as she did so: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not for you, at any rate! It’s for that nuisance +Fauchery!” +</p> + +<p> +And with that she darted off, and the count remained much embarrassed in his +father-in-law’s presence. The blood had rushed to his face. In +Nana’s dressing room, amid all the luxury of hangings and mirrors, he had +not experienced the sharp physical sensation which the shameful wretchedness of +that sorry garret excited within him, redolent as it was of these two +girls’ self-abandonment. Meanwhile the marquis had hurried in the rear of +Simonne, who was making off at the top of her pace, and he kept whispering in +her ear while she shook her head in token of refusal. Fauchery followed them, +laughing. And with that the count found himself alone with the dresser, who was +washing out the basins. Accordingly he took his departure, too, his legs almost +failing under him. Once more he put up flights of half-dressed women and caused +doors to bang as he advanced. But amid the disorderly, disbanded troops of +girls to be found on each of the four stories, he was only distinctly aware of +a cat, a great tortoise-shell cat, which went gliding upstairs through the +ovenlike place where the air was poisoned with musk, rubbing its back against +the banisters and keeping its tail exceedingly erect. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, to be sure!” said a woman hoarsely. “I thought +they’d keep us back tonight! What a nuisance they are with their +calls!” +</p> + +<p> +The end had come; the curtain had just fallen. There was a veritable stampede +on the staircase—its walls rang with exclamations, and everyone was in a +savage hurry to dress and be off. As Count Muffat came down the last step or +two he saw Nana and the prince passing slowly along the passage. The young +woman halted and lowered her voice as she said with a smile: +</p> + +<p> +“All right then—by and by!” +</p> + +<p> +The prince returned to the stage, where Bordenave was awaiting him. And left +alone with Nana, Muffat gave way to an impulse of anger and desire. He ran up +behind her and, as she was on the point of entering her dressing room, +imprinted a rough kiss on her neck among little golden hairs curling low down +between her shoulders. It was as though he had returned the kiss that had been +given him upstairs. Nana was in a fury; she lifted her hand, but when she +recognized the count she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you frightened me,” she said simply. +</p> + +<p> +And her smile was adorable in its embarrassment and submissiveness, as though +she had despaired of this kiss and were happy to have received it. But she +could do nothing for him either that evening or the day after. It was a case of +waiting. Nay, even if it had been in her power she would still have let herself +be desired. Her glance said as much. At length she continued: +</p> + +<p> +“I’m a landowner, you know. Yes, I’m buying a country house +near Orleans, in a part of the world to which you sometimes betake yourself. +Baby told me you did—little Georges Hugon, I mean. You know him? So come +and see me down there.” +</p> + +<p> +The count was a shy man, and the thought of his roughness had frightened him; +he was ashamed of what he had done and he bowed ceremoniously, promising at the +same time to take advantage of her invitation. Then he walked off as one who +dreams. +</p> + +<p> +He was rejoining the prince when, passing in front of the foyer, he heard Satin +screaming out: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the dirty old thing! Just you bloody well leave me alone!” +</p> + +<p> +It was the Marquis de Chouard who was tumbling down over Satin. The girl had +decidedly had enough of the fashionable world! Nana had certainly introduced +her to Bordenave, but the necessity of standing with sealed lips for fear of +allowing some awkward phrase to escape her had been too much for her feelings, +and now she was anxious to regain her freedom, the more so as she had run +against an old flame of hers in the wings. This was the super, to whom the task +of impersonating Pluto had been entrusted, a pastry cook, who had already +treated her to a whole week of love and flagellation. She was waiting for him, +much irritated at the things the marquis was saying to her, as though she were +one of those theatrical ladies! And so at last she assumed a highly respectable +expression and jerked out this phrase: +</p> + +<p> +“My husband’s coming! You’ll see.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the worn-looking artistes were dropping off one after the other in +their outdoor coats. Groups of men and women were coming down the little +winding staircase, and the outlines of battered hats and worn-out shawls were +visible in the shadows. They looked colorless and unlovely, as became poor play +actors who have got rid of their paint. On the stage, where the side lights and +battens were being extinguished, the prince was listening to an anecdote +Bordenave was telling him. He was waiting for Nana, and when at length she made +her appearance the stage was dark, and the fireman on duty was finishing his +round, lantern in hand. Bordenave, in order to save His Highness going about by +the Passage des Panoramas, had made them open the corridor which led from the +porter’s lodge to the entrance hall of the theater. Along this narrow +alley little women were racing pell-mell, for they were delighted to escape +from the men who were waiting for them in the other passage. They went jostling +and elbowing along, casting apprehensive glances behind them and only breathing +freely when they got outside. Fontan, Bosc and Prullière, on the other hand, +retired at a leisurely pace, joking at the figure cut by the serious, paying +admirers who were striding up and down the Galerie des Variétés at a time when +the little dears were escaping along the boulevard with the men of their +hearts. But Clarisse was especially sly. She had her suspicions about La +Faloise, and, as a matter of fact, he was still in his place in the lodge among +the gentlemen obstinately waiting on Mme Bron’s chairs. They all +stretched forward, and with that she passed brazenly by in the wake of a +friend. The gentlemen were blinking in bewilderment over the wild whirl of +petticoats eddying at the foot of the narrow stairs. It made them desperate to +think they had waited so long, only to see them all flying away like this +without being able to recognize a single one. The litter of little black cats +were sleeping on the oilcloth, nestled against their mother’s belly, and +the latter was stretching her paws out in a state of beatitude while the big +tortoise-shell cat sat at the other end of the table, her tail stretched out +behind her and her yellow eyes solemnly following the flight of the women. +</p> + +<p> +“If His Highness will be good enough to come this way,” said +Bordenave at the bottom of the stairs, and he pointed to the passage. +</p> + +<p> +Some chorus girls were still crowding along it. The prince began following Nana +while Muffat and the marquis walked behind. +</p> + +<p> +It was a long, narrow passage lying between the theater and the house next +door, a kind of contracted by-lane which had been covered with a sloping glass +roof. Damp oozed from the walls, and the footfall sounded as hollow on the +tiled floor as in an underground vault. It was crowded with the kind of rubbish +usually found in a garret. There was a workbench on which the porter was wont +to plane such parts of the scenery as required it, besides a pile of wooden +barriers which at night were placed at the doors of the theater for the purpose +of regulating the incoming stream of people. Nana had to pick up her dress as +she passed a hydrant which, through having been carelessly turned off, was +flooding the tiles underfoot. In the entrance hall the company bowed and said +good-by. And when Bordenave was alone he summed up his opinion of the prince in +a shrug of eminently philosophic disdain. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a bit of a duffer all the same,” he said to Fauchery +without entering on further explanations, and with that Rose Mignon carried the +journalist off with her husband in order to effect a reconciliation between +them at home. +</p> + +<p> +Muffat was left alone on the sidewalk. His Highness had handed Nana quietly +into his carriage, and the marquis had slipped off after Satin and her super. +In his excitement he was content to follow this vicious pair in vague hopes of +some stray favor being granted him. Then with brain on fire Muffat decided to +walk home. The struggle within him had wholly ceased. The ideas and beliefs of +the last forty years were being drowned in a flood of new life. While he was +passing along the boulevards the roll of the last carriages deafened him with +the name of Nana; the gaslights set nude limbs dancing before his +eyes—the nude limbs, the lithe arms, the white shoulders, of Nana. And he +felt that he was hers utterly: he would have abjured everything, sold +everything, to possess her for a single hour that very night. Youth, a lustful +puberty of early manhood, was stirring within him at last, flaming up suddenly +in the chaste heart of the Catholic and amid the dignified traditions of middle +age. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"></a> CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p> +Count Muffat, accompanied by his wife and daughter, had arrived overnight at +Les Fondettes, where Mme Hugon, who was staying there with only her son +Georges, had invited them to come and spend a week. The house, which had been +built at the end of the eighteenth century, stood in the middle of a huge +square enclosure. It was perfectly unadorned, but the garden possessed +magnificent shady trees and a chain of tanks fed by running spring water. It +stood at the side of the road which leads from Orleans to Paris and with its +rich verdure and high-embowered trees broke the monotony of that flat +countryside, where fields stretched to the horizon’s verge. +</p> + +<p> +At eleven o’clock, when the second lunch bell had called the whole +household together, Mme Hugon, smiling in her kindly maternal way, gave Sabine +two great kisses, one on each cheek, and said as she did so: +</p> + +<p> +“You know it’s my custom in the country. Oh, seeing you here makes +me feel twenty years younger. Did you sleep well in your old room?” +</p> + +<p> +Then without waiting for her reply she turned to Estelle: +</p> + +<p> +“And this little one, has she had a nap too? Give me a kiss, my +child.” +</p> + +<p> +They had taken their seats in the vast dining room, the windows of which looked +out on the park. But they only occupied one end of the long table, where they +sat somewhat crowded together for company’s sake. Sabine, in high good +spirits, dwelt on various childish memories which had been stirred up within +her—memories of months passed at Les Fondettes, of long walks, of a +tumble into one of the tanks on a summer evening, of an old romance of chivalry +discovered by her on the top of a cupboard and read during the winter before +fires made of vine branches. And Georges, who had not seen the countess for +some months, thought there was something curious about her. Her face seemed +changed, somehow, while, on the other hand, that stick of an Estelle seemed +more insignificant and dumb and awkward than ever. +</p> + +<p> +While such simple fare as cutlets and boiled eggs was being discussed by the +company, Mme Hugon, as became a good housekeeper, launched out into complaints. +The butchers, she said, were becoming impossible. She bought everything at +Orleans, and yet they never brought her the pieces she asked for. Yet, alas, if +her guests had nothing worth eating it was their own fault: they had come too +late in the season. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no sense in it,” she said. “I’ve been +expecting you since June, and now we’re half through September. You see, +it doesn’t look pretty.” +</p> + +<p> +And with a movement she pointed to the trees on the grass outside, the leaves +of which were beginning to turn yellow. The day was covered, and the distance +was hidden by a bluish haze which was fraught with a sweet and melancholy +peacefulness. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m expecting company,” she continued. “We shall +be gayer then! The first to come will be two gentlemen whom Georges has +invited—Monsieur Fauchery and Monsieur Daguenet; you know them, do you +not? Then we shall have Monsieur de Vandeuvres, who has promised me a visit +these five years past. This time, perhaps, he’ll make up his mind!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well and good!” said the countess, laughing. “If we only +can get Monsieur de Vandeuvres! But he’s too much engaged.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Philippe?” queried Muffat. +</p> + +<p> +“Philippe has asked for a furlough,” replied the old lady, +“but without doubt you won’t be at Les Fondettes any longer when he +arrives.” +</p> + +<p> +The coffee was served. Paris was now the subject of conversation, and +Steiner’s name was mentioned, at which Mme Hugon gave a little cry. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see,” she said; “Monsieur Steiner is that stout man I +met at your house one evening. He’s a banker, is he not? Now +there’s a detestable man for you! Why, he’s gone and bought an +actress an estate about a league from here, over Gumières way, beyond the +Choue. The whole countryside’s scandalized. Did you know about that, my +friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew nothing about it,” replied Muffat. “Ah, then, +Steiner’s bought a country place in the neighborhood!” +</p> + +<p> +Hearing his mother broach the subject, Georges looked into his coffee cup, but +in his astonishment at the count’s answer he glanced up at him and +stared. Why was he lying so glibly? The count, on his side, noticed the young +fellow’s movement and gave him a suspicious glance. Mme Hugon continued +to go into details: the country place was called La Mignotte. In order to get +there one had to go up the bank of the Choue as far as Gumières in order to +cross the bridge; otherwise one got one’s feet wet and ran the risk of a +ducking. +</p> + +<p> +“And what is the actress’s name?” asked the countess. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I wasn’t told,” murmured the old lady. “Georges, +you were there the morning the gardener spoke to us about it.” +</p> + +<p> +Georges appeared to rack his brains. Muffat waited, twirling a teaspoon between +his fingers. Then the countess addressed her husband: +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t Monsieur Steiner with that singer at the Variétés, that +Nana?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nana, that’s the name! A horrible woman!” cried Mme Hugon +with growing annoyance. “And they are expecting her at La Mignotte. +I’ve heard all about it from the gardener. Didn’t the gardener say +they were expecting her this evening, Georges?” +</p> + +<p> +The count gave a little start of astonishment, but Georges replied with much +vivacity: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Mother, the gardener spoke without knowing anything about it. +Directly afterward the coachman said just the opposite. Nobody’s expected +at La Mignotte before the day after tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +He tried hard to assume a natural expression while he slyly watched the effect +of his remarks on the count. The latter was twirling his spoon again as though +reassured. The countess, her eyes fixed dreamily on the blue distances of the +park, seemed to have lost all interest in the conversation. The shadow of a +smile on her lips, she seemed to be following up a secret thought which had +been suddenly awakened within her. Estelle, on the other hand, sitting stiffly +on her chair, had heard all that had been said about Nana, but her white, +virginal face had not betrayed a trace of emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, dear me! I’ve got no right to grow angry,” murmured +Mme Hugon after a pause, and with a return to her old good humor she added: +</p> + +<p> +“Everybody’s got a right to live. If we meet this said lady on the +road we shall not bow to her—that’s all!” +</p> + +<p> +And as they got up from table she once more gently upbraided the Countess +Sabine for having been so long in coming to her that year. But the countess +defended herself and threw the blame of the delays upon her husband’s +shoulders. Twice on the eve of departure, when all the trunks were locked, he +counterordered their journey on the plea of urgent business. Then he had +suddenly decided to start just when the trip seemed shelved. Thereupon the old +lady told them how Georges in the same way had twice announced his arrival +without arriving and had finally cropped up at Les Fondettes the day before +yesterday, when she was no longer expecting him. They had come down into the +garden, and the two men, walking beside the ladies, were listening to them in +consequential silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” said Mme Hugon, kissing her son’s sunny locks, +“Zizi is a very good boy to come and bury himself in the country with his +mother. He’s a dear Zizi not to forget me!” +</p> + +<p> +In the afternoon she expressed some anxiety, for Georges, directly after +leaving the table, had complained of a heavy feeling in his head and now seemed +in for an atrocious sick headache. Toward four o’clock he said he would +go upstairs to bed: it was the only remedy. After sleeping till tomorrow +morning he would be perfectly himself again. His mother was bent on putting him +to bed herself, but as she left the room he ran and locked the door, explaining +that he was shutting himself in so that no one should come and disturb him. +Then caressingly he shouted, “Good night till tomorrow, little +Mother!” and promised to take a nap. But he did not go to bed again and +with flushed cheeks and bright eyes noiselessly put on his clothes. Then he sat +on a chair and waited. When the dinner bell rang he listened for Count Muffat, +who was on his way to the dining room, and ten minutes later, when he was +certain that no one would see him, he slipped from the window to the ground +with the assistance of a rain pipe. His bedroom was situated on the first floor +and looked out upon the rear of the house. He threw himself among some bushes +and got out of the park and then galloped across the fields with empty stomach +and heart beating with excitement. Night was closing in, and a small fine rain +was beginning to fall. +</p> + +<p> +It was the very evening that Nana was due at La Mignotte. Ever since in the +preceding May Steiner had bought her this country place she had from time to +time been so filled with the desire of taking possession that she had wept hot +tears about, but on each of these occasions Bordenave had refused to give her +even the shortest leave and had deferred her holiday till September on the plea +that he did not intend putting an understudy in her place, even for one +evening, now that the exhibition was on. Toward the close of August he spoke of +October. Nana was furious and declared that she would be at La Mignotte in the +middle of September. Nay, in order to dare Bordenave, she even invited a crowd +of guests in his very presence. One afternoon in her rooms, as Muffat, whose +advances she still adroitly resisted, was beseeching her with tremulous emotion +to yield to his entreaties, she at length promised to be kind, but not in +Paris, and to him, too, she named the middle of September. Then on the twelfth +she was seized by a desire to be off forthwith with Zoé as her sole companion. +It might be that Bordenave had got wind of her intentions and was about to +discover some means of detaining her. She was delighted at the notion of +putting him in a fix, and she sent him a doctor’s certificate. When once +the idea had entered her head of being the first to get to La Mignotte and of +living there two days without anybody knowing anything about it, she rushed Zoé +through the operation of packing and finally pushed her into a cab, where in a +sudden burst of extreme contrition she kissed her and begged her pardon. It was +only when they got to the station refreshment room that she thought of writing +Steiner of her movements. She begged him to wait till the day after tomorrow +before rejoining her if he wanted to find her quite bright and fresh. And then, +suddenly conceiving another project, she wrote a second letter, in which she +besought her aunt to bring little Louis to her at once. It would do Baby so +much good! And how happy they would be together in the shade of the trees! In +the railway carriage between Paris and Orleans she spoke of nothing else; her +eyes were full of tears; she had an unexpected attack of maternal tenderness +and mingled together flowers, birds and child in her every sentence. +</p> + +<p> +La Mignotte was more than three leagues away from the station, and Nana lost a +good hour over the hire of a carriage, a huge, dilapidated calash, which +rumbled slowly along to an accompaniment of rattling old iron. She had at once +taken possession of the coachman, a little taciturn old man whom she +overwhelmed with questions. Had he often passed by La Mignotte? It was behind +this hill then? There ought to be lots of trees there, eh? And the house could +one see it at a distance? The little old man answered with a succession of +grunts. Down in the calash Nana was almost dancing with impatience, while Zoé, +in her annoyance at having left Paris in such a hurry, sat stiffly sulking +beside her. The horse suddenly stopped short, and the young woman thought they +had reached their destination. She put her head out of the carriage door and +asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Are we there, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +By way of answer the driver whipped up his horse, which was in the act of +painfully climbing a hill. Nana gazed ecstatically at the vast plain beneath +the gray sky where great clouds were banked up. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do look, Zoé! There’s greenery! Now, is that all wheat? Good +lord, how pretty it is!” +</p> + +<p> +“One can quite see that Madame doesn’t come from the +country,” was the servant’s prim and tardy rejoinder. “As for +me, I knew the country only too well when I was with my dentist. He had a house +at Bougival. No, it’s cold, too, this evening. It’s damp in these +parts.” +</p> + +<p> +They were driving under the shadow of a wood, and Nana sniffed up the scent of +the leaves as a young dog might. All of a sudden at a turn of the road she +caught sight of the corner of a house among the trees. Perhaps it was there! +And with that she began a conversation with the driver, who continued shaking +his head by way of saying no. Then as they drove down the other side of the +hill he contented himself by holding out his whip and muttering, +“’Tis down there.” +</p> + +<p> +She got up and stretched herself almost bodily out of the carriage door. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is it? Where is it?” she cried with pale cheeks, but as yet +she saw nothing. +</p> + +<p> +At last she caught sight of a bit of wall. And then followed a succession of +little cries and jumps, the ecstatic behavior of a woman overcome by a new and +vivid sensation. +</p> + +<p> +“I see it! I see it, Zoé! Look out at the other side. Oh, there’s a +terrace with brick ornaments on the roof! And there’s a hothouse down +there! But the place is immense. Oh, how happy I am! Do look, Zoé! Now, do +look!” +</p> + +<p> +The carriage had by this time pulled up before the park gates. A side door was +opened, and the gardener, a tall, dry fellow, made his appearance, cap in hand. +Nana made an effort to regain her dignity, for the driver seemed now to be +suppressing a laugh behind his dry, speechless lips. She refrained from setting +off at a run and listened to the gardener, who was a very talkative fellow. He +begged Madame to excuse the disorder in which she found everything, seeing that +he had only received Madame’s letter that very morning. But despite all +his efforts, she flew off at a tangent and walked so quickly that Zoé could +scarcely follow her. At the end of the avenue she paused for a moment in order +to take the house in at a glance. It was a great pavilion-like building in the +Italian manner, and it was flanked by a smaller construction, which a rich +Englishman, after two years’ residence in Naples, had caused to be +erected and had forthwith become disgusted with. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take Madame over the house,” said the gardener. +</p> + +<p> +But she had outrun him entirely, and she shouted back that he was not to put +himself out and that she would go over the house by herself. She preferred +doing that, she said. And without removing her hat she dashed into the +different rooms, calling to Zoé as she did so, shouting her impressions from +one end of each corridor to the other and filling the empty house, which for +long months had been uninhabited, with exclamations and bursts of laughter. In +the first place, there was the hall. It was a little damp, but that +didn’t matter; one wasn’t going to sleep in it. Then came the +drawing room, quite the thing, the drawing room, with its windows opening on +the lawn. Only the red upholsteries there were hideous; she would alter all +that. As to the dining room-well, it was a lovely dining room, eh? What big +blowouts you might give in Paris if you had a dining room as large as that! As +she was going upstairs to the first floor it occurred to her that she had not +seen the kitchen, and she went down again and indulged in ecstatic +exclamations. Zoé ought to admire the beautiful dimensions of the sink and the +width of the hearth, where you might have roasted a sheep! When she had gone +upstairs again her bedroom especially enchanted her. It had been hung with +delicate rose-colored Louis XVI cretonne by an Orleans upholsterer. Dear me, +yes! One ought to sleep jolly sound in such a room as that; why, it was a real +best bedroom! Then came four or five guest chambers and then some splendid +garrets, which would be extremely convenient for trunks and boxes. Zoé looked +very gruff and cast a frigid glance into each of the rooms as she lingered in +Madame’s wake. She saw Nana disappearing up the steep garret ladder and +said, “Thanks, I haven’t the least wish to break my legs.” +But the sound of a voice reached her from far away; indeed, it seemed to come +whistling down a chimney. +</p> + +<p> +“Zoé, Zoé, where are you? Come up, do! You’ve no idea! It’s +like fairyland!” +</p> + +<p> +Zoé went up, grumbling. On the roof she found her mistress leaning against the +brickwork balustrade and gazing at the valley which spread out into the +silence. The horizon was immeasurably wide, but it was now covered by masses of +gray vapor, and a fierce wind was driving fine rain before it. Nana had to hold +her hat on with both hands to keep it from being blown away while her +petticoats streamed out behind her, flapping like a flag. +</p> + +<p> +“Not if I know it!” said Zoé, drawing her head in at once. +“Madame will be blown away. What beastly weather!” +</p> + +<p> +Madame did not hear what she said. With her head over the balustrade she was +gazing at the grounds beneath. They consisted of seven or eight acres of land +enclosed within a wall. Then the view of the kitchen garden entirely engrossed +her attention. She darted back, jostling the lady’s maid at the top of +the stairs and bursting out: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s full of cabbages! Oh, such woppers! And lettuces and sorrel +and onions and everything! Come along, make haste!” +</p> + +<p> +The rain was falling more heavily now, and she opened her white silk sunshade +and ran down the garden walks. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame will catch cold,” cried Zoé, who had stayed quietly behind +under the awning over the garden door. +</p> + +<p> +But Madame wanted to see things, and at each new discovery there was a burst of +wonderment. +</p> + +<p> +“Zoé, here’s spinach! Do come. Oh, look at the artichokes! They are +funny. So they grow in the ground, do they? Now, what can that be? I +don’t know it. Do come, Zoé, perhaps you know.” +</p> + +<p> +The lady’s maid never budged an inch. Madame must really be raving mad. +For now the rain was coming down in torrents, and the little white silk +sunshade was already dark with it. Nor did it shelter Madame, whose skirts were +wringing wet. But that didn’t put her out in the smallest degree, and in +the pouring rain she visited the kitchen garden and the orchard, stopping in +front of every fruit tree and bending over every bed of vegetables. Then she +ran and looked down the well and lifted up a frame to see what was underneath +it and was lost in the contemplation of a huge pumpkin. She wanted to go along +every single garden walk and to take immediate possession of all the things she +had been wont to dream of in the old days, when she was a slipshod work-girl on +the Paris pavements. The rain redoubled, but she never heeded it and was only +miserable at the thought that the daylight was fading. She could not see +clearly now and touched things with her fingers to find out what they were. +Suddenly in the twilight she caught sight of a bed of strawberries, and all +that was childish in her awoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Strawberries! Strawberries! There are some here; I can feel them. A +plate, Zoé! Come and pick strawberries.” +</p> + +<p> +And dropping her sunshade, Nana crouched down in the mire under the full force +of the downpour. With drenched hands she began gathering the fruit among the +leaves. But Zoé in the meantime brought no plate, and when the young woman rose +to her feet again she was frightened. She thought she had seen a shadow close +to her. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s some beast!” she screamed. +</p> + +<p> +But she stood rooted to the path in utter amazement. It was a man, and she +recognized him. +</p> + +<p> +“Gracious me, it’s Baby! What ARE you doing there, baby?” +</p> + +<p> +“’Gad, I’ve come—that’s all!” replied +Georges. +</p> + +<p> +Her head swam. +</p> + +<p> +“You knew I’d come through the gardener telling you? Oh, that poor +child! Why, he’s soaking!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’ll explain that to you! The rain caught me on my way here, +and then, as I didn’t wish to go upstream as far as Gumières, I crossed +the Choue and fell into a blessed hole.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana forgot the strawberries forthwith. She was trembling and full of pity. +That poor dear Zizi in a hole full of water! And she drew him with her in the +direction of the house and spoke of making up a roaring fire. +</p> + +<p> +“You know,” he murmured, stopping her among the shadows, “I +was in hiding because I was afraid of being scolded, like in Paris, when I come +and see you and you’re not expecting me.” +</p> + +<p> +She made no reply but burst out laughing and gave him a kiss on the forehead. +Up till today she had always treated him like a naughty urchin, never taking +his declarations seriously and amusing herself at his expense as though he were +a little man of no consequence whatever. There was much ado to install him in +the house. She absolutely insisted on the fire being lit in her bedroom, as +being the most comfortable place for his reception. Georges had not surprised +Zoé, who was used to all kinds of encounters, but the gardener, who brought the +wood upstairs, was greatly nonplused at sight of this dripping gentleman to +whom he was certain he had not opened the front door. He was, however, +dismissed, as he was no longer wanted. +</p> + +<p> +A lamp lit up the room, and the fire burned with a great bright flame. +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll never get dry, and he’ll catch cold,” said Nana, +seeing Georges beginning to shiver. +</p> + +<p> +And there were no men’s trousers in her house! She was on the point of +calling the gardener back when an idea struck her. Zoé, who was unpacking the +trunks in the dressing room, brought her mistress a change of underwear, +consisting of a shift and some petticoats with a dressing jacket. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s first rate!” cried the young woman. “Zizi +can put ’em all on. You’re not angry with me, eh? When your clothes +are dry you can put them on again, and then off with you, as fast as fast can +be, so as not to have a scolding from your mamma. Make haste! I’m going +to change my things, too, in the dressing room.” +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes afterward, when she reappeared in a tea gown, she clasped her hands +in a perfect ecstasy. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the darling! How sweet he looks dressed like a little woman!” +</p> + +<p> +He had simply slipped on a long nightgown with an insertion front, a pair of +worked drawers and the dressing jacket, which was a long cambric garment +trimmed with lace. Thus attired and with his delicate young arms showing and +his bright damp hair falling almost to his shoulders, he looked just like a +girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, he’s as slim as I am!” said Nana, putting her arm round +his waist. “Zoé, just come here and see how it suits him. It’s made +for him, eh? All except the bodice part, which is too large. He hasn’t +got as much as I have, poor, dear Zizi!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, to be sure, I’m a bit wanting there,” murmured Georges +with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +All three grew very merry about it. Nana had set to work buttoning the dressing +jacket from top to bottom so as to make him quite decent. Then she turned him +round as though he were a doll, gave him little thumps, made the skirt stand +well out behind. After which she asked him questions. Was he comfortable? Did +he feel warm? Zounds, yes, he was comfortable! Nothing fitted more closely and +warmly than a woman’s shift; had he been able, he would always have worn +one. He moved round and about therein, delighted with the fine linen and the +soft touch of that unmanly garment, in the folds of which he thought he +discovered some of Nana’s own warm life. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Zoé had taken the soaked clothes down to the kitchen in order to dry +them as quickly as possible in front of a vine-branch fire. Then Georges, as he +lounged in an easy chair, ventured to make a confession. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, are you going to feed this evening? I’m dying of hunger. I +haven’t dined.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana was vexed. The great silly thing to go sloping off from Mamma’s with +an empty stomach, just to chuck himself into a hole full of water! But she was +as hungry as a hunter too. They certainly must feed! Only they would have to +eat what they could get. Whereupon a round table was rolled up in front of the +fire, and the queerest of dinners was improvised thereon. Zoé ran down to the +gardener’s, he having cooked a mess of cabbage soup in case Madame should +not dine at Orleans before her arrival. Madame, indeed, had forgotten to tell +him what he was to get ready in the letter she had sent him. Fortunately the +cellar was well furnished. Accordingly they had cabbage soup, followed by a +piece of bacon. Then Nana rummaged in her handbag and found quite a heap of +provisions which she had taken the precaution of stuffing into it. There was a +Strasbourg paté, for instance, and a bag of sweet-meats and some oranges. So +they both ate away like ogres and, while they satisfied their healthy young +appetites, treated one another with easy good fellowship. Nana kept calling +Georges “dear old girl,” a form of address which struck her as at +once tender and familiar. At dessert, in order not to give Zoé any more +trouble, they used the same spoon turn and turn about while demolishing a pot +of preserves they had discovered at the top of a cupboard. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you dear old girl!” said Nana, pushing back the round table. +“I haven’t made such a good dinner these ten years past!” +</p> + +<p> +Yet it was growing late, and she wanted to send her boy off for fear he should +be suspected of all sorts of things. But he kept declaring that he had plenty +of time to spare. For the matter of that, his clothes were not drying well, and +Zoé averred that it would take an hour longer at least, and as she was dropping +with sleep after the fatigues of the journey, they sent her off to bed. After +which they were alone in the silent house. +</p> + +<p> +It was a very charming evening. The fire was dying out amid glowing embers, and +in the great blue room, where Zoé had made up the bed before going upstairs, +the air felt a little oppressive. Nana, overcome by the heavy warmth, got up to +open the window for a few minutes, and as she did so she uttered a little cry. +</p> + +<p> +“Great heavens, how beautiful it is! Look, dear old girl!” +</p> + +<p> +Georges had come up, and as though the window bar had not been sufficiently +wide, he put his arm round Nana’s waist and rested his head against her +shoulder. The weather had undergone a brisk change: the skies were clearing, +and a full moon lit up the country with its golden disk of light. A sovereign +quiet reigned over the valley. It seemed wider and larger as it opened on the +immense distances of the plain, where the trees loomed like little shadowy +islands amid a shining and waveless lake. And Nana grew tenderhearted, felt +herself a child again. Most surely she had dreamed of nights like this at an +epoch which she could not recall. Since leaving the train every object of +sensation—the wide countryside, the green things with their pungent +scents, the house, the vegetables—had stirred her to such a degree that +now it seemed to her as if she had left Paris twenty years ago. +Yesterday’s existence was far, far away, and she was full of sensations +of which she had no previous experience. Georges, meanwhile, was giving her +neck little coaxing kisses, and this again added to her sweet unrest. With +hesitating hand she pushed him from her, as though he were a child whose +affectionate advances were fatiguing, and once more she told him that he ought +to take his departure. He did not gainsay her. All in good time—he would +go all in good time! +</p> + +<p> +But a bird raised its song and again was silent. It was a robin in an elder +tree below the window. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait one moment,” whispered Georges; “the lamp’s +frightening him. I’ll put it out.” +</p> + +<p> +And when he came back and took her waist again he added: +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll relight it in a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +Then as she listened to the robin and the boy pressed against her side, Nana +remembered. Ah yes, it was in novels that she had got to know all this! In +other days she would have given her heart to have a full moon and robins and a +lad dying of love for her. Great God, she could have cried, so good and +charming did it all seem to her! Beyond a doubt she had been born to live +honestly! So she pushed Georges away again, and he grew yet bolder. +</p> + +<p> +“No, let me be. I don’t care about it. It would be very wicked at +your age. Now listen—I’ll always be your mamma.” +</p> + +<p> +A sudden feeling of shame overcame her. She was blushing exceedingly, and yet +not a soul could see her. The room behind them was full of black night while +the country stretched before them in silence and lifeless solitude. Never had +she known such a sense of shame before. Little by little she felt her power of +resistance ebbing away, and that despite her embarrassed efforts to the +contrary. That disguise of his, that woman’s shift and that dressing +jacket set her laughing again. It was as though a girl friend were teasing her. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s not right; it’s not right!” she stammered +after a last effort. +</p> + +<p> +And with that, in face of the lovely night, she sank like a young virgin into +the arms of this mere child. The house slept. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning at Les Fondettes, when the bell rang for lunch, the dining-room +table was no longer too big for the company. Fauchery and Daguenet had been +driven up together in one carriage, and after them another had arrived with the +Count de Vandeuvres, who had followed by the next train. Georges was the last +to come downstairs. He was looking a little pale, and his eyes were sunken, but +in answer to questions he said that he was much better, though he was still +somewhat shaken by the violence of the attack. Mme Hugon looked into his eyes +with an anxious smile and adjusted his hair which had been carelessly combed +that morning, but he drew back as though embarrassed by this tender little +action. During the meal she chaffed Vandeuvres very pleasantly and declared +that she had expected him for five years past. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, here you are at last! How have you managed it?” +</p> + +<p> +Vandeuvres took her remarks with equal pleasantry. He told her that he had lost +a fabulous sum of money at the club yesterday and thereupon had come away with +the intention of ending up in the country. +</p> + +<p> +“’Pon my word, yes, if only you can find me an heiress in these +rustic parts! There must be delightful women hereabouts.” +</p> + +<p> +The old lady rendered equal thanks to Daguenet and Fauchery for having been so +good as to accept her son’s invitation, and then to her great and joyful +surprise she saw the Marquis de Chouard enter the room. A third carriage had +brought him. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, you’ve made this your trysting place today!” she +cried. “You’ve passed word round! But what’s happening? For +years I’ve never succeeded in bringing you all together, and now you all +drop in at once. Oh, I certainly don’t complain.” +</p> + +<p> +Another place was laid. Fauchery found himself next the Countess Sabine, whose +liveliness and gaiety surprised him when he remembered her drooping, languid +state in the austere Rue Miromesnil drawing room. Daguenet, on the other hand, +who was seated on Estelle’s left, seemed slightly put out by his +propinquity to that tall, silent girl. The angularity of her elbows was +disagreeable to him. Muffat and Chouard had exchanged a sly glance while +Vandeuvres continued joking about his coming marriage. +</p> + +<p> +“Talking of ladies,” Mme Hugon ended by saying, “I have a new +neighbor whom you probably know.” +</p> + +<p> +And she mentioned Nana. Vandeuvres affected the liveliest astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that is strange! Nana’s property near here!” +</p> + +<p> +Fauchery and Daguenet indulged in a similar demonstration while the Marquis de +Chouard discussed the breast of a chicken without appearing to comprehend their +meaning. Not one of the men had smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” continued the old lady, “and the person in +question arrived at La Mignotte yesterday evening, as I was saying she would. I +got my information from the gardener this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words the gentlemen could not conceal their very real surprise. They +all looked up. Eh? What? Nana had come down! But they were only expecting her +next day; they were privately under the impression that they would arrive +before her! Georges alone sat looking at his glass with drooped eyelids and a +tired expression. Ever since the beginning of lunch he had seemed to be +sleeping with open eyes and a vague smile on his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you still in pain, my Zizi?” asked his mother, who had been +gazing at him throughout the meal. +</p> + +<p> +He started and blushed as he said that he was very well now, but the worn-out +insatiate expression of a girl who has danced too much did not fade from his +face. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter with your neck?” resumed Mme Hugon in an +alarmed tone. “It’s all red.” +</p> + +<p> +He was embarrassed and stammered. He did not know—he had nothing the +matter with his neck. Then drawing his shirt collar up: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah yes, some insect stung me there!” +</p> + +<p> +The Marquis de Chouard had cast a sidelong glance at the little red place. +Muffat, too, looked at Georges. The company was finishing lunch and planning +various excursions. Fauchery was growing increasingly excited with the Countess +Sabine’s laughter. As he was passing her a dish of fruit their hands +touched, and for one second she looked at him with eyes so full of dark meaning +that he once more thought of the secret which had been communicated to him one +evening after an uproarious dinner. Then, too, she was no longer the same +woman. Something was more pronounced than of old, and her gray foulard gown +which fitted loosely over her shoulders added a touch of license to her +delicate, high-strung elegance. +</p> + +<p> +When they rose from the table Daguenet remained behind with Fauchery in order +to impart to him the following crude witticism about Estelle: “A nice +broomstick that to shove into a man’s hands!” Nevertheless, he grew +serious when the journalist told him the amount she was worth in the way of +dowry. +</p> + +<p> +“Four hundred thousand francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“And the mother?” queried Fauchery. “She’s all right, +eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, SHE’LL work the oracle! But it’s no go, my dear +man!” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! How are we to know? We must wait and see.” +</p> + +<p> +It was impossible to go out that day, for the rain was still falling in heavy +showers. Georges had made haste to disappear from the scene and had +double-locked his door. These gentlemen avoided mutual explanations, though +they were none of them deceived as to the reasons which had brought them +together. Vandeuvres, who had had a very bad time at play, had really conceived +the notion of lying fallow for a season, and he was counting on Nana’s +presence in the neighborhood as a safeguard against excessive boredom. Fauchery +had taken advantage of the holidays granted him by Rose, who just then was +extremely busy. He was thinking of discussing a second notice with Nana, in +case country air should render them reciprocally affectionate. Daguenet, who +had been just a little sulky with her since Steiner had come upon the scene, +was dreaming of resuming the old connection or at least of snatching some +delightful opportunities if occasion offered. As to the Marquis de Chouard, he +was watching for times and seasons. But among all those men who were busy +following in the tracks of Venus—a Venus with the rouge scarce washed +from her cheeks—Muffat was at once the most ardent and the most tortured +by the novel sensations of desire and fear and anger warring in his anguished +members. A formal promise had been made him; Nana was awaiting him. Why then +had she taken her departure two days sooner than was expected? +</p> + +<p> +He resolved to betake himself to La Mignotte after dinner that same evening. At +night as the count was leaving the park Georges fled forth after him. He left +him to follow the road to Gumières, crossed the Choue, rushed into Nana’s +presence, breathless, furious and with tears in his eyes. Ah yes, he understood +everything! That old fellow now on his way to her was coming to keep an +appointment! Nana was dumfounded by this ebullition of jealousy, and, greatly +moved by the way things were turning out, she took him in her arms and +comforted him to the best of her ability. Oh no, he was quite beside the mark; +she was expecting no one. If the gentleman came it would not be her fault. What +a great ninny that Zizi was to be taking on so about nothing at all! By her +child’s soul she swore she loved nobody except her own Georges. And with +that she kissed him and wiped away his tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Now just listen! You’ll see that it’s all for your +sake,” she went on when he had grown somewhat calmer. “Steiner has +arrived—he’s up above there now. You know, duckie, I can’t +turn HIM out of doors.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know; I’m not talking of HIM,” whispered the boy. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well then, I’ve stuck him into the room at the end. I said I +was out of sorts. He’s unpacking his trunk. Since nobody’s seen +you, be quick and run up and hide in my room and wait for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Georges sprang at her and threw his arms round her neck. It was true after all! +She loved him a little! So they would put the lamp out as they did yesterday +and be in the dark till daytime! Then as the front-door bell sounded he quietly +slipped away. Upstairs in the bedroom he at once took off his shoes so as not +to make any noise and straightway crouched down behind a curtain and waited +soberly. +</p> + +<p> +Nana welcomed Count Muffat, who, though still shaken with passion, was now +somewhat embarrassed. She had pledged her word to him and would even have liked +to keep it since he struck her as a serious, practicable lover. But truly, who +could have foreseen all that happened yesterday? There was the voyage and the +house she had never set eyes on before and the arrival of the drenched little +lover! How sweet it had all seemed to her, and how delightful it would be to +continue in it! So much the worse for the gentleman! For three months past she +had been keeping him dangling after her while she affected conventionality in +order the further to inflame him. Well, well! He would have to continue +dangling, and if he didn’t like that he could go! She would sooner have +thrown up everything than have played false to Georges. +</p> + +<p> +The count had seated himself with all the ceremonious politeness becoming a +country caller. Only his hands were trembling slightly. Lust, which +Nana’s skillful tactics daily exasperated, had at last wrought terrible +havoc in that sanguine, uncontaminated nature. The grave man, the chamberlain +who was wont to tread the state apartments at the Tuileries with slow and +dignified step, was now nightly driven to plunge his teeth into his bolster, +while with sobs of exasperation he pictured to himself a sensual shape which +never changed. But this time he was determined to make an end of the torture. +Coming along the highroad in the deep quiet of the gloaming, he had meditated a +fierce course of action. And the moment he had finished his opening remarks he +tried to take hold of Nana with both hands. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no! Take care!” she said simply. She was not vexed; nay, she +even smiled. +</p> + +<p> +He caught her again, clenching his teeth as he did so. Then as she struggled to +get free he coarsely and crudely reminded her that he had come to stay the +night. Though much embarrassed at this, Nana did not cease to smile. She took +his hands and spoke very familiarly in order to soften her refusal. +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, darling, do be quiet! Honor bright, I can’t: +Steiner’s upstairs.” +</p> + +<p> +But he was beside himself. Never yet had she seen a man in such a state. She +grew frightened and put her hand over his mouth in order to stifle his cries. +Then in lowered tones she besought him to be quiet and to let her alone. +Steiner was coming downstairs. Things were getting stupid, to be sure! When +Steiner entered the room he heard Nana remarking: +</p> + +<p> +“I adore the country.” +</p> + +<p> +She was lounging comfortably back in her deep easy chair, and she turned round +and interrupted herself. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Monsieur le Comte Muffat, darling. He saw a light here while +he was strolling past, and he came in to bid us welcome.” +</p> + +<p> +The two men clasped hands. Muffat, with his face in shadow, stood silent for a +moment or two. Steiner seemed sulky. Then they chatted about Paris: business +there was at a standstill; abominable things had been happening on +’change. When a quarter of an hour had elapsed Muffat took his departure, +and, as the young woman was seeing him to the door, he tried without success to +make an assignation for the following night. Steiner went up to bed almost +directly afterward, grumbling, as he did so, at the everlasting little ailments +that seemed to afflict the genus courtesan. The two old boys had been packed +off at last! When she was able to rejoin him Nana found Georges still hiding +exemplarily behind the curtain. The room was dark. He pulled her down onto the +floor as she sat near him, and together they began playfully rolling on the +ground, stopping now and again and smothering their laughter with kisses +whenever they struck their bare feet against some piece of furniture. Far away, +on the road to Gumières, Count Muffat walked slowly home and, hat in hand, +bathed his burning forehead in the freshness and silence of the night. +</p> + +<p> +During the days that followed Nana found life adorable. In the lad’s arms +she was once more a girl of fifteen, and under the caressing influence of this +renewed childhood love’s white flower once more blossomed forth in a +nature which had grown hackneyed and disgusted in the service of the other sex. +She would experience sudden fits of shame, sudden vivid emotions, which left +her trembling. She wanted to laugh and to cry, and she was beset by nervous, +maidenly feelings, mingled with warm desires that made her blush again. Never +yet had she felt anything comparable to this. The country filled her with +tender thoughts. As a little girl she had long wished to dwell in a meadow, +tending a goat, because one day on the talus of the fortifications she had seen +a goat bleating at the end of its tether. Now this estate, this stretch of land +belonging to her, simply swelled her heart to bursting, so utterly had her old +ambition been surpassed. Once again she tasted the novel sensations experienced +by chits of girls, and at night when she went upstairs, dizzy with her day in +the open air and intoxicated by the scent of green leaves, and rejoined her +Zizi behind the curtain, she fancied herself a schoolgirl enjoying a holiday +escapade. It was an amour, she thought, with a young cousin to whom she was +going to be married. And so she trembled at the slightest noise and dread lest +parents should hear her, while making the delicious experiments and suffering +the voluptuous terrors attendant on a girl’s first slip from the path of +virtue. +</p> + +<p> +Nana in those days was subject to the fancies a sentimental girl will indulge +in. She would gaze at the moon for hours. One night she had a mind to go down +into the garden with Georges when all the household was asleep. When there they +strolled under the trees, their arms round each other’s waists, and +finally went and laid down in the grass, where the dew soaked them through and +through. On another occasion, after a long silence up in the bedroom, she fell +sobbing on the lad’s neck, declaring in broken accents that she was +afraid of dying. She would often croon a favorite ballad of Mme Lerat’s, +which was full of flowers and birds. The song would melt her to tears, and she +would break off in order to clasp Georges in a passionate embrace and to +extract from him vows of undying affection. In short she was extremely silly, +as she herself would admit when they both became jolly good fellows again and +sat up smoking cigarettes on the edge of the bed, dangling their bare legs over +it the while and tapping their heels against its wooden side. +</p> + +<p> +But what utterly melted the young woman’s heart was Louiset’s +arrival. She had an access of maternal affection which was as violent as a mad +fit. She would carry off her boy into the sunshine outside to watch him kicking +about; she would dress him like a little prince and roll with him in the grass. +The moment he arrived she decided that he was to sleep near her, in the room +next hers, where Mme Lerat, whom the country greatly affected, used to begin +snoring the moment her head touched the pillow. Louiset did not hurt +Zizi’s position in the least. On the contrary, Nana said that she had now +two children, and she treated them with the same wayward tenderness. At night, +more than ten times running, she would leave Zizi to go and see if Louiset were +breathing properly, but on her return she would re-embrace her Zizi and lavish +on him the caresses that had been destined for the child. She played at being +Mamma while he wickedly enjoyed being dandled in the arms of the great wench +and allowed himself to be rocked to and fro like a baby that is being sent to +sleep. It was all so delightful, and Nana was so charmed with her present +existence, that she seriously proposed to him never to leave the country. They +would send all the other people away, and he, she and the child would live +alone. And with that they would make a thousand plans till daybreak and never +once hear Mme Lerat as she snored vigorously after the fatigues of a day spent +in picking country flowers. +</p> + +<p> +This charming existence lasted nearly a week. Count Muffat used to come every +evening and go away again with disordered face and burning hands. One evening +he was not even received, as Steiner had been obliged to run up to Paris. He +was told that Madame was not well. Nana grew daily more disgusted at the notion +of deceiving Georges. He was such an innocent lad, and he had such faith in +her! She would have looked on herself as the lowest of the low had she played +him false. Besides, it would have sickened her to do so! Zoé, who took her part +in this affair in mute disdain, believed that Madame was growing senseless. +</p> + +<p> +On the sixth day a band of visitors suddenly blundered into Nana’s idyl. +She had, indeed, invited a whole swarm of people under the belief that none of +them would come. And so one fine afternoon she was vastly astonished and +annoyed to see an omnibus full of people pulling up outside the gate of La +Mignotte. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s us!” cried Mignon, getting down first from the +conveyance and extracting then his sons Henri and Charles. +</p> + +<p> +Labordette thereupon appeared and began handing out an interminable file of +ladies—Lucy Stewart, Caroline Hequet, Tatan Nene, Maria Blond. Nana was +in hopes that they would end there, when La Faloise sprang from the step in +order to receive Gaga and her daughter Amelie in his trembling arms. That +brought the number up to eleven people. Their installation proved a laborious +undertaking. There were five spare rooms at La Mignotte, one of which was +already occupied by Mme Lerat and Louiset. The largest was devoted to the Gaga +and La Faloise establishment, and it was decided that Amelie should sleep on a +truckle bed in the dressing room at the side. Mignon and his two sons had the +third room. Labordette the fourth. There thus remained one room which was +transformed into a dormitory with four beds in it for Lucy, Caroline, Tatan and +Maria. As to Steiner, he would sleep on the divan in the drawing room. At the +end of an hour, when everyone was duly settled, Nana, who had begun by being +furious, grew enchanted at the thought of playing hostess on a grand scale. The +ladies complimented her on La Mignotte. “It’s a stunning property, +my dear!” And then, too, they brought her quite a whiff of Parisian air, +and talking all together with bursts of laughter and exclamation and emphatic +little gestures, they gave her all the petty gossip of the week just past. By +the by, and how about Bordenave? What had he said about her prank? Oh, nothing +much! After bawling about having her brought back by the police, he had simply +put somebody else in her place at night. Little Violaine was the understudy, +and she had even obtained a very pretty success as the Blonde Venus. Which +piece of news made Nana rather serious. +</p> + +<p> +It was only four o’clock in the afternoon, and there was some talk of +taking a stroll around. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I haven’t told you,” said Nana, “I was just off to +get up potatoes when you arrived.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon they all wanted to go and dig potatoes without even changing their +dresses first. It was quite a party. The gardener and two helpers were already +in the potato field at the end of the grounds. The ladies knelt down and began +fumbling in the mold with their beringed fingers, shouting gaily whenever they +discovered a potato of exceptional size. It struck them as so amusing! But +Tatan Nene was in a state of triumph! So many were the potatoes she had +gathered in her youth that she forgot herself entirely and gave the others much +good advice, treating them like geese the while. The gentlemen toiled less +strenuously. Mignon looked every inch the good citizen and father and made his +stay in the country an occasion for completing his boys’ education. +Indeed, he spoke to them of Parmentier! +</p> + +<p> +Dinner that evening was wildly hilarious. The company ate ravenously. Nana, in +a state of great elevation, had a warm disagreement with her butler, an +individual who had been in service at the bishop’s palace in Orleans. The +ladies smoked over their coffee. An earsplitting noise of merrymaking issued +from the open windows and died out far away under the serene evening sky while +peasants, belated in the lanes, turned and looked at the flaring rooms. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s most tiresome that you’re going back the day after +tomorrow,” said Nana. “But never mind, we’ll get up an +excursion all the same!” +</p> + +<p> +They decided to go on the morrow, Sunday, and visit the ruins of the old Abbey +of Chamont, which were some seven kilometers distant. Five carriages would come +out from Orleans, take up the company after lunch and bring them back to dinner +at La Mignotte at about seven. It would be delightful. +</p> + +<p> +That evening, as his wont was, Count Muffat mounted the hill to ring at the +outer gate. But the brightly lit windows and the shouts of laughter astonished +him. When, however, he recognized Mignon’s voice, he understood it all +and went off, raging at this new obstacle, driven to extremities, bent on some +violent act. Georges passed through a little door of which he had the key, +slipped along the staircase walls and went quietly up into Nana’s room. +Only he had to wait for her till past midnight. She appeared at last in a high +state of intoxication and more maternal even than on the previous nights. +Whenever she had drunk anything she became so amorous as to be absurd. +Accordingly she now insisted on his accompanying her to the Abbey of Chamont. +But he stood out against this; he was afraid of being seen. If he were to be +seen driving with her there would be an atrocious scandal. But she burst into +tears and evinced the noisy despair of a slighted woman. And he thereupon +consoled her and formally promised to be one of the party. +</p> + +<p> +“So you do love me very much,” she blurted out. “Say you love +me very much. Oh, my darling old bear, if I were to die would you feel it very +much? Confess!” +</p> + +<p> +At Les Fondettes the near neighborhood of Nana had utterly disorganized the +party. Every morning during lunch good Mme Hugon returned to the subject +despite herself, told her guests the news the gardener had brought her and gave +evidence of the absorbing curiosity with which notorious courtesans are able to +inspire even the worthiest old ladies. Tolerant though she was, she was +revolted and maddened by a vague presentiment of coming ill, which frightened +her in the evenings as thoroughly as if a wild beast had escaped from a +menagerie and were known to be lurking in the countryside. +</p> + +<p> +She began trying to pick a little quarrel with her guests, whom she each and +all accused of prowling round La Mignotte. Count Vandeuvres had been seen +laughing on the highroad with a golden-haired lady, but he defended himself +against the accusation; he denied that it was Nana, the fact being that Lucy +had been with him and had told him how she had just turned her third prince out +of doors. The Marquis de Chouard used also to go out every day, but his excuse +was doctor’s orders. Toward Daguenet and Fauchery Mme Hugon behaved +unjustly too. The former especially never left Les Fondettes, for he had given +up the idea of renewing the old connection and was busy paying the most +respectful attentions to Estelle. Fauchery also stayed with the Muffat ladies. +On one occasion only he had met Mignon with an armful of flowers, putting his +sons through a course of botanical instruction in a by-path. The two men had +shaken hands and given each other the news about Rose. She was perfectly well +and happy; they had both received a letter from her that morning in which she +besought them to profit by the fresh country air for some days longer. Among +all her guests the old lady spared only Count Muffat and Georges. The count, +who said he had serious business in Orleans, could certainly not be running +after the bad woman, and as to Georges, the poor child was at last causing her +grave anxiety, seeing that every evening he was seized with atrocious sick +headaches which kept him to his bed in broad daylight. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Fauchery had become the Countess Sabine’s faithful attendant in +the absence during each afternoon of Count Muffat. Whenever they went to the +end of the park he carried her campstool and her sunshade. Besides, he amused +her with the original witticisms peculiar to a second-rate journalist, and in +so doing he prompted her to one of those sudden intimacies which are allowable +in the country. She had apparently consented to it from the first, for she had +grown quite a girl again in the society of a young man whose noisy humor seemed +unlikely to compromise her. But now and again, when for a second or two they +found themselves alone behind the shrubs, their eyes would meet; they would +pause amid their laughter, grow suddenly serious and view one another darkly, +as though they had fathomed and divined their inmost hearts. +</p> + +<p> +On Friday a fresh place had to be laid at lunch time. M. Theophile Venot, whom +Mme Hugon remembered to have invited at the Muffats’ last winter, had +just arrived. He sat stooping humbly forward and behaved with much good nature, +as became a man of no account, nor did he seem to notice the anxious deference +with which he was treated. When he had succeeded in getting the company to +forget his presence he sat nibbling small lumps of sugar during dessert, +looking sharply up at Daguenet as the latter handed Estelle strawberries and +listening to Fauchery, who was making the countess very merry over one of his +anecdotes. Whenever anyone looked at HIM he smiled in his quiet way. When the +guests rose from table he took the count’s arm and drew him into the +park. He was known to have exercised great influence over the latter ever since +the death of his mother. Indeed, singular stories were told about the kind of +dominion which the ex-lawyer enjoyed in that household. Fauchery, whom his +arrival doubtless embarrassed, began explaining to Georges and Daguenet the +origin of the man’s wealth. It was a big lawsuit with the management of +which the Jesuits had entrusted him in days gone by. In his opinion the worthy +man was a terrible fellow despite his gentle, plump face and at this time of +day had his finger in all the intrigues of the priesthood. The two young men +had begun joking at this, for they thought the little old gentleman had an +idiotic expression. The idea of an unknown Venot, a gigantic Venot, acting for +the whole body of the clergy, struck them in the light of a comical invention. +But they were silenced when, still leaning on the old man’s arm, Count +Muffat reappeared with blanched cheeks and eyes reddened as if by recent +weeping. +</p> + +<p> +“I bet they’ve been chatting about hell,” muttered Fauchery +in a bantering tone. +</p> + +<p> +The Countess Sabine overheard the remark. She turned her head slowly, and their +eyes met in that long gaze with which they were accustomed to sound one another +prudently before venturing once for all. +</p> + +<p> +After the breakfast it was the guests’ custom to betake themselves to a +little flower garden on a terrace overlooking the plain. This Sunday afternoon +was exquisitely mild. There had been signs of rain toward ten in the morning, +but the sky, without ceasing to be covered, had, as it were, melted into milky +fog, which now hung like a cloud of luminous dust in the golden sunlight. Soon +Mme Hugon proposed that they should step down through a little doorway below +the terrace and take a walk on foot in the direction of Gumières and as far as +the Choue. She was fond of walking and, considering her threescore years, was +very active. Besides, all her guests declared that there was no need to drive. +So in a somewhat straggling order they reached the wooden bridge over the +river. Fauchery and Daguenet headed the column with the Muffat ladies and were +followed by the count and the marquis, walking on either side of Mme Hugon, +while Vandeuvres, looking fashionable and out of his element on the highroad, +marched in the rear, smoking a cigar. M. Venot, now slackening, now hastening +his pace, passed smilingly from group to group, as though bent on losing no +scrap of conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“To think of poor dear Georges at Orleans!” said Mme Hugon. +“He was anxious to consult old Doctor Tavernier, who never goes out now, +on the subject of his sick headaches. Yes, you were not up, as he went off +before seven o’clock. But it’ll be a change for him all the +same.” +</p> + +<p> +She broke off, exclaiming: +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what’s making them stop on the bridge?” +</p> + +<p> +The fact was the ladies and Fauchery and Daguenet were standing stock-still on +the crown of the bridge. They seemed to be hesitating as though some obstacle +or other rendered them uneasy and yet the way lay clear before them. +</p> + +<p> +“Go on!” cried the count. +</p> + +<p> +They never moved and seemed to be watching the approach of something which the +rest had not yet observed. Indeed the road wound considerably and was bordered +by a thick screen of poplar trees. Nevertheless, a dull sound began to grow +momentarily louder, and soon there was a noise of wheels, mingled with shouts +of laughter and the cracking of whips. Then suddenly five carriages came into +view, driving one behind the other. They were crowded to bursting, and bright +with a galaxy of white, blue and pink costumes. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” said Mme Hugon in some surprise. +</p> + +<p> +Then her instinct told her, and she felt indignant at such an untoward invasion +of her road. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that woman!” she murmured. “Walk on, pray walk on. +Don’t appear to notice.” +</p> + +<p> +But it was too late. The five carriages which were taking Nana and her circle +to the ruins of Chamont rolled on to the narrow wooden bridge. Fauchery, +Daguenet and the Muffat ladies were forced to step backward, while Mme Hugon +and the others had also to stop in Indian file along the roadside. It was a +superb ride past! The laughter in the carriages had ceased, and faces were +turned with an expression of curiosity. The rival parties took stock of each +other amid a silence broken only by the measured trot of the horses. In the +first carriage Maria Blond and Tatan Nene were lolling backward like a pair of +duchesses, their skirts swelling forth over the wheels, and as they passed they +cast disdainful glances at the honest women who were walking afoot. Then came +Gaga, filling up a whole seat and half smothering La Faloise beside her so that +little but his small anxious face was visible. Next followed Caroline Hequet +with Labordette, Lucy Stewart with Mignon and his boys and at the close of all +Nana in a victoria with Steiner and on a bracket seat in front of her that +poor, darling Zizi, with his knees jammed against her own. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the last of them, isn’t it?” the countess +placidly asked Fauchery, pretending at the same time not to recognize Nana. +</p> + +<p> +The wheel of the victoria came near grazing her, but she did not step back. The +two women had exchanged a deeply significant glance. It was, in fact, one of +those momentary scrutinies which are at once complete and definite. As to the +men, they behaved unexceptionably. Fauchery and Daguenet looked icy and +recognized no one. The marquis, more nervous than they and afraid of some +farcical ebullition on the part of the ladies, had plucked a blade of grass and +was rolling it between his fingers. Only Vandeuvres, who had stayed somewhat +apart from the rest of the company, winked imperceptibly at Lucy, who smiled at +him as she passed. +</p> + +<p> +“Be careful!” M. Venot had whispered as he stood behind Count +Muffat. +</p> + +<p> +The latter in extreme agitation gazed after this illusive vision of Nana while +his wife turned slowly round and scrutinized him. Then he cast his eyes on the +ground as though to escape the sound of galloping hoofs which were sweeping +away both his senses and his heart. He could have cried aloud in his agony, +for, seeing Georges among Nana’s skirts, he understood it all now. A mere +child! He was brokenhearted at the thought that she should have preferred a +mere child to him! Steiner was his equal, but that child! +</p> + +<p> +Mme Hugon, in the meantime, had not at once recognized Georges. Crossing the +bridge, he was fain to jump into the river, but Nana’s knees restrained +him. Then white as a sheet and icy cold, he sat rigidly up in his place and +looked at no one. It was just possible no one would notice him. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God!” said the old lady suddenly. “Georges is with +her!” +</p> + +<p> +The carriages had passed quite through the uncomfortable crowd of people who +recognized and yet gave no sign of recognition. The short critical encounter +seemed to have been going on for ages. And now the wheels whirled away the +carriageloads of girls more gaily than ever. Toward the fair open country they +went, amid the buffetings of the fresh air of heaven. Bright-colored fabrics +fluttered in the wind, and the merry laughter burst forth anew as the voyagers +began jesting and glancing back at the respectable folks halting with looks of +annoyance at the roadside. Turning round, Nana could see the walking party +hesitating and then returning the way they had come without crossing the +bridge. Mme Hugon was leaning silently on Count Muffat’s arm, and so sad +was her look that no one dared comfort her. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, did you see Fauchery, dear?” Nana shouted to Lucy, who was +leaning out of the carriage in front. “What a brute he was! He shall pay +out for that. And Paul, too, a fellow I’ve been so kind to! Not a sign! +They’re polite, I’m sure.” +</p> + +<p> +And with that she gave Steiner a terrible dressing, he having ventured to +suggest that the gentlemen’s attitude had been quite as it should be. So +then they weren’t even worth a bow? The first blackguard that came by +might insult them? Thanks! He was the right sort, too, he was! It +couldn’t be better! One ought always to bow to a woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s the tall one?” asked Lucy at random, shouting through +the noise of the wheels. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the Countess Muffat,” answered Steiner. +</p> + +<p> +“There now! I suspected as much,” said Nana. “Now, my dear +fellow, it’s all very well her being a countess, for she’s no +better than she should be. Yes, yes, she’s no better that she should be. +You know, I’ve got an eye for such things, I have! And now I know your +countess as well as if I had been at the making of her! I’ll bet you that +she’s the mistress of that viper Fauchery! I tell you, she’s his +mistress! Between women you guess that sort of thing at once!” +</p> + +<p> +Steiner shrugged his shoulders. Since the previous day his irritation had been +hourly increasing. He had received letters which necessitated his leaving the +following morning, added to which he did not much appreciate coming down to the +country in order to sleep on the drawing-room divan. +</p> + +<p> +“And this poor baby boy!” Nana continued, melting suddenly at sight +of Georges’s pale face as he still sat rigid and breathless in front of +her. +</p> + +<p> +“D’you think Mamma recognized me?” he stammered at last. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, most surely she did! Why, she cried out! But it’s my fault. He +didn’t want to come with us; I forced him to. Now listen, Zizi, would you +like me to write to your mamma? She looks such a kind, decent sort of lady! +I’ll tell her that I never saw you before and that it was Steiner who +brought you with him for the first time today.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, don’t write,” said Georges in great anxiety. +“I’ll explain it all myself. Besides, if they bother me about it I +shan’t go home again.” +</p> + +<p> +But he continued plunged in thought, racking his brains for excuses against his +return home in the evening. The five carriages were rolling through a flat +country along an interminable straight road bordered by fine trees. The country +was bathed in a silvery-gray atmosphere. The ladies still continued shouting +remarks from carriage to carriage behind the backs of the drivers, who chuckled +over their extraordinary fares. Occasionally one of them would rise to her feet +to look at the landscape and, supporting herself on her neighbor’s +shoulder, would grow extremely excited till a sudden jolt brought her down to +the seat again. Caroline Hequet in the meantime was having a warm discussion +with Labordette. Both of them were agreed that Nana would be selling her +country house before three months were out, and Caroline was urging Labordette +to buy it back for her for as little as it was likely to fetch. In front of +them La Faloise, who was very amorous and could not get at Gaga’s +apoplectic neck, was imprinting kisses on her spine through her dress, the +strained fabric of which was nigh splitting, while Amelie, perching stiffly on +the bracket seat, was bidding them be quiet, for she was horrified to be +sitting idly by, watching her mother being kissed. In the next carriage Mignon, +in order to astonish Lucy, was making his sons recite a fable by La Fontaine. +Henri was prodigious at this exercise; he could spout you one without pause or +hesitation. But Maria Blond, at the head of the procession, was beginning to +feel extremely bored. She was tired of hoaxing that blockhead of a Tatan Nene +with a story to the effect that the Parisian dairywomen were wont to fabricate +eggs with a mixture of paste and saffron. The distance was too great: were they +never going to get to their destination? And the question was transmitted from +carriage to carriage and finally reached Nana, who, after questioning her +driver, got up and shouted: +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve not got a quarter of an hour more to go. You see that church +behind the trees down there?” +</p> + +<p> +Then she continued: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know, it appears the owner of the Château de Chamont is an old +lady of Napoleon’s time? Oh, SHE was a merry one! At least, so Joseph +told me, and he heard it from the servants at the bishop’s palace. +There’s no one like it nowadays, and for the matter of that, she’s +become goody-goody.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s her name?” asked Lucy. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame d’Anglars.” +</p> + +<p> +“Irma d’Anglars—I knew her!” cried Gaga. +</p> + +<p> +Admiring exclamations burst from the line of carriages and were borne down the +wind as the horses quickened their trot. Heads were stretched out in +Gaga’s direction; Maria Blond and Tatan Nene turned round and knelt on +the seat while they leaned over the carriage hood, and the air was full of +questions and cutting remarks, tempered by a certain obscure admiration. Gaga +had known her! The idea filled them all with respect for that far-off past. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, I was young then,” continued Gaga. “But never mind, +I remember it all. I saw her pass. They said she was disgusting in her own +house, but, driving in her carriage, she WAS just smart! And the stunning tales +about her! Dirty doings and money flung about like one o’clock! I +don’t wonder at all that she’s got a fine place. Why, she used to +clean out a man’s pockets as soon as look at him. Irma d’Anglars +still in the land of the living! Why, my little pets, she must be near +ninety.” +</p> + +<p> +At this the ladies became suddenly serious. Ninety years old! The deuce, there +wasn’t one of them, as Lucy loudly declared, who would live to that age. +They were all done for. Besides, Nana said she didn’t want to make old +bones; it wouldn’t be amusing. They were drawing near their destination, +and the conversation was interrupted by the cracking of whips as the drivers +put their horses to their best paces. Yet amid all the noise Lucy continued +talking and, suddenly changing the subject, urged Nana to come to town with +them all to-morrow. The exhibition was soon to close, and the ladies must +really return to Paris, where the season was surpassing their expectations. But +Nana was obstinate. She loathed Paris; she wouldn’t set foot there yet! +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, darling, we’ll stay?” she said, giving Georges’s +knees a squeeze, as though Steiner were of no account. +</p> + +<p> +The carriages had pulled up abruptly, and in some surprise the company got out +on some waste ground at the bottom of a small hill. With his whip one of the +drivers had to point them out the ruins of the old Abbey of Chamont where they +lay hidden among trees. It was a great sell! The ladies voted them silly. Why, +they were only a heap of old stones with briers growing over them and part of a +tumble-down tower. It really wasn’t worth coming a couple of leagues to +see that! Then the driver pointed out to them the countryseat, the park of +which stretched away from the abbey, and he advised them to take a little path +and follow the walls surrounding it. They would thus make the tour of the place +while the carriages would go and await them in the village square. It was a +delightful walk, and the company agreed to the proposition. +</p> + +<p> +“Lord love me, Irma knows how to take care of herself!” said Gaga, +halting before a gate at the corner of the park wall abutting on the highroad. +</p> + +<p> +All of them stood silently gazing at the enormous bush which stopped up the +gateway. Then following the little path, they skirted the park wall, looking up +from time to time to admire the trees, whose lofty branches stretched out over +them and formed a dense vault of greenery. After three minutes or so they found +themselves in front of a second gate. Through this a wide lawn was visible, +over which two venerable oaks cast dark masses of shadow. Three minutes farther +on yet another gate afforded them an extensive view of a great avenue, a +perfect corridor of shadow, at the end of which a bright spot of sunlight +gleamed like a star. They stood in silent, wondering admiration, and then +little by little exclamations burst from their lips. They had been trying hard +to joke about it all with a touch of envy at heart, but this decidedly and +immeasurably impressed them. What a genius that Irma was! A sight like this +gave you a rattling notion of the woman! The trees stretched away and away, and +there were endlessly recurrent patches of ivy along the wall with glimpses of +lofty roofs and screens of poplars interspersed with dense masses of elms and +aspens. Was there no end to it then? The ladies would have liked to catch sight +of the mansion house, for they were weary of circling on and on, weary of +seeing nothing but leafy recesses through every opening they came to. They took +the rails of the gate in their hands and pressed their faces against the +ironwork. And thus excluded and isolated, a feeling of respect began to +overcome them as they thought of the castle lost to view in surrounding +immensity. Soon, being quite unused to walking, they grew tired. And the wall +did not leave off; at every turn of the small deserted path the same range of +gray stones stretched ahead of them. Some of them began to despair of ever +getting to the end of it and began talking of returning. But the more their +long walk fatigued them, the more respectful they became, for at each +successive step they were increasingly impressed by the tranquil, lordly +dignity of the domain. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s getting silly, this is!” said Caroline Hequet, grinding +her teeth. +</p> + +<p> +Nana silenced her with a shrug. For some moments past she had been rather pale +and extremely serious and had not spoken a single word. Suddenly the path gave +a final turn; the wall ended, and as they came out on the village square the +mansion house stood before them on the farther side of its grand outer court. +All stopped to admire the proud sweep of the wide steps, the twenty frontage +windows, the arrangement of the three wings, which were built of brick framed +by courses of stone. Henri IV had erewhile inhabited this historic mansion, and +his room, with its great bed hung with Genoa velvet, was still preserved there. +Breathless with admiration, Nana gave a little childish sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Great God!” she whispered very quietly to herself. +</p> + +<p> +But the party were deeply moved when Gaga suddenly announced that Irma herself +was standing yonder in front of the church. She recognized her perfectly. She +was as upright as of old, the hoary campaigner, and that despite her age, and +she still had those eyes which flashed when she moved in that proud way of +hers! Vespers were just over, and for a second or two Madame stood in the +church porch. She was dressed in a dark brown silk and looked very simple and +very tall, her venerable face reminding one of some old marquise who had +survived the horrors of the Great Revolution. In her right hand a huge Book of +Hours shone in the sunlight, and very slowly she crossed the square, followed +some fifteen paces off by a footman in livery. The church was emptying, and all +the inhabitants of Chamont bowed before her with extreme respect. An old man +even kissed her hand, and a woman wanted to fall on her knees. Truly this was a +potent queen, full of years and honors. She mounted her flight of steps and +vanished from view. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what one attains to when one has methodical habits!” +said Mignon with an air of conviction, looking at his sons and improving the +occasion. +</p> + +<p> +Then everybody said his say. Labordette thought her extraordinarily well +preserved. Maria Blond let slip a foul expression and vexed Lucy, who declared +that one ought to honor gray hairs. All the women, to sum up, agreed that she +was a perfect marvel. Then the company got into their conveyances again. From +Chamont all the way to La Mignotte Nana remained silent. She had twice turned +round to look back at the house, and now, lulled by the sound of the wheels, +she forgot that Steiner was at her side and that Georges was in front of her. A +vision had come up out of the twilight, and the great lady seemed still to be +sweeping by with all the majesty of a potent queen, full of years and of +honors. +</p> + +<p> +That evening Georges re-entered Les Fondettes in time for dinner. Nana, who had +grown increasingly absent-minded and singular in point of manner, had sent him +to ask his mamma’s forgiveness. It was his plain duty, she remarked +severely, growing suddenly solicitous for the decencies of family life. She +even made him swear not to return for the night; she was tired, and in showing +proper obedience he was doing no more than his duty. Much bored by this moral +discourse, Georges appeared in his mother’s presence with heavy heart and +downcast head. +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately for him his brother Philippe, a great merry devil of a military +man, had arrived during the day, a fact which greatly curtailed the scene he +was dreading. Mme Hugon was content to look at him with eyes full of tears +while Philippe, who had been put in possession of the facts, threatened to go +and drag him home by the scruff of the neck if ever he went back into that +woman’s society. Somewhat comforted, Georges began slyly planning how to +make his escape toward two o’clock next day in order to arrange about +future meetings with Nana. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, at dinnertime the house party at Les Fondettes seemed not a +little embarrassed. Vandeuvres had given notice of departure, for he was +anxious to take Lucy back to Paris with him. He was amused at the idea of +carrying off this girl whom he had known for ten years yet never desired. The +Marquis de Chouard bent over his plate and meditated on Gaga’s young +lady. He could well remember dandling Lili on his knee. What a way children had +of shooting up! This little thing was becoming extremely plump! But Count +Muffat especially was silent and absorbed. His cheeks glowed, and he had given +Georges one long look. Dinner over, he went upstairs, intending to shut himself +in his bedroom, his pretext being a slight feverish attack. M. Venot had rushed +after him, and upstairs in the bedroom a scene ensued. The count threw himself +upon the bed and strove to stifle a fit of nervous sobbing in the folds of the +pillow while M. Venot, in a soft voice, called him brother and advised him to +implore heaven for mercy. But he heard nothing: there was a rattle in his +throat. Suddenly he sprang off the bed and stammered: +</p> + +<p> +“I am going there. I can’t resist any longer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said the old man, “I go with you.” +</p> + +<p> +As they left the house two shadows were vanishing into the dark depths of a +garden walk, for every evening now Fauchery and the Countess Sabine left +Daguenet to help Estelle make tea. Once on the highroad the count walked so +rapidly that his companion had to run in order to follow him. Though utterly +out of breath, the latter never ceased showering on him the most conclusive +arguments against the temptations of the flesh. But the other never opened his +mouth as he hurried away into the night. Arrived in front of La Mignotte, he +said simply: +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t resist any longer. Go!” +</p> + +<p> +“God’s will be done then!” muttered M. Venot. “He uses +every method to assure His final triumph. Your sin will become His +weapon.” +</p> + +<p> +At La Mignotte there was much wrangling during the evening meal. Nana had found +a letter from Bordenave awaiting her, in which he advised rest, just as though +he were anxious to be rid of her. Little Violaine, he said, was being encored +twice nightly. But when Mignon continued urging her to come away with them on +the morrow Nana grew exasperated and declared that she did not intend taking +advice from anybody. In other ways, too, her behavior at table was ridiculously +stuck up. Mme Lerat having made some sharp little speech or other, she loudly +announced that, God willing, she wasn’t going to let anyone—no, not +even her own aunt—make improper remarks in her presence. After which she +dreed her guests with honorable sentiments. She seemed to be suffering from a +fit of stupid right-mindedness, and she treated them all to projects of +religious education for Louiset and to a complete scheme of regeneration for +herself. When the company began laughing she gave vent to profound opinions, +nodding her head like a grocer’s wife who knows what she is saying. +Nothing but order could lead to fortune! And so far as she was concerned, she +had no wish to die like a beggar! She set the ladies’ teeth on edge. They +burst out in protest. Could anyone have been converting Nana? No, it was +impossible! But she sat quite still and with absent looks once more plunged +into dreamland, where the vision of an extremely wealthy and greatly courted +Nana rose up before her. +</p> + +<p> +The household were going upstairs to bed when Muffat put in an appearance. It +was Labordette who caught sight of him in the garden. He understood it all at +once and did him a service, for he got Steiner out of the way and, taking his +hand, led him along the dark corridor as far as Nana’s bedroom. In +affairs of this kind Labordette was wont to display the most perfect tact and +cleverness. Indeed, he seemed delighted to be making other people happy. Nana +showed no surprise; she was only somewhat annoyed by the excessive heat of +Muffat’s pursuit. Life was a serious affair, was it not? Love was too +silly: it led to nothing. Besides, she had her scruples in view of Zizi’s +tender age. Indeed, she had scarcely behaved quite fairly toward him. Dear me, +yes, she was choosing the proper course again in taking up with an old fellow. +</p> + +<p> +“Zoé,” she said to the lady’s maid, who was enchanted at the +thought of leaving the country, “pack the trunks when you get up +tomorrow. We are going back to Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +And she went to bed with Muffat but experienced no pleasure. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"></a> CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p> +One December evening three months afterward Count Muffat was strolling in the +Passage des Panoramas. The evening was very mild, and owing to a passing +shower, the passage had just become crowded with people. There was a perfect +mob of them, and they thronged slowly and laboriously along between the shops +on either side. Under the windows, white with reflected light, the pavement was +violently illuminated. A perfect stream of brilliancy emanated from white +globes, red lanterns, blue transparencies, lines of gas jets, gigantic watches +and fans, outlined in flame and burning in the open. And the motley displays in +the shops, the gold ornaments of the jeweler’s, the glass ornaments of +the confectioner’s, the light-colored silks of the modiste’s, +seemed to shine again in the crude light of the reflectors behind the clear +plate-glass windows, while among the bright-colored, disorderly array of shop +signs a huge purple glove loomed in the distance like a bleeding hand which had +been severed from an arm and fastened to a yellow cuff. +</p> + +<p> +Count Muffat had slowly returned as far as the boulevard. He glanced out at the +roadway and then came sauntering back along the shopwindows. The damp and +heated atmosphere filled the narrow passage with a slight luminous mist. Along +the flagstones, which had been wet by the drip-drop of umbrellas, the footsteps +of the crowd rang continually, but there was no sound of voices. Passers-by +elbowed him at every turn and cast inquiring looks at his silent face, which +the gaslight rendered pale. And to escape these curious manifestations the +count posted himself in front of a stationer’s, where with profound +attention contemplated an array of paperweights in the form of glass bowls +containing floating landscapes and flowers. +</p> + +<p> +He was conscious of nothing: he was thinking of Nana. Why had she lied to him +again? That morning she had written and told him not to trouble about her in +the evening, her excuse being that Louiset was ill and that she was going to +pass the night at her aunt’s in order to nurse him. But he had felt +suspicious and had called at her house, where he learned from the porter that +Madame had just gone off to her theater. He was astonished at this, for she was +not playing in the new piece. Why then should she have told him this falsehood, +and what could she be doing at the Variétés that evening? Hustled by a +passer-by, the count unconsciously left the paperweights and found himself in +front of a glass case full of toys, where he grew absorbed over an array of +pocketbooks and cigar cases, all of which had the same blue swallow stamped on +one corner. Nana was most certainly not the same woman! In the early days after +his return from the country she used to drive him wild with delight, as with +pussycat caresses she kissed him all round his face and whiskers and vowed that +he was her own dear pet and the only little man she adored. He was no longer +afraid of Georges, whom his mother kept down at Les Fondettes. There was only +fat Steiner to reckon with, and he believed he was really ousting him, but he +did not dare provoke an explanation on his score. He knew he was once more in +an extraordinary financial scrape and on the verge of being declared bankrupt +on ’change, so much so that he was clinging fiercely to the shareholders +in the Landes Salt Pits and striving to sweat a final subscription out of them. +Whenever he met him at Nana’s she would explain reasonably enough that +she did not wish to turn him out of doors like a dog after all he had spent on +her. Besides, for the last three months he had been living in such a whirl of +sensual excitement that, beyond the need of possessing her, he had felt no very +distinct impressions. His was a tardy awakening of the fleshly instinct, a +childish greed of enjoyment, which left no room for either vanity or jealousy. +Only one definite feeling could affect him now, and that was Nana’s +decreasing kindness. She no longer kissed him on the beard! It made him +anxious, and as became a man quite ignorant of womankind, he began asking +himself what possible cause of offense he could have given her. Besides, he was +under the impression that he was satisfying all her desires. And so he harked +back again and again to the letter he had received that morning with its tissue +of falsehoods, invented for the extremely simple purpose of passing an evening +at her own theater. The crowd had pushed him forward again, and he had crossed +the passage and was puzzling his brain in front of the entrance to a +restaurant, his eyes fixed on some plucked larks and on a huge salmon laid out +inside the window. +</p> + +<p> +At length he seemed to tear himself away from this spectacle. He shook himself, +looked up and noticed that it was close on nine o’clock. Nana would soon +be coming out, and he would make her tell the truth. And with that he walked on +and recalled to memory the evenings he once passed in that region in the days +when he used to meet her at the door of the theater. +</p> + +<p> +He knew all the shops, and in the gas-laden air he recognized their different +scents, such, for instance, as the strong savor of Russia leather, the perfume +of vanilla emanating from a chocolate dealer’s basement, the savor of +musk blown in whiffs from the open doors of the perfumers. But he did not dare +linger under the gaze of the pale shopwomen, who looked placidly at him as +though they knew him by sight. For one instant he seemed to be studying the +line of little round windows above the shops, as though he had never noticed +them before among the medley of signs. Then once again he went up to the +boulevard and stood still a minute or two. A fine rain was now falling, and the +cold feel of it on his hands calmed him. He thought of his wife who was staying +in a country house near Macon, where her friend Mme de Chezelles had been +ailing a good deal since the autumn. The carriages in the roadway were rolling +through a stream of mud. The country, he thought, must be detestable in such +vile weather. But suddenly he became anxious and re-entered the hot, close +passage down which he strode among the strolling people. A thought struck him: +if Nana were suspicious of his presence there she would be off along the +Galerie Montmartre. +</p> + +<p> +After that the count kept a sharp lookout at the very door of the theater, +though he did not like this passage end, where he was afraid of being +recognized. It was at the corner between the Galerie des Variétés and the +Galerie Saint-Marc, an equivocal corner full of obscure little shops. Of these +last one was a shoemaker’s, where customers never seemed to enter. Then +there were two or three upholsterers’, deep in dust, and a smoky, sleepy +reading room and library, the shaded lamps in which cast a green and slumberous +light all the evening through. There was never anyone in this corner save +well-dressed, patient gentlemen, who prowled about the wreckage peculiar to a +stage door, where drunken sceneshifters and ragged chorus girls congregate. In +front of the theater a single gas jet in a ground-glass globe lit up the +doorway. For a moment or two Muffat thought of questioning Mme Bron; then he +grew afraid lest Nana should get wind of his presence and escape by way of the +boulevard. So he went on the march again and determined to wait till he was +turned out at the closing of the gates, an event which had happened on two +previous occasions. The thought of returning home to his solitary bed simply +wrung his heart with anguish. Every time that golden-haired girls and men in +dirty linen came out and stared at him he returned to his post in front of the +reading room, where, looking in between two advertisements posted on a +windowpane, he was always greeted by the same sight. It was a little old man, +sitting stiff and solitary at the vast table and holding a green newspaper in +his green hands under the green light of one of the lamps. But shortly before +ten o’clock another gentleman, a tall, good-looking, fair man with +well-fitting gloves, was also walking up and down in front of the stage door. +Thereupon at each successive turn the pair treated each other to a suspicious +sidelong glance. The count walked to the corner of the two galleries, which was +adorned with a high mirror, and when he saw himself therein, looking grave and +elegant, he was both ashamed and nervous. +</p> + +<p> +Ten o’clock struck, and suddenly it occurred to Muffat that it would be +very easy to find out whether Nana were in her dressing room or not. He went up +the three steps, crossed the little yellow-painted lobby and slipped into the +court by a door which simply shut with a latch. At that hour of the night the +narrow, damp well of a court, with its pestiferous water closets, its fountain, +its back view of the kitchen stove and the collection of plants with which the +portress used to litter the place, was drenched in dark mist; but the two +walls, rising pierced with windows on either hand, were flaming with light, +since the property room and the firemen’s office were situated on the +ground floor, with the managerial bureau on the left, and on the right and +upstairs the dressing rooms of the company. The mouths of furnaces seemed to be +opening on the outer darkness from top to bottom of this well. The count had at +once marked the light in the windows of the dressing room on the first floor, +and as a man who is comforted and happy, he forgot where he was and stood +gazing upward amid the foul mud and faint decaying smell peculiar to the +premises of this antiquated Parisian building. Big drops were dripping from a +broken waterspout, and a ray of gaslight slipped from Mme Bron’s window +and cast a yellow glare over a patch of moss-clad pavement, over the base of a +wall which had been rotted by water from a sink, over a whole cornerful of +nameless filth amid which old pails and broken crocks lay in fine confusion +round a spindling tree growing mildewed in its pot. A window fastening creaked, +and the count fled. +</p> + +<p> +Nana was certainly going to come down. He returned to his post in front of the +reading room; among its slumbering shadows, which seemed only broken by the +glimmer of a night light, the little old man still sat motionless, his side +face sharply outlined against his newspaper. Then Muffat walked again and this +time took a more prolonged turn and, crossing the large gallery, followed the +Galerie des Variétés as far as that of Feydeau. The last mentioned was cold and +deserted and buried in melancholy shadow. He returned from it, passed by the +theater, turned the corner of the Galerie Saint-Marc and ventured as far as the +Galerie Montmartre, where a sugar-chopping machine in front of a grocer’s +interested him awhile. But when he was taking his third turn he was seized with +such dread lest Nana should escape behind his back that he lost all +self-respect. Thereupon he stationed himself beside the fair gentleman in front +of the very theater. Both exchanged a glance of fraternal humility with which +was mingled a touch of distrust, for it was possible they might yet turn out to +be rivals. Some sceneshifters who came out smoking their pipes between the acts +brushed rudely against them, but neither one nor the other ventured to +complain. Three big wenches with untidy hair and dirty gowns appeared on the +doorstep. They were munching apples and spitting out the cores, but the two men +bowed their heads and patiently braved their impudent looks and rough speeches, +though they were hustled and, as it were, soiled by these trollops, who amused +themselves by pushing each other down upon them. +</p> + +<p> +At that very moment Nana descended the three steps. She grew very pale when she +noticed Muffat. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s you!” she stammered. +</p> + +<p> +The sniggering extra ladies were quite frightened when they recognized her, and +they formed in line and stood up, looking as stiff and serious as servants whom +their mistress has caught behaving badly. The tall fair gentleman had moved +away; he was at once reassured and sad at heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, give me your arm,” Nana continued impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +They walked quietly off. The count had been getting ready to question her and +now found nothing to say. +</p> + +<p> +It was she who in rapid tones told a story to the effect that she had been at +her aunt’s as late as eight o’clock, when, seeing Louiset very much +better, she had conceived the idea of going down to the theater for a few +minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“On some important business?” he queried. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a new piece,” she replied after some slight hesitation. +“They wanted my advice.” +</p> + +<p> +He knew that she was not speaking the truth, but the warm touch of her arm as +it leaned firmly on his own, left him powerless. He felt neither anger nor +rancor after his long, long wait; his one thought was to keep her where she was +now that he had got hold of her. Tomorrow, and not before, he would try and +find out what she had come to her dressing room after. But Nana still appeared +to hesitate; she was manifestly a prey to the sort of secret anguish that +besets people when they are trying to regain lost ground and to initiate a plan +of action. Accordingly, as they turned the corner of the Galerie des Variétés, +she stopped in front of the show in a fan seller’s window. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, that’s pretty,” she whispered; “I mean that +mother-of-pearl mount with the feathers.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, indifferently: +</p> + +<p> +“So you’re seeing me home?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course,” he said, with some surprise, “since your +child’s better.” +</p> + +<p> +She was sorry she had told him that story. Perhaps Louiset was passing through +another crisis! She talked of returning to the Batignolles. But when he offered +to accompany her she did not insist on going. For a second or two she was +possessed with the kind of white-hot fury which a woman experiences when she +feels herself entrapped and must, nevertheless, behave prettily. But in the end +she grew resigned and determined to gain time. If only she could get rid of the +count toward midnight everything would happen as she wished. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s true; you’re a bachelor tonight,” she +murmured. “Your wife doesn’t return till tomorrow, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied Muffat. It embarrassed him somewhat to hear her +talking familiarly about the countess. +</p> + +<p> +But she pressed him further, asking at what time the train was due and wanting +to know whether he were going to the station to meet her. She had begun to walk +more slowly than ever, as though the shops interested her very much. +</p> + +<p> +“Now do look!” she said, pausing anew before a jeweler’s +window, “what a funny bracelet!” +</p> + +<p> +She adored the Passage des Panoramas. The tinsel of the ARTICLE DE PARIS, the +false jewelry, the gilded zinc, the cardboard made to look like leather, had +been the passion of her early youth. It remained, and when she passed the +shop-windows she could not tear herself away from them. It was the same with +her today as when she was a ragged, slouching child who fell into reveries in +front of the chocolate maker’s sweet-stuff shows or stood listening to a +musical box in a neighboring shop or fell into supreme ecstasies over cheap, +vulgarly designed knickknacks, such as nutshell workboxes, ragpickers’ +baskets for holding toothpicks, Vendome columns and Luxor obelisks on which +thermometers were mounted. But that evening she was too much agitated and +looked at things without seeing them. When all was said and done, it bored her +to think she was not free. An obscure revolt raged within her, and amid it all +she felt a wild desire to do something foolish. It was a great thing gained, +forsooth, to be mistress of men of position! She had been devouring the +prince’s substance and Steiner’s, too, with her childish caprices, +and yet she had no notion where her money went. Even at this time of day her +flat in the Boulevard Haussmann was not entirely furnished. The drawing room +alone was finished, and with its red satin upholsteries and excess of +ornamentation and furniture it struck a decidedly false note. Her creditors, +moreover, would now take to tormenting her more than ever before whenever she +had no money on hand, a fact which caused her constant surprise, seeing that +she was wont to quote her self as a model of economy. For a month past that +thief Steiner had been scarcely able to pay up his thousand francs on the +occasions when she threatened to kick him out of doors in case he failed to +bring them. As to Muffat, he was an idiot: he had no notion as to what it was +usual to give, and she could not, therefore, grow angry with him on the score +of miserliness. Oh, how gladly she would have turned all these folks off had +she not repeated to herself a score of times daily a whole string of economical +maxims! +</p> + +<p> +One ought to be sensible, Zoé kept saying every morning, and Nana herself was +constantly haunted by the queenly vision seen at Chamont. It had now become an +almost religious memory with her, and through dint of being ceaselessly +recalled it grew even more grandiose. And for these reasons, though trembling +with repressed indignation, she now hung submissively on the count’s arm +as they went from window to window among the fast-diminishing crowd. The +pavement was drying outside, and a cool wind blew along the gallery, swept the +close hot air up beneath the glass that imprisoned it and shook the colored +lanterns and the lines of gas jets and the giant fan which was flaring away +like a set piece in an illumination. At the door of the restaurant a waiter was +putting out the gas, while the motionless attendants in the empty, glaring +shops looked as though they had dropped off to sleep with their eyes open. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what a duck!” continued Nana, retracing her steps as far as +the last of the shops in order to go into ecstasies over a porcelain greyhound +standing with raised forepaw in front of a nest hidden among roses. +</p> + +<p> +At length they quitted the passage, but she refused the offer of a cab. It was +very pleasant out she said; besides, they were in no hurry, and it would be +charming to return home on foot. When they were in front of the Café Anglais +she had a sudden longing to eat oysters. Indeed, she said that owing to +Louiset’s illness she had tasted nothing since morning. Muffat dared not +oppose her. Yet as he did not in those days wish to be seen about with her he +asked for a private supper room and hurried to it along the corridors. She +followed him with the air of a woman familiar with the house, and they were on +the point of entering a private room, the door of which a waiter held open, +when from a neighboring saloon, whence issued a perfect tempest of shouts and +laughter, a man rapidly emerged. It was Daguenet. +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove, it’s Nana!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +The count had briskly disappeared into the private room, leaving the door ajar +behind him. But Daguenet winked behind his round shoulders and added in +chaffing tones: +</p> + +<p> +“The deuce, but you’re doing nicely! You catch ’em in the +Tuileries nowadays!” +</p> + +<p> +Nana smiled and laid a finger on her lips to beg him to be silent. She could +see he was very much exalted, and yet she was glad to have met him, for she +still felt tenderly toward him, and that despite the nasty way he had cut her +when in the company of fashionable ladies. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing now?” she asked amicably. +</p> + +<p> +“Becoming respectable. Yes indeed, I’m thinking of getting +married.” +</p> + +<p> +She shrugged her shoulders with a pitying air. But he jokingly continued to the +effect that to be only just gaining enough on ’change to buy ladies +bouquets could scarcely be called an income, provided you wanted to look +respectable too! His three hundred thousand francs had only lasted him eighteen +months! He wanted to be practical, and he was going to marry a girl with a huge +dowry and end off as a PREFET, like his father before him! Nana still smiled +incredulously. She nodded in the direction of the saloon: “Who are you +with in there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, a whole gang,” he said, forgetting all about his projects +under the influence of returning intoxication. “Just think! Léa is +telling us about her trip in Egypt. Oh, it’s screaming! There’s a +bathing story—” +</p> + +<p> +And he told the story while Nana lingered complaisantly. They had ended by +leaning up against the wall in the corridor, facing one another. Gas jets were +flaring under the low ceiling, and a vague smell of cookery hung about the +folds of the hangings. Now and again, in order to hear each other’s +voices when the din in the saloon became louder than ever, they had to lean +well forward. Every few seconds, however, a waiter with an armful of dishes +found his passage barred and disturbed them. But they did not cease their talk +for that; on the contrary, they stood close up to the walls and, amid the +uproar of the supper party and the jostlings of the waiters, chatted as quietly +as if they were by their own firesides. +</p> + +<p> +“Just look at that,” whispered the young man, pointing to the door +of the private room through which Muffat had vanished. +</p> + +<p> +Both looked. The door was quivering slightly; a breath of air seemed to be +disturbing it, and at last, very, very slowly and without the least sound, it +was shut to. They exchanged a silent chuckle. The count must be looking +charmingly happy all alone in there! +</p> + +<p> +“By the by,” she asked, “have you read Fauchery’s +article about me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, ‘The Golden Fly,’” replied Daguenet; “I +didn’t mention it to you as I was afraid of paining you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Paining me—why? His article’s a very long one.” +</p> + +<p> +She was flattered to think that the Figaro should concern itself about her +person. But failing the explanations of her hairdresser Francis, who had +brought her the paper, she would not have understood that it was she who was in +question. Daguenet scrutinized her slyly, sneering in his chaffing way. Well, +well, since she was pleased, everybody else ought to be. +</p> + +<p> +“By your leave!” shouted a waiter, holding a dish of iced cheese in +both hands as he separated them. +</p> + +<p> +Nana had stepped toward the little saloon where Muffat was waiting. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, good-by!” continued Daguenet. “Go and find your +cuckold again.” +</p> + +<p> +But she halted afresh. +</p> + +<p> +“Why d’you call him cuckold?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because he is a cuckold, by Jove!” +</p> + +<p> +She came and leaned against the wall again; she was profoundly interested. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” she said simply. +</p> + +<p> +“What, d’you mean to say you didn’t know that? Why, my dear +girl, his wife’s Fauchery’s mistress. It probably began in the +country. Some time ago, when I was coming here, Fauchery left me, and I suspect +he’s got an assignation with her at his place tonight. They’ve made +up a story about a journey, I fancy.” +</p> + +<p> +Overcome with surprise, Nana remained voiceless. +</p> + +<p> +“I suspected it,” she said at last, slapping her leg. “I +guessed it by merely looking at her on the highroad that day. To think of its +being possible for an honest woman to deceive her husband, and with that +blackguard Fauchery too! He’ll teach her some pretty things!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it isn’t her trial trip,” muttered Daguenet wickedly. +“Perhaps she knows as much about it as he does.” +</p> + +<p> +At this Nana gave vent to an indignant exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed she does! What a nice world! It’s too foul!” +</p> + +<p> +“By your leave!” shouted a waiter, laden with bottles, as he +separated them. +</p> + +<p> +Daguenet drew her forward again and held her hand for a second or two. He +adopted his crystalline tone of voice, the voice with notes as sweet as those +of a harmonica, which had gained him his success among the ladies of +Nana’s type. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-by, darling! You know I love you always.” +</p> + +<p> +She disengaged her hand from his, and while a thunder of shouts and bravos, +which made the door in the saloon tremble again, almost drowned her words she +smilingly remarked: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s over between us, stupid! But that doesn’t matter. Do +come up one of these days, and we’ll have a chat.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she became serious again and in the outraged tones of a respectable woman: +</p> + +<p> +“So he’s a cuckold, is he?” she cried. “Well, that IS a +nuisance, dear boy. They’ve always sickened me, cuckolds have.” +</p> + +<p> +When at length she went into the private room she noticed that Muffat was +sitting resignedly on a narrow divan with pale face and twitching hands. He did +not reproach her at all, and she, greatly moved, was divided between feelings +of pity and of contempt. The poor man! To think of his being so unworthily +cheated by a vile wife! She had a good mind to throw her arms round his neck +and comfort him. But it was only fair all the same! He was a fool with women, +and this would teach him a lesson! Nevertheless, pity overcame her. She did not +get rid of him as she had determined to do after the oysters had been +discussed. They scarcely stayed a quarter of an hour in the Café Anglais, and +together they went into the house in the Boulevard Haussmann. It was then +eleven. Before midnight she would have easily have discovered some means of +getting rid of him kindly. +</p> + +<p> +In the anteroom, however, she took the precaution of giving Zoé an order. +“You’ll look out for him, and you’ll tell him not to make a +noise if the other man’s still with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“But where shall I put him, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Keep him in the kitchen. It’s more safe.” +</p> + +<p> +In the room inside Muffat was already taking off his overcoat. A big fire was +burning on the hearth. It was the same room as of old, with its rosewood +furniture and its hangings and chair coverings of figured damask with the large +blue flowers on a gray background. On two occasions Nana had thought of having +it redone, the first in black velvet, the second in white satin with bows, but +directly Steiner consented she demanded the money that these changes would cost +simply with a view to pillaging him. She had, indeed, only indulged in a tiger +skin rug for the hearth and a cut-glass hanging lamp. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not sleepy; I’m not going to bed,” she said the +moment they were shut in together. +</p> + +<p> +The count obeyed her submissively, as became a man no longer afraid of being +seen. His one care now was to avoid vexing her. +</p> + +<p> +“As you will,” he murmured. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, he took his boots off, too, before seating himself in front of +the fire. One of Nana’s pleasures consisted in undressing herself in +front of the mirror on her wardrobe door, which reflected her whole height. She +would let everything slip off her in turn and then would stand perfectly naked +and gaze and gaze in complete oblivion of all around her. Passion for her own +body, ecstasy over her satin skin and the supple contours of her shape, would +keep her serious, attentive and absorbed in the love of herself. The +hairdresser frequently found her standing thus and would enter without her once +turning to look at him. Muffat used to grow angry then, but he only succeeded +in astonishing her. What was coming over the man? She was doing it to please +herself, not other people. +</p> + +<p> +That particular evening she wanted to have a better view of herself, and she +lit the six candles attached to the frame of the mirror. But while letting her +shift slip down she paused. She had been preoccupied for some moments past, and +a question was on her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t read the Figaro article, have you? The paper’s +on the table.” Daguenet’s laugh had recurred to her recollections, +and she was harassed by a doubt. If that Fauchery had slandered her she would +be revenged. +</p> + +<p> +“They say that it’s about me,” she continued, affecting +indifference. “What’s your notion, eh, darling?” +</p> + +<p> +And letting go her shift and waiting till Muffat should have done reading, she +stood naked. Muffat was reading slowly Fauchery’s article entitled +“The Golden Fly,” describing the life of a harlot descended from +four or five generations of drunkards and tainted in her blood by a cumulative +inheritance of misery and drink, which in her case has taken the form of a +nervous exaggeration of the sexual instinct. She has shot up to womanhood in +the slums and on the pavements of Paris, and tall, handsome and as superbly +grown as a dunghill plant, she avenges the beggars and outcasts of whom she is +the ultimate product. With her the rottenness that is allowed to ferment among +the populace is carried upward and rots the aristocracy. She becomes a blind +power of nature, a leaven of destruction, and unwittingly she corrupts and +disorganizes all Paris, churning it between her snow-white thighs as milk is +monthly churned by housewives. And it was at the end of this article that the +comparison with a fly occurred, a fly of sunny hue which has flown up out of +the dung, a fly which sucks in death on the carrion tolerated by the roadside +and then buzzing, dancing and glittering like a precious stone enters the +windows of palaces and poisons the men within by merely settling on them in her +flight. +</p> + +<p> +Muffat lifted his head; his eyes stared fixedly; he gazed at the fire. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” asked Nana. +</p> + +<p> +But he did not answer. It seemed as though he wanted to read the article again. +A cold, shivering feeling was creeping from his scalp to his shoulders. This +article had been written anyhow. The phrases were wildly extravagant; the +unexpected epigrams and quaint collocations of words went beyond all bounds. +Yet notwithstanding this, he was struck by what he had read, for it had rudely +awakened within him much that for months past he had not cared to think about. +</p> + +<p> +He looked up. Nana had grown absorbed in her ecstatic self-contemplation. She +was bending her neck and was looking attentively in the mirror at a little +brown mark above her right haunch. She was touching it with the tip of her +finger and by dint of bending backward was making it stand out more clearly +than ever. Situated where it was, it doubtless struck her as both quaint and +pretty. After that she studied other parts of her body with an amused +expression and much of the vicious curiosity of a child. The sight of herself +always astonished her, and she would look as surprised and ecstatic as a young +girl who has discovered her puberty. Slowly, slowly, she spread out her arms in +order to give full value to her figure, which suggested the torso of a plump +Venus. She bent herself this way and that and examined herself before and +behind, stooping to look at the side view of her bosom and at the sweeping +contours of her thighs. And she ended with a strange amusement which consisted +of swinging to right and left, her knees apart and her body swaying from the +waist with the perpetual jogging, twitching movements peculiar to an oriental +dancer in the danse du ventre. +</p> + +<p> +Muffat sat looking at her. She frightened him. The newspaper had dropped from +his hand. For a moment he saw her as she was, and he despised himself. Yes, it +was just that; she had corrupted his life; he already felt himself tainted to +his very marrow by impurities hitherto undreamed of. Everything was now +destined to rot within him, and in the twinkling of an eye he understood what +this evil entailed. He saw the ruin brought about by this kind of +“leaven”—himself poisoned, his family destroyed, a bit of the +social fabric cracking and crumbling. And unable to take his eyes from the +sight, he sat looking fixedly at her, striving to inspire himself with loathing +for her nakedness. +</p> + +<p> +Nana no longer moved. With an arm behind her neck, one hand clasped in the +other, and her elbows far apart, she was throwing back her head so that he +could see a foreshortened reflection of her half-closed eyes, her parted lips, +her face clothed with amorous laughter. Her masses of yellow hair were +unknotted behind, and they covered her back with the fell of a lioness. +</p> + +<p> +Bending back thus, she displayed her solid Amazonian waist and firm bosom, +where strong muscles moved under the satin texture of the skin. A delicate +line, to which the shoulder and the thigh added their slight undulations, ran +from one of her elbows to her foot, and Muffat’s eyes followed this +tender profile and marked how the outlines of the fair flesh vanished in golden +gleams and how its rounded contours shone like silk in the candlelight. He +thought of his old dread of Woman, of the Beast of the Scriptures, at once lewd +and wild. Nana was all covered with fine hair; a russet made her body velvety, +while the Beast was apparent in the almost equine development of her flanks, in +the fleshy exuberances and deep hollows of her body, which lent her sex the +mystery and suggestiveness lurking in their shadows. She was, indeed, that +Golden Creature, blind as brute force, whose very odor ruined the world. Muffat +gazed and gazed as a man possessed, till at last, when he had shut his eyes in +order to escape it, the Brute reappeared in the darkness of the brain, larger, +more terrible, more suggestive in its attitude. Now, he understood, it would +remain before his eyes, in his very flesh, forever. +</p> + +<p> +But Nana was gathering herself together. A little thrill of tenderness seemed +to have traversed her members. Her eyes were moist; she tried, as it were, to +make herself small, as though she could feel herself better thus. Then she +threw her head and bosom back and, melting, as it were, in one great bodily +caress, she rubbed her cheeks coaxingly, first against one shoulder, then +against the other. Her lustful mouth breathed desire over her limbs. She put +out her lips, kissed herself long in the neighborhood of her armpit and laughed +at the other Nana who also was kissing herself in the mirror. +</p> + +<p> +Then Muffat gave a long sigh. This solitary pleasure exasperated him. Suddenly +all his resolutions were swept away as though by a mighty wind. In a fit of +brutal passion he caught Nana to his breast and threw her down on the carpet. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave me alone!” she cried. “You’re hurting me!” +</p> + +<p> +He was conscious of his undoing; he recognized in her stupidity, vileness and +falsehood, and he longed to possess her, poisoned though she was. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’re a fool!” she said savagely when he let her get +up. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, she grew calm. He would go now. She slipped on a nightgown +trimmed with lace and came and sat down on the floor in front of the fire. It +was her favorite position. When she again questioned him about Fauchery’s +article Muffat replied vaguely, for he wanted to avoid a scene. Besides, she +declared that she had found a weak spot in Fauchery. And with that she relapsed +into a long silence and reflected on how to dismiss the count. She would have +liked to do it in an agreeable way, for she was still a good-natured wench, and +it bored her to cause others pain, especially in the present instance where the +man was a cuckold. The mere thought of his being that had ended by rousing her +sympathies! +</p> + +<p> +“So you expect your wife tomorrow morning?” she said at last. +</p> + +<p> +Muffat had stretched himself in an armchair. He looked drowsy, and his limbs +were tired. He gave a sign of assent. Nana sat gazing seriously at him with a +dull tumult in her brain. Propped on one leg, among her slightly rumpled laces +she was holding one of her bare feet between her hands and was turning it +mechanically about and about. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you been married long?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Nineteen years,” replied the count +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! And is your wife amiable? Do you get on comfortably together?” +</p> + +<p> +He was silent. Then with some embarrassment: +</p> + +<p> +“You know I’ve begged you never to talk of those matters.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, why’s that?” she cried, beginning to grow vexed +directly. “I’m sure I won’t eat your wife if I DO talk about +her. Dear boy, why, every woman’s worth—” +</p> + +<p> +But she stopped for fear of saying too much. She contented herself by assuming +a superior expression, since she considered herself extremely kind. The poor +fellow, he needed delicate handling! Besides, she had been struck by a +laughable notion, and she smiled as she looked him carefully over. +</p> + +<p> +“I say,” she continued, “I haven’t told you the story +about you that Fauchery’s circulating. There’s a viper, if you +like! I don’t bear him any ill will, because his article may be all +right, but he’s a regular viper all the same.” +</p> + +<p> +And laughing more gaily than ever, she let go her foot and, crawling along the +floor, came and propped herself against the count’s knees. +</p> + +<p> +“Now just fancy, he swears you were still like a babe when you married +your wife. You were still like that, eh? Is it true, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes pressed for an answer, and she raised her hands to his shoulders and +began shaking him in order to extract the desired confession. +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt,” he at last made answer gravely. +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon she again sank down at his feet. She was shaking with uproarious +laughter, and she stuttered and dealt him little slaps. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it’s too funny! There’s no one like you; you’re a +marvel. But, my poor pet, you must just have been stupid! When a man +doesn’t know—oh, it is so comical! Good heavens, I should have +liked to have seen you! And it came off well, did it? Now tell me something +about it! Oh, do, do tell me!” +</p> + +<p> +She overwhelmed him with questions, forgetting nothing and requiring the +veriest details. And she laughed such sudden merry peals which doubled her up +with mirth, and her chemise slipped and got turned down to such an extent, and +her skin looked so golden in the light of the big fire, that little by little +the count described to her his bridal night. He no longer felt at all awkward. +He himself began to be amused at last as he spoke. Only he kept choosing his +phrases, for he still had a certain sense of modesty. The young woman, now +thoroughly interested, asked him about the countess. According to his account, +she had a marvelous figure but was a regular iceberg for all that. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, get along with you!” he muttered indolently. “You have +no cause to be jealous.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana had ceased laughing, and she now resumed her former position and, with her +back to the fire, brought her knees up under her chin with her clasped hands. +Then in a serious tone she declared: +</p> + +<p> +“It doesn’t pay, dear boy, to look like a ninny with one’s +wife the first night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” queried the astonished count. +</p> + +<p> +“Because,” she replied slowly, assuming a doctorial expression. +</p> + +<p> +And with that she looked as if she were delivering a lecture and shook her head +at him. In the end, however, she condescended to explain herself more lucidly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, look here! I know how it all happens. Yes, dearie, women +don’t like a man to be foolish. They don’t say anything because +there’s such a thing as modesty, you know, but you may be sure they think +about it for a jolly long time to come. And sooner or later, when a man’s +been an ignoramus, they go and make other arrangements. That’s it, my +pet.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not seem to understand. Whereupon she grew more definite still. She +became maternal and taught him his lesson out of sheer goodness of heart, as a +friend might do. Since she had discovered him to be a cuckold the information +had weighed on her spirits; she was madly anxious to discuss his position with +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens! I’m talking of things that don’t concern me. +I’ve said what I have because everybody ought to be happy. We’re +having a chat, eh? Well then, you’re to answer me as straight as you +can.” +</p> + +<p> +But she stopped to change her position, for she was burning herself. +“It’s jolly hot, eh? My back’s roasted. Wait a second. +I’ll cook my tummy a bit. That’s what’s good for the +aches!” +</p> + +<p> +And when she had turned round with her breast to the fire and her feet tucked +under her: +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see,” she said; “you don’t sleep with your wife +any longer?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I swear to you I don’t,” said Muffat, dreading a scene. +</p> + +<p> +“And you believe she’s really a stick?” +</p> + +<p> +He bowed his head in the affirmative. +</p> + +<p> +“And that’s why you love me? Answer me! I shan’t be +angry.” +</p> + +<p> +He repeated the same movement. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well then,” she concluded. “I suspected as much! Oh, +the poor pet. Do you know my aunt Lerat? When she comes get her to tell you the +story about the fruiterer who lives opposite her. Just fancy that +man—Damn it, how hot this fire is! I must turn round. I’m going to +roast my left side now.” And as she presented her side to the blaze a +droll idea struck her, and like a good-tempered thing, she made fun of herself +for she was delighted to see that she was looking so plump and pink in the +light of the coal fire. +</p> + +<p> +“I look like a goose, eh? Yes, that’s it! I’m a goose on the +spit, and I’m turning, turning and cooking in my own juice, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +And she was once more indulging in a merry fit of laughter when a sound of +voices and slamming doors became audible. Muffat was surprised, and he +questioned her with a look. She grew serious, and an anxious expression came +over her face. It must be Zoé’s cat, a cursed beast that broke +everything. It was half-past twelve o’clock. How long was she going to +bother herself in her cuckold’s behalf? Now that the other man had come +she ought to get him out of the way, and that quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“What were you saying?” asked the count complaisantly, for he was +charmed to see her so kind to him. +</p> + +<p> +But in her desire to be rid of him she suddenly changed her mood, became brutal +and did not take care what she was saying. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes! The fruiterer and his wife. Well, my dear fellow, they never +once touched one another! Not the least bit! She was very keen on it, you +understand, but he, the ninny, didn’t know it. He was so green that he +thought her a stick, and so he went elsewhere and took up with streetwalkers, +who treated him to all sorts of nastiness, while she, on her part, made up for +it beautifully with fellows who were a lot slyer than her greenhorn of a +husband. And things always turn out that way through people not understanding +one another. I know it, I do!” +</p> + +<p> +Muffat was growing pale. At last he was beginning to understand her allusions, +and he wanted to make her keep silence. But she was in full swing. +</p> + +<p> +“No, hold your tongue, will you? If you weren’t brutes you would be +as nice with your wives as you are with us, and if your wives weren’t +geese they would take as much pains to keep you as we do to get you. +That’s the way to behave. Yes, my duck, you can put that in your pipe and +smoke it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not talk of honest women,” he said in a hard voice. “You +do not know them.” +</p> + +<p> +At that Nana rose to her knees. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know them! Why, they aren’t even clean, your honest +women aren’t! They aren’t even clean! I defy you to find me one who +would dare show herself as I am doing. Oh, you make me laugh with your honest +women. Don’t drive me to it; don’t oblige me to tell you things I +may regret afterward.” +</p> + +<p> +The count, by way of answer, mumbled something insulting. Nana became quite +pale in her turn. For some seconds she looked at him without speaking. Then in +her decisive way: +</p> + +<p> +“What would you do if your wife were deceiving you?” +</p> + +<p> +He made a threatening gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and if I were to?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you,” he muttered with a shrug of his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +Nana was certainly not spiteful. Since the beginning of the conversation she +had been strongly tempted to throw his cuckold’s reputation in his teeth, +but she had resisted. She would have liked to confess him quietly on the +subject, but he had begun to exasperate her at last. The matter ought to stop +now. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, my dearie,” she continued, “I don’t know +what you’re getting at with me. For two hours past you’ve been +worrying my life out. Now do just go and find your wife, for she’s at it +with Fauchery. Yes, it’s quite correct; they’re in the Rue +Taitbout, at the corner of the Rue de Provence. You see, I’m giving you +the address.” +</p> + +<p> +Then triumphantly, as she saw Muffat stagger to his feet like an ox under the +hammer: +</p> + +<p> +“If honest women must meddle in our affairs and take our sweethearts from +us—Oh, you bet they’re a nice lot, those honest women!” +</p> + +<p> +But she was unable to proceed. With a terrible push he had cast her full length +on the floor and, lifting his heel, he seemed on the point of crushing in her +head in order to silence her. For the twinkling of an eye she felt sickening +dread. Blinded with rage, he had begun beating about the room like a maniac. +Then his choking silence and the struggle with which he was shaken melted her +to tears. She felt a mortal regret and, rolling herself up in front of the fire +so as to roast her right side, she undertook the task of comforting him. +</p> + +<p> +“I take my oath, darling, I thought you knew it all. Otherwise I +shouldn’t have spoken; you may be sure. But perhaps it isn’t true. +I don’t say anything for certain. I’ve been told it, and people are +talking about it, but what does that prove? Oh, get along! You’re very +silly to grow riled about it. If I were a man I shouldn’t care a rush for +the women! All the women are alike, you see, high or low; they’re all +rowdy and the rest of it.” +</p> + +<p> +In a fit of self-abnegation she was severe on womankind, for she wished thus to +lessen the cruelty of her blow. But he did not listen to her or hear what she +said. With fumbling movements he had put on his boots and his overcoat. For a +moment longer he raved round, and then in a final outburst, finding himself +near the door, he rushed from the room. Nana was very much annoyed. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well! A prosperous trip to you!” she continued aloud, though +she was now alone. “He’s polite, too, that fellow is, when +he’s spoken to! And I had to defend myself at that! Well, I was the first +to get back my temper and I made plenty of excuses, I’m thinking! +Besides, he had been getting on my nerves!” +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, she was not happy and sat scratching her legs with both hands. +Then she took high ground: +</p> + +<p> +“Tut, tut, it isn’t my fault if he is a cuckold!” +</p> + +<p> +And toasted on every side and as hot as a roast bird, she went and buried +herself under the bedclothes after ringing for Zoé to usher in the other man, +who was waiting in the kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +Once outside, Muffat began walking at a furious pace. A fresh shower had just +fallen, and he kept slipping on the greasy pavement. When he looked +mechanically up into the sky he saw ragged, soot-colored clouds scudding in +front of the moon. At this hour of the night passers-by were becoming few and +far between in the Boulevard Haussmann. He skirted the enclosures round the +opera house in his search for darkness, and as he went along he kept mumbling +inconsequent phrases. That girl had been lying. She had invented her story out +of sheer stupidity and cruelty. He ought to have crushed her head when he had +it under his heel. After all was said and done, the business was too shameful. +Never would he see her; never would he touch her again, or if he did he would +be miserably weak. And with that he breathed hard, as though he were free once +more. Oh, that naked, cruel monster, roasting away like any goose and slavering +over everything that he had respected for forty years back. The moon had come +out, and the empty street was bathed in white light. He felt afraid, and he +burst into a great fit of sobbing, for he had grown suddenly hopeless and +maddened as though he had sunk into a fathomless void. +</p> + +<p> +“My God!” he stuttered out. “It’s finished! +There’s nothing left now!” +</p> + +<p> +Along the boulevards belated people were hurrying. He tried hard to be calm, +and as the story told him by that courtesan kept recurring to his burning +consciousness, he wanted to reason the matter out. The countess was coming up +from Mme de Chezelles’s country house tomorrow morning. Yet nothing, in +fact, could have prevented her from returning to Paris the night before and +passing it with that man. He now began recalling to mind certain details of +their stay at Les Fondettes. One evening, for instance, he had surprised Sabine +in the shade of some trees, when she was so much agitated as to be unable to +answer his questions. The man had been present; why should she not be with him +now? The more he thought about it the more possible the whole story became, and +he ended by thinking it natural and even inevitable. While he was in his shirt +sleeves in the house of a harlot his wife was undressing in her lover’s +room. Nothing could be simpler or more logical! Reasoning in this way, he +forced himself to keep cool. He felt as if there were a great downward movement +in the direction of fleshly madness, a movement which, as it grew, was +overcoming the whole world round about him. Warm images pursued him in +imagination. A naked Nana suddenly evoked a naked Sabine. At this vision, which +seemed to bring them together in shameless relationship and under the influence +of the same lusts, he literally stumbled, and in the road a cab nearly ran over +him. Some women who had come out of a cafe jostled him amid loud laughter. Then +a fit of weeping once more overcame him, despite all his efforts to the +contrary, and, not wishing to shed tears in the presence of others, he plunged +into a dark and empty street. It was the Rue Rossini, and along its silent +length he wept like a child. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s over with us,” he said in hollow tones. +“There’s nothing left us now, nothing left us now!” +</p> + +<p> +He wept so violently that he had to lean up against a door as he buried his +face in his wet hands. A noise of footsteps drove him away. He felt a shame and +a fear which made him fly before people’s faces with the restless step of +a bird of darkness. When passers-by met him on the pavement he did his best to +look and walk in a leisurely way, for he fancied they were reading his secret +in the very swing of his shoulders. He had followed the Rue de la Grange +Bateliere as far as the Rue du Faubourg Montmartre, where the brilliant +lamplight surprised him, and he retraced his steps. For nearly an hour he +traversed the district thus, choosing always the darkest corners. Doubtless +there was some goal whither his steps were patiently, instinctively, leading +him through a labyrinth of endless turnings. At length he lifted his eyes up it +a street corner. He had reached his destination, the point where the Rue +Taitbout and the Rue de la Provence met. He had taken an hour amid his painful +mental sufferings to arrive at a place he could have reached in five minutes. +One morning a month ago he remembered going up to Fauchery’s rooms to +thank him for a notice of a ball at the Tuileries, in which the journalist had +mentioned him. The flat was between the ground floor and the first story and +had a row of small square windows which were half hidden by the colossal +signboard belonging to a shop. The last window on the left was bisected by a +brilliant band of lamplight coming from between the half-closed curtains. And +he remained absorbed and expectant, with his gaze fixed on this shining streak. +</p> + +<p> +The moon had disappeared in an inky sky, whence an icy drizzle was falling. Two +o’clock struck at the Trinite. The Rue de Provence and the Rue Taitbout +lay in shadow, bestarred at intervals by bright splashes of light from the gas +lamps, which in the distance were merged in yellow mist. Muffat did not move +from where he was standing. That was the room. He remembered it now: it had +hangings of red “andrinople,” and a Louis XIII bed stood at one end +of it. The lamp must be standing on the chimney piece to the right. Without +doubt they had gone to bed, for no shadows passed across the window, and the +bright streak gleamed as motionless as the light of a night lamp. With his eyes +still uplifted he began forming a plan; he would ring the bell, go upstairs +despite the porter’s remonstrances, break the doors in with a push of his +shoulder and fall upon them in the very bed without giving them time to unlace +their arms. For one moment the thought that he had no weapon upon him gave him +pause, but directly afterward he decided to throttle them. He returned to the +consideration of his project, and he perfected it while waiting for some sign, +some indication, which should bring certainty with it. +</p> + +<p> +Had a woman’s shadow only shown itself at that moment he would have rung. +But the thought that perhaps he was deceiving himself froze him. How could he +be certain? Doubts began to return. His wife could not be with that man. It was +monstrous and impossible. Nevertheless, he stayed where he was and was +gradually overcome by a species of torpor which merged into sheer feebleness +while he waited long, and the fixity of his gaze induced hallucinations. +</p> + +<p> +A shower was falling. Two policemen were approaching, and he was forced to +leave the doorway where he had taken shelter. When these were lost to view in +the Rue de Provence he returned to his post, wet and shivering. The luminous +streak still traversed the window, and this time he was going away for good +when a shadow crossed it. It moved so quickly that he thought he had deceived +himself. But first one and then another black thing followed quickly after it, +and there was a regular commotion in the room. Riveted anew to the pavement, he +experienced an intolerable burning sensation in his inside as he waited to find +out the meaning of it all. Outlines of arms and legs flitted after one another, +and an enormous hand traveled about with the silhouette of a water jug. He +distinguished nothing clearly, but he thought he recognized a woman’s +headdress. And he disputed the point with himself; it might well have been +Sabine’s hair, only the neck did not seem sufficiently slim. At that hour +of the night he had lost the power of recognition and of action. In this +terrible agony of uncertainty his inside caused him such acute suffering that +he pressed against the door in order to calm himself, shivering like a man in +rags, as he did so. Then seeing that despite everything he could not turn his +eyes away from the window, his anger changed into a fit of moralizing. He +fancied himself a deputy; he was haranguing an assembly, loudly denouncing +debauchery, prophesying national ruin. And he reconstructed Fauchery’s +article on the poisoned fly, and he came before the house and declared that +morals such as these, which could only be paralleled in the days of the later +Roman Empire, rendered society an impossibility; that did him good. But the +shadows had meanwhile disappeared. Doubtless they had gone to bed again, and, +still watching, he continued waiting where he was. +</p> + +<p> +Three o’clock struck, then four, but he could not take his departure. +When showers fell he buried himself in a corner of the doorway, his legs +splashed with wet. Nobody passed by now, and occasionally his eyes would close, +as though scorched by the streak of light, which he kept watching obstinately, +fixedly, with idiotic persistence. On two subsequent occasions the shadows +flitted about, repeating the same gestures and agitating the silhouette of the +same gigantic jug, and twice quiet was re-established, and the night lamp again +glowed discreetly out. These shadows only increased his uncertainty. Then, too, +a sudden idea soothed his brain while it postponed the decisive moment. After +all, he had only to wait for the woman when she left the house. He could quite +easily recognize Sabine. Nothing could be simpler, and there would be no +scandal, and he would be sure of things one way or the other. It was only +necessary to stay where he was. Among all the confused feelings which had been +agitating him he now merely felt a dull need of certain knowledge. But sheer +weariness and vacancy began lulling him to sleep under his doorway, and by way +of distraction he tried to reckon up how long he would have to wait. Sabine was +to be at the station toward nine o’clock; that meant about four hours and +a half more. He was very patient; he would even have been content not to move +again, and he found a certain charm in fancying that his night vigil would last +through eternity. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the streak of light was gone. This extremely simple event was to him +an unforeseen catastrophe, at once troublesome and disagreeable. Evidently they +had just put the lamp out and were going to sleep. It was reasonable enough at +that hour, but he was irritated thereat, for now the darkened window ceased to +interest him. He watched it for a quarter of an hour longer and then grew tired +and, leaving the doorway, took a turn upon the pavement. Until five +o’clock he walked to and fro, looking upward from time to time. The +window seemed a dead thing, and now and then he asked himself if he had not +dreamed that shadows had been dancing up there behind the panes. An intolerable +sense of fatigue weighed him down, a dull, heavy feeling, under the influence +of which he forgot what he was waiting for at that particular street corner. He +kept stumbling on the pavement and starting into wakefulness with the icy +shudder of a man who does not know where he is. Nothing seemed to justify the +painful anxiety he was inflicting on himself. Since those people were +asleep—well then, let them sleep! What good could it do mixing in their +affairs? It was very dark; no one would ever know anything about this +night’s doings. And with that every sentiment within him, down to +curiosity itself, took flight before the longing to have done with it all and +to find relief somewhere. The cold was increasing, and the street was becoming +insufferable. Twice he walked away and slowly returned, dragging one foot +behind the other, only to walk farther away next time. It was all over; nothing +was left him now, and so he went down the whole length of the boulevard and did +not return. +</p> + +<p> +His was a melancholy progress through the streets. He walked slowly, never +changing his pace and simply keeping along the walls of the houses. +</p> + +<p> +His boot heels re-echoed, and he saw nothing but his shadow moving at his side. +As he neared each successive gaslight it grew taller and immediately afterward +diminished. But this lulled him and occupied him mechanically. He never knew +afterward where he had been; it seemed as if he had dragged himself round and +round in a circle for hours. One reminiscence only was very distinctly retained +by him. Without his being able to explain how it came about he found himself +with his face pressed close against the gate at the end of the Passage des +Panoramas and his two hands grasping the bars. He did not shake them but, his +whole heart swelling with emotion, he simply tried to look into the passage. +But he could make nothing out clearly, for shadows flooded the whole length of +the deserted gallery, and the wind, blowing hard down the Rue Saint-Marc, +puffed in his face with the damp breath of a cellar. For a time he tried +doggedly to see into the place, and then, awakening from his dream, he was +filled with astonishment and asked himself what he could possibly be seeking +for at that hour and in that position, for he had pressed against the railings +so fiercely that they had left their mark on his face. Then he went on tramp +once more. He was hopeless, and his heart was full of infinite sorrow, for he +felt, amid all those shadows, that he was evermore betrayed and alone. +</p> + +<p> +Day broke at last. It was the murky dawn that follows winter nights and looks +so melancholy from muddy Paris pavements. Muffat had returned into the wide +streets, which were then in course of construction on either side of the new +opera house. Soaked by the rain and cut up by cart wheels, the chalky soil had +become a lake of liquid mire. But he never looked to see where he was stepping +and walked on and on, slipping and regaining his footing as he went. The +awakening of Paris, with its gangs of sweepers and early workmen trooping to +their destinations, added to his troubles as day brightened. People stared at +him in surprise as he went by with scared look and soaked hat and muddy +clothes. For a long while he sought refuge against palings and among +scaffoldings, his desolate brain haunted by the single remaining thought that +he was very miserable. +</p> + +<p> +Then he thought of God. The sudden idea of divine help, of superhuman +consolation, surprised him, as though it were something unforeseen and +extraordinary. The image of M. Venot was evoked thereby, and he saw his little +plump face and ruined teeth. Assuredly M. Venot, whom for months he had been +avoiding and thereby rendering miserable, would be delighted were he to go and +knock at his door and fall weeping into his arms. In the old days God had been +always so merciful toward him. At the least sorrow, the slightest obstacle on +the path of life, he had been wont to enter a church, where, kneeling down, he +would humble his littleness in the presence of Omnipotence. And he had been +used to go forth thence, fortified by prayer, fully prepared to give up the +good things of this world, possessed by the single yearning for eternal +salvation. But at present he only practiced by fits and starts, when the terror +of hell came upon him. All kinds of weak inclinations had overcome him, and the +thought of Nana disturbed his devotions. And now the thought of God astonished +him. Why had he not thought of God before, in the hour of that terrible agony +when his feeble humanity was breaking up in ruin? +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile with slow and painful steps he sought for a church. But he had lost +his bearings; the early hour had changed the face of the streets. Soon, +however, as he turned the corner of the Rue de la Chaussée-d’Antin, he +noticed a tower looming vaguely in the fog at the end of the Trinite Church. +The white statues overlooking the bare garden seemed like so many chilly +Venuses among the yellow foliage of a park. Under the porch he stood and panted +a little, for the ascent of the wide steps had tired him. Then he went in. The +church was very cold, for its heating apparatus had been fireless since the +previous evening, and its lofty, vaulted aisles were full of a fine damp vapor +which had come filtering through the windows. The aisles were deep in shadow; +not a soul was in the church, and the only sound audible amid the unlovely +darkness was that made by the old shoes of some verger or other who was +dragging himself about in sulky semiwakefulness. Muffat, however, after +knocking forlornly against an untidy collection of chairs, sank on his knees +with bursting heart and propped himself against the rails in front of a little +chapel close by a font. He clasped his hands and began searching within himself +for suitable prayers, while his whole being yearned toward a transport. But +only his lips kept stammering empty words; his heart and brain were far away, +and with them he returned to the outer world and began his long, unresting +march through the streets, as though lashed forward by implacable necessity. +And he kept repeating, “O my God, come to my assistance! O my God, +abandon not Thy creature, who delivers himself up to Thy justice! O my God, I +adore Thee: Thou wilt not leave me to perish under the buffetings of mine +enemies!” Nothing answered: the shadows and the cold weighed upon him, +and the noise of the old shoes continued in the distance and prevented him +praying. Nothing, indeed, save that tiresome noise was audible in the deserted +church, where the matutinal sweeping was unknown before the early masses had +somewhat warmed the air of the place. After that he rose to his feet with the +help of a chair, his knees cracking under him as he did so. God was not yet +there. And why should he weep in M. Venot’s arms? The man could do +nothing. +</p> + +<p> +And then mechanically he returned to Nana’s house. Outside he slipped, +and he felt the tears welling to his eyes again, but he was not angry with his +lot—he was only feeble and ill. Yes, he was too tired; the rain had wet +him too much; he was nipped with cold, but the idea of going back to his great +dark house in the Rue Miromesnil froze his heart. The house door at +Nana’s was not open as yet, and he had to wait till the porter made his +appearance. He smiled as he went upstairs, for he already felt penetrated by +the soft warmth of that cozy retreat, where he would be able to stretch his +limbs and go to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +When Zoé opened the door to him she gave a start of most uneasy astonishment. +Madame had been taken ill with an atrocious sick headache, and she hadn’t +closed her eyes all night. Still, she could quite go and see whether Madame had +gone to sleep for good. And with that she slipped into the bedroom while he +sank back into one of the armchairs in the drawing room. But almost at that +very moment Nana appeared. She had jumped out of bed and had scarce had time to +slip on a petticoat. Her feet were bare, her hair in wild disorder, her +nightgown all crumpled. +</p> + +<p> +“What! You here again?” she cried with a red flush on her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +Up she rushed, stung by sudden indignation, in order herself to thrust him out +of doors. But when she saw him in such sorry plight—nay, so utterly done +for—she felt infinite pity. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you are a pretty sight, my dear fellow!” she continued more +gently. “But what’s the matter? You’ve spotted them, eh? And +it’s given you the hump?” +</p> + +<p> +He did not answer; he looked like a broken-down animal. Nevertheless, she came +to the conclusion that he still lacked proofs, and to hearten him up the said: +</p> + +<p> +“You see now? I was on the wrong tack. Your wife’s an honest woman, +on my word of honor! And now, my little friend, you must go home to bed. You +want it badly.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not stir. +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, be off! I can’t keep you here. But perhaps you +won’t presume to stay at such a time as this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, let’s go to bed,” he stammered. +</p> + +<p> +She repressed a violent gesture, for her patience was deserting her. Was the +man going crazy? +</p> + +<p> +“Come, be off!” she repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +But she flared up in exasperation, in utter rebellion. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s sickening! Don’t you understand I’m jolly tired +of your company? Go and find your wife, who’s making a cuckold of you. +Yes, she’s making a cuckold of you. I say so—yes, I do now. There, +you’ve got the sack! Will you leave me or will you not?” +</p> + +<p> +Muffat’s eyes filled with tears. He clasped his hands together. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, let’s go to bed!” +</p> + +<p> +At this Nana suddenly lost all control over herself and was choked by nervous +sobs. She was being taken advantage of when all was said and done! What had +these stories to do with her? She certainly had used all manner of delicate +methods in order to teach him his lesson gently. And now he was for making her +pay the damages! No, thank you! She was kindhearted, but not to that extent. +</p> + +<p> +“The devil, but I’ve had enough of this!” she swore, bringing +her fist down on the furniture. “Yes, yes, I wanted to be +faithful—it was all I could do to be that! Yet if I spoke the word I +could be rich tomorrow, my dear fellow!” +</p> + +<p> +He looked up in surprise. Never once had he thought of the monetary question. +If she only expressed a desire he would realize it at once; his whole fortune +was at her service. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it’s too late now,” she replied furiously. “I like +men who give without being asked. No, if you were to offer me a million for a +single interview I should say no! It’s over between us; I’ve got +other fish to fry there! So be off or I shan’t answer for the +consequences. I shall do something dreadful!” +</p> + +<p> +She advanced threateningly toward him, and while she was raving, as became a +good courtesan who, though driven to desperation, was yet firmly convinced of +her rights and her superiority over tiresome, honest folks, the door opened +suddenly and Steiner presented himself. That proved the finishing touch. She +shrieked aloud: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I never. Here’s the other one!” +</p> + +<p> +Bewildered by her piercing outcry, Steiner stopped short. Muffat’s +unexpected presence annoyed him, for he feared an explanation and had been +doing his best to avoid it these three months past. With blinking eyes he stood +first on one leg, then on the other, looking embarrassed the while and avoiding +the count’s gaze. He was out of breath, and as became a man who had +rushed across Paris with good news, only to find himself involved in unforeseen +trouble, his face was flushed and distorted. +</p> + +<p> +“Que veux-tu, toi?” asked Nana roughly, using the second person +singular in open mockery of the count. +</p> + +<p> +“What—what do I—” he stammered. “I’ve got +it for you—you know what.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh?” +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated. The day before yesterday she had given him to understand that if +he could not find her a thousand francs to pay a bill with she would not +receive him any more. For two days he had been loafing about the town in quest +of the money and had at last made the sum up that very morning. +</p> + +<p> +“The thousand francs!” he ended by declaring as he drew an envelope +from his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +Nana had not remembered. +</p> + +<p> +“The thousand francs!” she cried. “D’you think +I’m begging alms? Now look here, that’s what I value your thousand +francs at!” +</p> + +<p> +And snatching the envelope, she threw it full in his face. As became a prudent +Hebrew, he picked it up slowly and painfully and then looked at the young woman +with a dull expression of face. Muffat and he exchanged a despairing glance, +while she put her arms akimbo in order to shout more loudly than before. +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, will you soon have done insulting me? I’m glad +you’ve come, too, dear boy, because now you see the clearance’ll be +quite complete. Now then, gee up! Out you go!” +</p> + +<p> +Then as they did not hurry in the least, for they were paralyzed: +</p> + +<p> +“D’you mean to say I’m acting like a fool, eh? It’s +likely enough! But you’ve bored me too much! And, hang it all, I’ve +had enough of swelldom! If I die of what I’m doing—well, it’s +my fancy!” +</p> + +<p> +They sought to calm her; they begged her to listen to reason. +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, once, twice, thrice! Won’t you go? Very well! Look +there! I’ve got company.” +</p> + +<p> +And with a brisk movement she flung wide the bedroom door. Whereupon in the +middle of the tumbled bed the two men caught sight of Fontan. He had not +expected to be shown off in this situation; nevertheless, he took things very +easily, for he was used to sudden surprises on the stage. Indeed, after the +first shock he even hit upon a grimace calculated to tide him honorably over +his difficulty; he “turned rabbit,” as he phrased it, and stuck out +his lips and wrinkled up his nose, so as completely to transform the lower half +of his face. His base, satyrlike head seemed to exude incontinence. It was this +man Fontan then whom Nana had been to fetch at the Varieties every day for a +week past, for she was smitten with that fierce sort of passion which the +grimacing ugliness of a low comedian is wont to inspire in the genus courtesan. +</p> + +<p> +“There!” she said, pointing him out with tragic gesture. +</p> + +<p> +Muffat, who hitherto had pocketed everything, rebelled at this affront. +</p> + +<p> +“Bitch!” he stammered. +</p> + +<p> +But Nana, who was once more in the bedroom, came back in order to have the last +word. +</p> + +<p> +“How am I a bitch? What about your wife?” +</p> + +<p> +And she was off and, slamming the door with a bang, she noisily pushed to the +bolt. Left alone, the two men gazed at one another in silence. Zoé had just +come into the room, but she did not drive them out. Nay, she spoke to them in +the most sensible manner. As became a woman with a head on her shoulders, she +decided that Madame’s conduct was rather too much of a good thing. But +she defended her, nonetheless: this union with the play actor couldn’t +last; the madness must be allowed to pass off! The two men retired without +uttering a sound. On the pavement outside they shook hands silently, as though +swayed by a mutual sense of fraternity. Then they turned their backs on one +another and went crawling off in opposite directions. +</p> + +<p> +When at last Muffat entered his town house in the Rue Miromesnil his wife was +just arriving. The two met on the great staircase, whose walls exhaled an icy +chill. They lifted up their eyes and beheld one another. The count still wore +his muddy clothes, and his pale, bewildered face betrayed the prodigal +returning from his debauch. The countess looked as though she were utterly +fagged out by a night in the train. She was dropping with sleep, but her hair +had been brushed anyhow, and her eyes were deeply sunken. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"></a> CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p> +We are in a little set of lodgings on the fourth floor in the Rue Veron at +Montmartre. Nana and Fontan have invited a few friends to cut their +Twelfth-Night cake with them. They are giving their housewarming, though they +have been only three days settled. +</p> + +<p> +They had no fixed intention of keeping house together, but the whole thing had +come about suddenly in the first glow of the honeymoon. After her grand blowup, +when she had turned the count and the banker so vigorously out of doors, Nana +felt the world crumbling about her feet. She estimated the situation at a +glance; the creditors would swoop down on her anteroom, would mix themselves up +with her love affairs and threaten to sell her little all unless she continued +to act sensibly. Then, too, there would be no end of disputes and carking +anxieties if she attempted to save her furniture from their clutches. And so +she preferred giving up everything. Besides, the flat in the Boulevard +Haussmann was plaguing her to death. It was so stupid with its great gilded +rooms! In her access of tenderness for Fontan she began dreaming of a pretty +little bright chamber. Indeed, she returned to the old ideals of the florist +days, when her highest ambition was to have a rosewood cupboard with a +plate-glass door and a bed hung with blue “reps.” In the course of +two days she sold what she could smuggle out of the house in the way of +knickknacks and jewelry and then disappeared, taking with her ten thousand +francs and never even warning the porter’s wife. It was a plunge into the +dark, a merry spree; never a trace was left behind. In this way she would +prevent the men from coming dangling after her. Fontain was very nice. He did +not say no to anything but just let her do as she liked. Nay, he even displayed +an admirable spirit of comradeship. He had, on his part, nearly seven thousand +francs, and despite the fact that people accused him of stinginess, he +consented to add them to the young woman’s ten thousand. The sum struck +them as a solid foundation on which to begin housekeeping. And so they started +away, drawing from their common hoard, in order to hire and furnish the two +rooms in the Rue Veron, and sharing everything together like old friends. In +the early days it was really delicious. +</p> + +<p> +On Twelfth Night Mme Lerat and Louiset were the first to arrive. As Fontan had +not yet come home, the old lady ventured to give expression to her fears, for +she trembled to see her niece renouncing the chance of wealth. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Aunt, I love him so dearly!” cried Nana, pressing her hands to +her heart with the prettiest of gestures. +</p> + +<p> +This phrase produced an extraordinary effect on Mme Lerat, and tears came into +her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” she said with an air of conviction. +“Love before all things!” +</p> + +<p> +And with that she went into raptures over the prettiness of the rooms. Nana +took her to see the bedroom, the parlor and the very kitchen. Gracious +goodness, it wasn’t a vast place, but then, they had painted it afresh +and put up new wallpapers. Besides, the sun shone merrily into it during the +daytime. +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon Mme Lerat detained the young woman in the bedroom, while Louiset +installed himself behind the charwoman in the kitchen in order to watch a +chicken being roasted. If, said Mme Lerat, she permitted herself to say what +was in her mind, it was because Zoé had just been at her house. Zoé had stayed +courageously in the breach because she was devoted to her mistress. Madame +would pay her later on; she was in no anxiety about that! And amid the breakup +of the Boulevard Haussmann establishment it was she who showed the creditors a +bold front; it was she who conducted a dignified retreat, saving what she could +from the wreck and telling everyone that her mistress was traveling. She never +once gave them her address. Nay, through fear of being followed, she even +deprived herself of the pleasure of calling on Madame. Nevertheless, that same +morning she had run round to Mme Lerat’s because matters were taking a +new turn. The evening before creditors in the persons of the upholsterer, the +charcoal merchant and the laundress had put in an appearance and had offered to +give Madame an extension of time. Nay, they had even proposed to advance Madame +a very considerable amount if only Madame would return to her flat and conduct +herself like a sensible person. The aunt repeated Zoé’s words. Without +doubt there was a gentleman behind it all. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll never consent!” declared Nana in great disgust. +“Ah, they’re a pretty lot those tradesmen! Do they think I’m +to be sold so that they can get their bills paid? Why, look here, I’d +rather die of hunger than deceive Fontan.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I said,” averred Mme Lerat. “‘My +niece,’ I said, ‘is too noble-hearted!’” +</p> + +<p> +Nana, however, was much vexed to learn that La Mignotte was being sold and that +Labordette was buying it for Caroline Hequet at an absurdly low price. It made +her angry with that clique. Oh, they were a regular cheap lot, in spite of +their airs and graces! Yes, by Jove, she was worth more than the whole lot of +them! +</p> + +<p> +“They can have their little joke out,” she concluded, “but +money will never give them true happiness! Besides, you know, Aunt, I +don’t even know now whether all that set are alive or not. I’m much +too happy.” +</p> + +<p> +At that very moment Mme Maloir entered, wearing one of those hats of which she +alone understood the shape. It was delightful meeting again. Mme Maloir +explained that magnificence frightened her and that NOW, from time to time, she +would come back for her game of bezique. A second visit was paid to the +different rooms in the lodgings, and in the kitchen Nana talked of economy in +the presence of the charwoman, who was basting the fowl, and said that a +servant would have cost too much and that she was herself desirous of looking +after things. Louiset was gazing beatifically at the roasting process. +</p> + +<p> +But presently there was a loud outburst of voices. Fontan had come in with Bosc +and Prullière, and the company could now sit down to table. The soup had been +already served when Nana for the third time showed off the lodgings. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, dear children, how comfortable you are here!” Bosc kept +repeating, simply for the sake of pleasing the chums who were standing the +dinner. At bottom the subject of the “nook,” as he called it, +nowise touched him. +</p> + +<p> +In the bedroom he harped still more vigorously on the amiable note. Ordinarily +he was wont to treat women like cattle, and the idea of a man bothering himself +about one of the dirty brutes excited within him the only angry feelings of +which, in his comprehensive, drunken disdain of the universe, he was still +capable. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, ah, the villains,” he continued with a wink, +“they’ve done this on the sly. Well, you were certainly right. It +will be charming, and, by heaven, we’ll come and see you!” +</p> + +<p> +But when Louiset arrived on the scene astride upon a broomstick, Prullière +chuckled spitefully and remarked: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I never! You’ve got a baby already?” +</p> + +<p> +This struck everybody as very droll, and Mme Lerat and Mme Maloir shook with +laughter. Nana, far from being vexed, laughed tenderly and said that +unfortunately this was not the case. She would very much have liked it, both +for the little one’s sake and for her own, but perhaps one would arrive +all the same. Fontan, in his role of honest citizen, took Louiset in his arms +and began playing with him and lisping. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind! It loves its daddy! Call me ‘Papa,’ you little +blackguard!” +</p> + +<p> +“Papa, Papa!” stammered the child. +</p> + +<p> +The company overwhelmed him with caresses, but Bosc was bored and talked of +sitting down to table. That was the only serious business in life. Nana asked +her guests’ permission to put Louiset’s chair next her own. The +dinner was very merry, but Bosc suffered from the near neighborhood of the +child, from whom he had to defend his plate. Mme Lerat bored him too. She was +in a melting mood and kept whispering to him all sorts of mysterious things +about gentlemen of the first fashion who were still running after Nana. Twice +he had to push away her knee, for she was positively invading him in her +gushing, tearful mood. Prullière behaved with great incivility toward Mme +Maloir and did not once help her to anything. He was entirely taken up with +Nana and looked annoyed at seeing her with Fontan. Besides, the turtle doves +were kissing so excessively as to be becoming positive bores. Contrary to all +known rules, they had elected to sit side by side. +</p> + +<p> +“Devil take it! Why don’t you eat? You’ve got plenty of time +ahead of you!” Bosc kept repeating with his mouth full. “Wait till +we are gone!” +</p> + +<p> +But Nana could not restrain herself. She was in a perfect ecstasy of love. Her +face was as full of blushes as an innocent young girl’s, and her looks +and her laughter seemed to overflow with tenderness. Gazing on Fontan, she +overwhelmed him with pet names—“my doggie, my old bear, my +kitten”—and whenever he passed her the water or the salt she bent +forward and kissed him at random on lips, eyes, nose or ear. Then if she met +with reproof she would return to the attack with the cleverest maneuvers and +with infinite submissiveness and the supple cunning of a beaten cat would catch +hold of his hand when no one was looking, in order to kiss it again. It seemed +she must be touching something belonging to him. As to Fontan, he gave himself +airs and let himself be adored with the utmost condescension. His great nose +sniffed with entirely sensual content; his goat face, with its quaint, +monstrous ugliness, positively glowed in the sunlight of devoted adoration +lavished upon him by that superb woman who was so fair and so plump of limb. +Occasionally he gave a kiss in return, as became a man who is having all the +enjoyment and is yet willing to behave prettily. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you’re growing maddening!” cried Prullière. “Get +away from her, you fellow there!” +</p> + +<p> +And he dismissed Fontan and changed covers, in order to take his place at +Nana’s side. The company shouted and applauded at this and gave vent to +some stiffish epigrammatic witticisms. Fontan counterfeited despair and assumed +the quaint expression of Vulcan crying for Venus. Straightway Prullière became +very gallant, but Nana, whose foot he was groping for under the table, caught +him a slap to make him keep quiet. No, no, she was certainly not going to +become his mistress. A month ago she had begun to take a fancy to him because +of his good looks, but now she detested him. If he pinched her again under +pretense of picking up her napkin, she would throw her glass in his face! +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, the evening passed off well. The company had naturally begun +talking about the Variétés. Wasn’t that cad of a Bordenave going to go +off the hooks after all? His nasty diseases kept reappearing and causing him +such suffering that you couldn’t come within six yards of him nowadays. +The day before during rehearsal he had been incessantly yelling at Simonne. +There was a fellow whom the theatrical people wouldn’t shed many tears +over. Nana announced that if he were to ask her to take another part she would +jolly well send him to the rightabout. Moreover, she began talking of leaving +the stage; the theater was not to compare with her home. Fontan, who was not in +the present piece or in that which was then being rehearsed, also talked big +about the joy of being entirely at liberty and of passing his evenings with his +feet on the fender in the society of his little pet. And at this the rest +exclaimed delightedly, treating their entertainers as lucky people and +pretending to envy their felicity. +</p> + +<p> +The Twelfth-Night cake had been cut and handed round. The bean had fallen to +the lot of Mme Lerat, who popped it into Bosc’s glass. Whereupon there +were shouts of “The king drinks! The king drinks!” Nana took +advantage of this outburst of merriment and went and put her arms round +Fontan’s neck again, kissing him and whispering in his ear. But +Prullière, laughing angrily, as became a pretty man, declared that they were +not playing the game. Louiset, meanwhile, slept soundly on two chairs. It was +nearing one o’clock when the company separated, shouting au revoir as +they went downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +For three weeks the existence of the pair of lovers was really charming. Nana +fancied she was returning to those early days when her first silk dress had +caused her infinite delight. She went out little and affected a life of +solitude and simplicity. One morning early, when she had gone down to buy fish +IN PROPRIA PERSONA in La Rouchefoucauld Market, she was vastly surprised to +meet her old hair dresser Francis face to face. His getup was as scrupulously +careful as ever: he wore the finest linen, and his frock coat was beyond +reproach; in fact, Nana felt ashamed that he should see her in the street with +a dressing jacket and disordered hair and down-at-heel shoes. But he had the +tact, if possible, to intensify his politeness toward her. He did not permit +himself a single inquiry and affected to believe that Madame was at present on +her travels. Ah, but Madame had rendered many persons unhappy when she decided +to travel! All the world had suffered loss. The young woman, however, ended by +asking him questions, for a sudden fit of curiosity had made her forget her +previous embarrassment. Seeing that the crowd was jostling them, she pushed him +into a doorway and, still holding her little basket in one hand, stood chatting +in front of him. What were people saying about her high jinks? Good heavens! +The ladies to whom he went said this and that and all sorts of things. In fact, +she had made a great noise and was enjoying a real boom: And Steiner? M. +Steiner was in a very bad way, would make an ugly finish if he couldn’t +hit on some new commercial operation. And Daguenet? Oh, HE was getting on +swimmingly. M. Daguenet was settling down. Nana, under the exciting influence +of various recollections, was just opening her mouth with a view to a further +examination when she felt it would be awkward to utter Muffat’s name. +Thereupon Francis smiled and spoke instead of her. As to Monsieur le Comte, it +was all a great pity, so sad had been his sufferings since Madame’s +departure. +</p> + +<p> +He had been like a soul in pain—you might have met him wherever Madame +was likely to be found. At last M. Mignon had come across him and had taken him +home to his own place. This piece of news caused Nana to laugh a good deal. But +her laughter was not of the easiest kind. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, he’s with Rose now,” she said. “Well then, you +must know, Francis, I’ve done with him! Oh, the canting thing! It’s +learned some pretty habits—can’t even go fasting for a week now! +And to think that he used to swear he wouldn’t have any woman after +me!” +</p> + +<p> +She was raging inwardly. +</p> + +<p> +“My leavings, if you please!” she continued. “A pretty +Johnnie for Rose to go and treat herself to! Oh, I understand it all now: she +wanted to have her revenge because I got that brute of a Steiner away from her. +Ain’t it sly to get a man to come to her when I’ve chucked him out +of doors?” +</p> + +<p> +“M. Mignon doesn’t tell that tale,” said the hairdresser. +“According to his account, it was Monsieur le Comte who chucked you out. +Yes, and in a pretty disgusting way too—with a kick on the bottom!” +</p> + +<p> +Nana became suddenly very pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, what?” she cried. “With a kick on my bottom? He’s +going too far, he is! Look here, my little friend, it was I who threw him +downstairs, the cuckold, for he is a cuckold, I must inform you. His countess +is making him one with every man she meets—yes, even with that +good-for-nothing of a Fauchery. And that Mignon, who goes loafing about the +pavement in behalf of his harridan of a wife, whom nobody wants because +she’s so lean! What a foul lot! What a foul lot!” +</p> + +<p> +She was choking, and she paused for breath +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s what they say, is it? Very well, my little Francis, +I’ll go and look ’em up, I will. Shall you and I go to them at +once? Yes, I’ll go, and we’ll see whether they will have the cheek +to go telling about kicks on the bottom. Kick’s! I never took one from +anybody! And nobody’s ever going to strike me—d’ye +see?—for I’d smash the man who laid a finger on me!” +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, the storm subsided at last. After all, they might jolly well what +they liked! She looked upon them as so much filth underfoot! It would have +soiled her to bother about people like that. She had a conscience of her own, +she had! And Francis, seeing her thus giving herself away, what with her +housewife’s costume and all, became familiar and, at parting, made so +bold as to give her some good advice. It was wrong of her to be sacrificing +everything for the sake of an infatuation; such infatuations ruined existence. +She listened to him with bowed head while he spoke to her with a pained +expression, as became a connoisseur who could not bear to see so fine a girl +making such a hash of things. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s my affair,” she said at last “Thanks all +the same, dear boy.” She shook his hand, which despite his perfect dress +was always a little greasy, and then went off to buy her fish. During the day +that story about the kick on the bottom occupied her thoughts. She even spoke +about it to Fontan and again posed as a sturdy woman who was not going to stand +the slightest flick from anybody. Fontan, as became a philosophic spirit, +declared that all men of fashion were beasts whom it was one’s duty to +despise. And from that moment forth Nana was full of very real disdain. +</p> + +<p> +That same evening they went to the Bouffes-Parisiens Theatre to see a little +woman of Fontan’s acquaintance make her debut in a part of some ten +lines. It was close on one o’clock when they once more trudged up the +heights of Montmartre. They had purchased a cake, a “mocha,” in the +Rue de la Chaussée-d’Antin, and they ate it in bed, seeing that the night +was not warm and it was not worth while lighting a fire. Sitting up side by +side, with the bedclothes pulled up in front and the pillows piled up behind, +they supped and talked about the little woman. Nana thought her plain and +lacking in style. Fontan, lying on his stomach, passed up the pieces of cake +which had been put between the candle and the matches on the edge of the night +table. But they ended by quarreling. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, just to think of it!” cried Nana. “She’s got eyes +like gimlet holes, and her hair’s the color of tow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue, do!” said Fontan. “She has a superb head +of hair and such fire in her looks! It’s lovely the way you women always +tear each other to pieces!” +</p> + +<p> +He looked annoyed. +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, we’ve had enough of it!” he said at last in savage +tones. “You know I don’t like being bored. Let’s go to sleep, +or things’ll take a nasty turn.” +</p> + +<p> +And he blew out the candle, but Nana was furious and went on talking. She was +not going to be spoken to in that voice; she was accustomed to being treated +with respect! As he did not vouchsafe any further answer, she was silenced, but +she could not go to sleep and lay tossing to and fro. +</p> + +<p> +“Great God, have you done moving about?” cried he suddenly, giving +a brisk jump upward. +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t my fault if there are crumbs in the bed,” she said +curtly. +</p> + +<p> +In fact, there were crumbs in the bed. She felt them down to her middle; she +was everywhere devoured by them. One single crumb was scorching her and making +her scratch herself till she bled. Besides, when one eats a cake isn’t it +usual to shake out the bedclothes afterward? Fontan, white with rage, had relit +the candle, and they both got up and, barefooted and in their night dresses, +they turned down the clothes and swept up the crumbs on the sheet with their +hands. Fontan went to bed again, shivering, and told her to go to the devil +when she advised him to wipe the soles of his feet carefully. And in the end +she came back to her old position, but scarce had she stretched herself out +than she danced again. There were fresh crumbs in the bed! +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove, it was sure to happen!” she cried. “You’ve +brought them back again under your feet. I can’t go on like this! No, I +tell you, I can’t go on like this!” +</p> + +<p> +And with that she was on the point of stepping over him in order to jump out of +bed again, when Fontan in his longing for sleep grew desperate and dealt her a +ringing box on the ear. The blow was so smart that Nana suddenly found herself +lying down again with her head on the pillow. +</p> + +<p> +She lay half stunned. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” she ejaculated simply, sighing a child’s big sigh. +</p> + +<p> +For a second or two he threatened her with a second slap, asking her at the +same time if she meant to move again. Then he put out the light, settled +himself squarely on his back and in a trice was snoring. But she buried her +face in the pillow and began sobbing quietly to herself. It was cowardly of him +to take advantage of his superior strength! She had experienced very real +terror all the same, so terrible had that quaint mask of Fontan’s become. +And her anger began dwindling down as though the blow had calmed her. She began +to feel respect toward him and accordingly squeezed herself against the wall in +order to leave him as much room as possible. She even ended by going to sleep, +her cheek tingling, her eyes full of tears and feeling so deliciously depressed +and wearied and submissive that she no longer noticed the crumbs. When she woke +up in the morning she was holding Fontain in her naked arms and pressing him +tightly against her breast. He would never begin it again, eh? Never again? She +loved him too dearly. Why, it was even nice to be beaten if he struck the blow! +</p> + +<p> +After that night a new life began. For a mere trifle—a yes, a +no—Fontan would deal her a blow. She grew accustomed to it and pocketed +everything. Sometimes she shed tears and threatened him, but he would pin her +up against the wall and talk of strangling her, which had the effect of +rendering her extremely obedient. As often as not, she sank down on a chair and +sobbed for five minutes on end. But afterward she would forget all about it, +grow very merry, fill the little lodgings with the sound of song and laughter +and the rapid rustle of skirts. The worst of it was that Fontan was now in the +habit of disappearing for the whole day and never returning home before +midnight, for he was going to cafes and meeting his old friends again. Nana +bore with everything. She was tremulous and caressing, her only fear being that +she might never see him again if she reproached him. But on certain days, when +she had neither Mme Maloir nor her aunt and Louiset with her, she grew mortally +dull. Thus one Sunday, when she was bargaining for some pigeons at La +Rochefoucauld Market, she was delighted to meet Satin, who, in her turn, was +busy purchasing a bunch of radishes. Since the evening when the prince had +drunk Fontan’s champagne they had lost sight of one another. +</p> + +<p> +“What? It’s you! D’you live in our parts?” said Satin, +astounded at seeing her in the street at that hour of the morning and in +slippers too. “Oh, my poor, dear girl, you’re really ruined +then!” +</p> + +<p> +Nana knitted her brows as a sign that she was to hold her tongue, for they were +surrounded by other women who wore dressing gowns and were without linen, while +their disheveled tresses were white with fluff. In the morning, when the man +picked up overnight had been newly dismissed, all the courtesans of the quarter +were wont to come marketing here, their eyes heavy with sleep, their feet in +old down-at-heel shoes and themselves full of the weariness and ill humor +entailed by a night of boredom. From the four converging streets they came down +into the market, looking still rather young in some cases and very pale and +charming in their utter unconstraint; in others, hideous and old with bloated +faces and peeling skin. The latter did not the least mind being seen thus +outside working hours, and not one of them deigned to smile when the passers-by +on the sidewalk turned round to look at them. Indeed, they were all very full +of business and wore a disdainful expression, as became good housewives for +whom men had ceased to exist. Just as Satin, for instance, was paying for her +bunch of radishes a young man, who might have been a shop-boy going late to his +work, threw her a passing greeting: +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, duckie.” +</p> + +<p> +She straightened herself up at once and with the dignified manner becoming an +offended queen remarked: +</p> + +<p> +“What’s up with that swine there?” +</p> + +<p> +Then she fancied she recognized him. Three days ago toward midnight, as the was +coming back alone from the boulevards, she had talked to him at the corner of +the Rue Labruyère for nearly half an hour, with a view to persuading him to +come home with her. But this recollection only angered her the more. +</p> + +<p> +“Fancy they’re brutes enough to shout things to you in broad +daylight!” she continued. “When one’s out on business one +ought to be respectfully treated, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +Nana had ended by buying her pigeons, although she certainly had her doubts of +their freshness. After which Satin wanted to show her where she lived in the +Rue Rochefoucauld close by. And the moment they were alone Nana told her of her +passion for Fontan. Arrived in front of the house, the girl stopped with her +bundle of radishes under her arm and listened eagerly to a final detail which +the other imparted to her. Nana fibbed away and vowed that it was she who had +turned Count Muffat out of doors with a perfect hail of kicks on the posterior. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh how smart!” Satin repeated. “How very smart! Kicks, eh? +And he never said a word, did he? What a blooming coward! I wish I’d been +there to see his ugly mug! My dear girl, you were quite right. A pin for the +coin! When I’M on with a mash I starve for it! You’ll come and see +me, eh? You promise? It’s the left-hand door. Knock three knocks, for +there’s a whole heap of damned squints about.” +</p> + +<p> +After that whenever Nana grew too weary of life she went down and saw Satin. +She was always sure of finding her, for the girl never went out before six in +the evening. Satin occupied a couple of rooms which a chemist had furnished for +her in order to save her from the clutches of the police, but in little more +than a twelvemonth she had broken the furniture, knocked in the chairs, dirtied +the curtains, and that in a manner so furiously filthy and untidy that the +lodgings seemed as though inhabited by a pack of mad cats. On the mornings when +she grew disgusted with herself and thought about cleaning up a bit, chair +rails and strips of curtain would come off in her hands during her struggle +with superincumbent dirt. On such days the place was fouler than ever, and it +was impossible to enter it, owing to the things which had fallen down across +the doorway. At length she ended by leaving her house severely alone. When the +lamp was lit the cupboard with plate-glass doors, the clock and what remained +of the curtains still served to impose on the men. Besides, for six months past +her landlord had been threatening to evict her. Well then, for whom should she +be keeping the furniture nice? For him more than anyone else, perhaps! And so +whenever she got up in a merry mood she would shout “Gee up!” and +give the sides of the cupboard and the chest of drawers such a tremendous kick +that they cracked again. +</p> + +<p> +Nana nearly always found her in bed. Even on the days when Satin went out to do +her marketing she felt so tired on her return upstairs that she flung herself +down on the bed and went to sleep again. During the day she dragged herself +about and dozed off on chairs. Indeed, she did not emerge from this languid +condition till the evening drew on and the gas was lit outside. Nana felt very +comfortable at Satin’s, sitting doing nothing on the untidy bed, while +basins stood about on the floor at her feet and petticoats which had been +bemired last night hung over the backs of armchairs and stained them with mud. +They had long gossips together and were endlessly confidential, while Satin lay +on her stomach in her nightgown, waving her legs above her head and smoking +cigarettes as she listened. Sometimes on such afternoons as they had troubles +to retail they treated themselves to absinthe in order, as they termed it, +“to forget.” Satin did not go downstairs or put on a petticoat but +simply went and leaned over the banisters and shouted her order to the +portress’s little girl, a chit of ten, who when she brought up the +absinthe in a glass would look furtively at the lady’s bare legs. Every +conversation led up to one subject—the beastliness of the men. Nana was +overpowering on the subject of Fontan. She could not say a dozen words without +lapsing into endless repetitions of his sayings and his doings. But Satin, like +a good-natured girl, would listen unwearyingly to everlasting accounts of how +Nana had watched for him at the window, how they had fallen out over a burnt +dish of hash and how they had made it up in bed after hours of silent sulking. +In her desire to be always talking about these things Nana had got to tell of +every slap that he dealt her. Last week he had given her a swollen eye; nay, +the night before he had given her such a box on the ear as to throw her across +the night table, and all because he could not find his slippers. And the other +woman did not evince any astonishment but blew out cigarette smoke and only +paused a moment to remark that, for her part, she always ducked under, which +sent the gentleman pretty nearly sprawling. Both of them settled down with a +will to these anecdotes about blows; they grew supremely happy and excited over +these same idiotic doings about which they told one another a hundred times or +more, while they gave themselves up to the soft and pleasing sense of weariness +which was sure to follow the drubbings they talked of. It was the delight of +rediscussing Fontan’s blows and of explaining his works and his ways, +down to the very manner in which he took off his boots, which brought Nana back +daily to Satin’s place. The latter, moreover, used to end by growing +sympathetic in her turn and would cite even more violent cases, as, for +instance, that of a pastry cook who had left her for dead on the floor. Yet she +loved him, in spite of it all! Then came the days on which Nana cried and +declared that things could not go on as they were doing. Satin would escort her +back to her own door and would linger an hour out in the street to see that he +did not murder her. And the next day the two women would rejoice over the +reconciliation the whole afternoon through. Yet though they did not say so, +they preferred the days when threshings were, so to speak, in the air, for then +their comfortable indignation was all the stronger. +</p> + +<p> +They became inseparable. Yet Satin never went to Nana’s, Fontan having +announced that he would have no trollops in his house. They used to go out +together, and thus it was that Satin one day took her friend to see another +woman. This woman turned out to be that very Mme Robert who had interested Nana +and inspired her with a certain respect ever since she had refused to come to +her supper. Mme Robert lived in the Rue Mosnier, a silent, new street in the +Quartier de l’Europe, where there were no shops, and the handsome houses +with their small, limited flats were peopled by ladies. It was five +o’clock, and along the silent pavements in the quiet, aristocratic +shelter of the tall white houses were drawn up the broughams of stock-exchange +people and merchants, while men walked hastily about, looking up at the +windows, where women in dressing jackets seemed to be awaiting them. At first +Nana refused to go up, remarking with some constraint that she had not the +pleasure of the lady’s acquaintance. But Satin would take no refusal. She +was only desirous of paying a civil call, for Mme Robert, whom she had met in a +restaurant the day before, had made herself extremely agreeable and had got her +to promise to come and see her. And at last Nana consented. At the top of the +stairs a little drowsy maid informed them that Madame had not come home yet, +but she ushered them into the drawing room notwithstanding and left them there. +</p> + +<p> +“The deuce, it’s a smart show!” whispered Satin. It was a +stiff, middle-class room, hung with dark-colored fabrics, and suggested the +conventional taste of a Parisian shopkeeper who has retired on his fortune. +Nana was struck and did her best to make merry about it. But Satin showed +annoyance and spoke up for Mme Robert’s strict adherence to the +proprieties. She was always to be met in the society of elderly, grave-looking +men, on whose arms she leaned. At present she had a retired chocolate seller in +tow, a serious soul. Whenever he came to see her he was so charmed by the +solid, handsome way in which the house was arranged that he had himself +announced and addressed its mistress as “dear child.” +</p> + +<p> +“Look, here she is!” continued Satin, pointing to a photograph +which stood in front of the clock. Nana scrutinized the portrait for a second +or so. It represented a very dark brunette with a longish face and lips pursed +up in a discreet smile. “A thoroughly fashionable lady,” one might +have said of the likeness, “but one who is rather more reserved than the +rest.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s strange,” murmured Nana at length, “but +I’ve certainly seen that face somewhere. Where, I don’t remember. +But it can’t have been in a pretty place—oh no, I’m sure it +wasn’t in a pretty place.” +</p> + +<p> +And turning toward her friend, she added, “So she’s made you +promise to come and see her? What does she want with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“What does she want with me? ’Gad! To talk, I expect—to be +with me a bit. It’s her politeness.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana looked steadily at Satin. “Tut, tut,” she said softly. After +all, it didn’t matter to her! Yet seeing that the lady was keeping them +waiting, she declared that she would not stay longer, and accordingly they both +took their departure. +</p> + +<p> +The next day Fontan informed Nana that he was not coming home to dinner, and +she went down early to find Satin with a view to treating her at a restaurant. +The choice of the restaurant involved infinite debate. Satin proposed various +brewery bars, which Nana thought detestable, and at last persuaded her to dine +at Laure’s. This was a table d’hôte in the Rue des Martyrs, where +the dinner cost three francs. +</p> + +<p> +Tired of waiting for the dinner hour and not knowing what to do out in the +street, the pair went up to Laure’s twenty minutes too early. The three +dining rooms there were still empty, and they sat down at a table in the very +saloon where Laure Piedefer was enthroned on a high bench behind a bar. This +Laure was a lady of some fifty summers, whose swelling contours were tightly +laced by belts and corsets. Women kept entering in quick procession, and each, +in passing, craned upward so as to overtop the saucers raised on the counter +and kissed Laure on the mouth with tender familiarity, while the monstrous +creature tried, with tears in her eyes, to divide her attentions among them in +such a way as to make no one jealous. On the other hand, the servant who waited +on the ladies was a tall, lean woman. She seemed wasted with disease, and her +eyes were ringed with dark lines and glowed with somber fire. Very rapidly the +three saloons filled up. There were some hundred customers, and they had seated +themselves wherever they could find vacant places. The majority were nearing +the age of forty: their flesh was puffy and so bloated by vice as almost to +hide the outlines of their flaccid mouths. But amid all these gross bosoms and +figures some slim, pretty girls were observable. These still wore a modest +expression despite their impudent gestures, for they were only beginners in +their art, who had started life in the ballrooms of the slums and had been +brought to Laure’s by some customer or other. Here the tribe of bloated +women, excited by the sweet scent of their youth, jostled one another and, +while treating them to dainties, formed a perfect court round them, much as old +amorous bachelors might have done. As to the men, they were not numerous. There +were ten or fifteen of them at the outside, and if we except four tall fellows +who had come to see the sight and were cracking jokes and taking things easy, +they behaved humbly enough amid this whelming flood of petticoats. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, their stew’s very good, ain’t it?” said Satin. +</p> + +<p> +Nana nodded with much satisfaction. It was the old substantial dinner you get +in a country hotel and consisted of vol-au-vent à la financière, fowl boiled in +rice, beans with a sauce and vanilla creams, iced and flavored with burnt +sugar. The ladies made an especial onslaught on the boiled fowl and rice: their +stays seemed about to burst; they wiped their lips with slow, luxurious +movements. At first Nana had been afraid of meeting old friends who might have +asked her silly questions, but she grew calm at last, for she recognized no one +she knew among that extremely motley throng, where faded dresses and lamentable +hats contrasted strangely with handsome costumes, the wearers of which +fraternized in vice with their shabbier neighbors. She was momentarily +interested, however, at the sight of a young man with short curly hair and +insolent face who kept a whole tableful of vastly fat women breathlessly +attentive to his slightest caprice. But when the young man began to laugh his +bosom swelled. +</p> + +<p> +“Good lack, it’s a woman!” +</p> + +<p> +She let a little cry escape as she spoke, and Satin, who was stuffing herself +with boiled fowl, lifted up her head and whispered: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes! I know her. A smart lot, eh? They do just fight for her.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana pouted disgustingly. She could not understand the thing as yet. +Nevertheless, she remarked in her sensible tone that there was no disputing +about tastes or colors, for you never could tell what you yourself might one +day have a liking for. So she ate her cream with an air of philosophy, though +she was perfectly well aware that Satin with her great blue virginal eyes was +throwing the neighboring tables into a state of great excitement. There was one +woman in particular, a powerful, fair-haired person who sat close to her and +made herself extremely agreeable. She seemed all aglow with affection and +pushed toward the girl so eagerly that Nana was on the point of interfering. +</p> + +<p> +But at that very moment a woman who was entering the room gave her a shock of +surprise. Indeed, she had recognized Mme Robert. The latter, looking, as was +her wont, like a pretty brown mouse, nodded familiarly to the tall, lean +serving maid and came and leaned upon Laure’s counter. Then both women +exchanged a long kiss. Nana thought such an attention on the part of a woman so +distinguished looking very amusing, the more so because Mme Robert had quite +altered her usual modest expression. On the contrary, her eye roved about the +saloon as she kept up a whispered conversation. Laure had resumed her seat and +once more settled herself down with all the majesty of an old image of Vice, +whose face has been worn and polished by the kisses of the faithful. Above the +range of loaded plates she sat enthroned in all the opulence which a +hotelkeeper enjoys after forty years of activity, and as she sat there she +swayed her bloated following of large women, in comparison with the biggest of +whom she seemed monstrous. +</p> + +<p> +But Mme Robert had caught sight of Satin, and leaving Laure, she ran up and +behaved charmingly, telling her how much she regretted not having been at home +the day before. When Satin, however, who was ravished at this treatment, +insisted on finding room for her at the table, she vowed she had already dined. +She had simply come up to look about her. As she stood talking behind her new +friend’s chair she leaned lightly on her shoulders and in a smiling, +coaxing manner remarked: +</p> + +<p> +“Now when shall I see you? If you were free—” +</p> + +<p> +Nana unluckily failed to hear more. The conversation vexed her, and she was +dying to tell this honest lady a few home truths. But the sight of a troop of +new arrivals paralyzed her. It was composed of smart, fashionably dressed women +who were wearing their diamonds. Under the influence of perverse impulse they +had made up a party to come to Laure’s—whom, by the by, they all +treated with great familiarity—to eat the three-franc dinner while +flashing their jewels of great price in the jealous and astonished eyes of +poor, bedraggled prostitutes. The moment they entered, talking and laughing in +their shrill, clear tones and seeming to bring sunshine with them from the +outside world, Nana turned her head rapidly away. Much to her annoyance she had +recognized Lucy Stewart and Maria Blond among them, and for nearly five +minutes, during which the ladies chatted with Laure before passing into the +saloon beyond, she kept her head down and seemed deeply occupied in rolling +bread pills on the cloth in front of her. But when at length she was able to +look round, what was her astonishment to observe the chair next to hers vacant! +Satin had vanished. +</p> + +<p> +“Gracious, where can she be?” she loudly ejaculated. +</p> + +<p> +The sturdy, fair woman who had been overwhelming Satin with civil attentions +laughed ill-temperedly, and when Nana, whom the laugh irritated, looked +threatening she remarked in a soft, drawling way: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s certainly not me that’s done you this turn; it’s +the other one!” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon Nana understood that they would most likely make game of her and so +said nothing more. She even kept her seat for some moments, as she did not wish +to show how angry she felt. She could hear Lucy Stewart laughing at the end of +the next saloon, where she was treating a whole table of little women who had +come from the public balls at Montmartre and La Chapelle. It was very hot; the +servant was carrying away piles of dirty plates with a strong scent of boiled +fowl and rice, while the four gentlemen had ended by regaling quite half a +dozen couples with capital wine in the hope of making them tipsy and hearing +some pretty stiffish things. What at present most exasperated Nana was the +thought of paying for Satin’s dinner. There was a wench for you, who +allowed herself to be amused and then made off with never a thank-you in +company with the first petticoat that came by! Without doubt it was only a +matter of three francs, but she felt it was hard lines all the same—her +way of doing it was too disgusting. Nevertheless, she paid up, throwing the six +francs at Laure, whom at the moment she despised more than the mud in the +street. In the Rue des Martyrs Nana felt her bitterness increasing. She was +certainly not going to run after Satin! It was a nice filthy business for one +to be poking one’s nose into! But her evening was spoiled, and she walked +slowly up again toward Montmartre, raging against Mme Robert in particular. +Gracious goodness, that woman had a fine cheek to go playing the +lady—yes, the lady in the dustbin! She now felt sure she had met her at +the Papillon, a wretched public-house ball in the Rue des Poissonniers, where +men conquered her scruples for thirty sous. And to think a thing like that got +hold of important functionaries with her modest looks! And to think she refused +suppers to which one did her the honor of inviting her because, forsooth, she +was playing the virtuous game! Oh yes, she’d get virtued! It was always +those conceited prudes who went the most fearful lengths in low corners nobody +knew anything about. +</p> + +<p> +Revolving these matters, Nana at length reached her home in the Rue Veron and +was taken aback on observing a light in the window. Fontan had come home in a +sulk, for he, too, had been deserted by the friend who had been dining with +him. He listened coldly to her explanations while she trembled lest he should +strike her. It scared her to find him at home, seeing that she had not expected +him before one in the morning, and she told him a fib and confessed that she +had certainly spent six francs, but in Mme Maloir’s society. He was not +ruffled, however, and he handed her a letter which, though addressed to her, he +had quietly opened. It was a letter from Georges, who was still a prisoner at +Les Fondettes and comforted himself weekly with the composition of glowing +pages. Nana loved to be written to, especially when the letters were full of +grand, loverlike expressions with a sprinkling of vows. She used to read them +to everybody. Fontan was familiar with the style employed by Georges and +appreciated it. But that evening she was so afraid of a scene that she affected +complete indifference, skimming through the letter with a sulky expression and +flinging it aside as soon as read. Fontan had begun beating a tattoo on a +windowpane; the thought of going to bed so early bored him, and yet he did not +know how to employ his evening. He turned briskly round: +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose we answer that young vagabond at once,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +It was the custom for him to write the letters in reply. He was wont to vie +with the other in point of style. Then, too, he used to be delighted when Nana, +grown enthusiastic after the letter had been read over aloud, would kiss him +with the announcement that nobody but he could “say things like +that.” Thus their latent affections would be stirred, and they would end +with mutual adoration. +</p> + +<p> +“As you will,” she replied. “I’ll make tea, and +we’ll go to bed after.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon Fontan installed himself at the table on which pen, ink and paper +were at the same time grandly displayed. He curved his arm; he drew a long +face. +</p> + +<p> +“My heart’s own,” he began aloud. +</p> + +<p> +And for more than an hour he applied himself to his task, polishing here, +weighing a phrase there, while he sat with his head between his hands and +laughed inwardly whenever he hit upon a peculiarly tender expression. Nana had +already consumed two cups of tea in silence, when at last he read out the +letter in the level voice and with the two or three emphatic gestures peculiar +to such performances on the stage. It was five pages long, and he spoke therein +of “the delicious hours passed at La Mignotte, those hours of which the +memory lingered like subtle perfume.” He vowed “eternal fidelity to +that springtide of love” and ended by declaring that his sole wish was to +“recommence that happy time if, indeed, happiness can recommence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say that out of politeness, y’know,” he explained. +“The moment it becomes laughable—eh, what! I think she’s felt +it, she has!” +</p> + +<p> +He glowed with triumph. But Nana was unskillful; she still suspected an +outbreak and now was mistaken enough not to fling her arms round his neck in a +burst of admiration. She thought the letter a respectable performance, nothing +more. Thereupon he was much annoyed. If his letter did not please her she might +write another! And so instead of bursting out in loverlike speeches and +exchanging kisses, as their wont was, they sat coldly facing one another at the +table. Nevertheless, she poured him out a cup of tea. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s a filthy mess,” he cried after dipping his lips in +the mixture. “You’ve put salt in it, you have!” +</p> + +<p> +Nana was unlucky enough to shrug her shoulders, and at that he grew furious. +</p> + +<p> +“Aha! Things are taking a wrong turn tonight!” +</p> + +<p> +And with that the quarrel began. It was only ten by the clock, and this was a +way of killing time. So he lashed himself into a rage and threw in Nana’s +teeth a whole string of insults and all kinds of accusations which followed one +another so closely that she had no time to defend herself. She was dirty; she +was stupid; she had knocked about in all sorts of low places! After that he +waxed frantic over the money question. Did he spend six francs when he dined +out? No, somebody was treating him to a dinner; otherwise he would have eaten +his ordinary meal at home. And to think of spending them on that old procuress +of a Maloir, a jade he would chuck out of the house tomorrow! Yes, by jingo, +they would get into a nice mess if he and she were to go throwing six francs +out of the window every day! +</p> + +<p> +“Now to begin with, I want your accounts,” he shouted. +“Let’s see; hand over the money! Now where do we stand?” +</p> + +<p> +All his sordid avaricious instincts came to the surface. Nana was cowed and +scared, and she made haste to fetch their remaining cash out of the desk and to +bring it him. Up to that time the key had lain on this common treasury, from +which they had drawn as freely as they wished. +</p> + +<p> +“How’s this?” he said when he had counted up the money. +“There are scarcely seven thousand francs remaining out of seventeen +thousand, and we’ve only been together three months. The thing’s +impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +He rushed forward, gave the desk a savage shake and brought the drawer forward +in order to ransack it in the light of the lamp. But it actually contained only +six thousand eight hundred and odd francs. Thereupon the tempest burst forth. +</p> + +<p> +“Ten thousand francs in three months!” he yelled. “By God! +What have you done with it all? Eh? Answer! It all goes to your jade of an +aunt, eh? Or you’re keeping men; that’s plain! Will you +answer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh well, if you must get in a rage!” said Nana. “Why, the +calculation’s easily made! You haven’t allowed for the furniture; +besides, I’ve had to buy linen. Money goes quickly when one’s +settling in a new place.” +</p> + +<p> +But while requiring explanations he refused to listen to them. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it goes a deal too quickly!” he rejoined more calmly. +“And look here, little girl, I’ve had enough of this mutual +housekeeping. You know those seven thousand francs are mine. Yes, and as +I’ve got ’em, I shall keep ’em! Hang it, the moment you +become wasteful I get anxious not to be ruined. To each man his own.” +</p> + +<p> +And he pocketed the money in a lordly way while Nana gazed at him, dumfounded. +He continued speaking complaisantly: +</p> + +<p> +“You must understand I’m not such a fool as to keep aunts and +likewise children who don’t belong to me. You were pleased to spend your +own money—well, that’s your affair! But my money—no, +that’s sacred! When in the future you cook a leg of mutton I’ll pay +for half of it. We’ll settle up tonight—there!” +</p> + +<p> +Straightway Nana rebelled. She could not help shouting: +</p> + +<p> +“Come, I say, it’s you who’ve run through my ten thousand +francs. It’s a dirty trick, I tell you!” +</p> + +<p> +But he did not stop to discuss matters further, for he dealt her a random box +on the ear across the table, remarking as he did so: +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s have that again!” +</p> + +<p> +She let him have it again despite his blow. Whereupon he fell upon her and +kicked and cuffed her heartily. Soon he had reduced her to such a state that +she ended, as her wont was, by undressing and going to bed in a flood of tears. +</p> + +<p> +He was out of breath and was going to bed, in his turn, when he noticed the +letter he had written to Georges lying on the table. Whereupon he folded it up +carefully and, turning toward the bed, remarked in threatening accents: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very well written, and I’m going to post it myself +because I don’t like women’s fancies. Now don’t go moaning +any more; it puts my teeth on edge.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana, who was crying and gasping, thereupon held her breath. When he was in bed +she choked with emotion and threw herself upon his breast with a wild burst of +sobs. Their scuffles always ended thus, for she trembled at the thought of +losing him and, like a coward, wanted always to feel that he belonged entirely +to her, despite everything. Twice he pushed her magnificently away, but the +warm embrace of this woman who was begging for mercy with great, tearful eyes, +as some faithful brute might do, finally aroused desire. And he became royally +condescending without, however, lowering his dignity before any of her +advances. In fact, he let himself be caressed and taken by force, as became a +man whose forgiveness is worth the trouble of winning. Then he was seized with +anxiety, fearing that Nana was playing a part with a view to regaining +possession of the treasury key. The light had been extinguished when he felt it +necessary to reaffirm his will and pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +“You must know, my girl, that this is really very serious and that I keep +the money.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana, who was falling asleep with her arms round his neck, uttered a sublime +sentiment. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you need fear nothing! I’ll work for both of us!” +</p> + +<p> +But from that evening onward their life in common became more and more +difficult. From one week’s end to the other the noise of slaps filled the +air and resembled the ticking of a clock by which they regulated their +existence. Through dint of being much beaten Nana became as pliable as fine +linen; her skin grew delicate and pink and white and so soft to the touch and +clear to the view that she may be said to have grown more good looking than +ever. Prullière, moreover, began running after her like a madman, coming in +when Fontan was away and pushing her into corners in order to snatch an +embrace. But she used to struggle out of his grasp, full of indignation and +blushing with shame. It disgusted her to think of him wanting to deceive a +friend. Prullière would thereupon begin sneering with a wrathful expression. +Why, she was growing jolly stupid nowadays! How could she take up with such an +ape? For, indeed, Fontan was a regular ape with that great swingeing nose of +his. Oh, he had an ugly mug! Besides, the man knocked her about too! +</p> + +<p> +“It’s possible I like him as he is,” she one day made answer +in the quiet voice peculiar to a woman who confesses to an abominable taste. +</p> + +<p> +Bosc contented himself by dining with them as often as possible. He shrugged +his shoulders behind Prullière’s back—a pretty fellow, to be sure, +but a frivolous! Bosc had on more than one occasion assisted at domestic +scenes, and at dessert, when Fontan slapped Nana, he went on chewing solemnly, +for the thing struck him as being quite in the course of nature. In order to +give some return for his dinner he used always to go into ecstasies over their +happiness. He declared himself a philosopher who had given up everything, glory +included. At times Prullière and Fontan lolled back in their chairs, losing +count of time in front of the empty table, while with theatrical gestures and +intonation they discussed their former successes till two in the morning. But +he would sit by, lost in thought, finishing the brandy bottle in silence and +only occasionally emitting a little contemptuous sniff. Where was Talma’s +tradition? Nowhere. Very well, let them leave him jolly well alone! It was too +stupid to go on as they were doing! +</p> + +<p> +One evening he found Nana in tears. She took off her dressing jacket in order +to show him her back and her arms, which were black and blue. He looked at her +skin without being tempted to abuse the opportunity, as that ass of a Prullière +would have been. Then, sententiously: +</p> + +<p> +“My dear girl, where there are women there are sure to be ructions. It +was Napoleon who said that, I think. Wash yourself with salt water. Salt +water’s the very thing for those little knocks. Tut, tut, you’ll +get others as bad, but don’t complain so long as no bones are broken. +I’m inviting myself to dinner, you know; I’ve spotted a leg of +mutton.” +</p> + +<p> +But Mme Lerat had less philosophy. Every time Nana showed her a fresh bruise on +the white skin she screamed aloud. They were killing her niece; things +couldn’t go on as they were doing. As a matter of fact, Fontan had turned +Mme Lerat out of doors and had declared that he would not have her at his house +in the future, and ever since that day, when he returned home and she happened +to be there, she had to make off through the kitchen, which was a horrible +humiliation to her. Accordingly she never ceased inveighing against that brutal +individual. She especially blamed his ill breeding, pursing up her lips, as she +did so, like a highly respectable lady whom nobody could possibly remonstrate +with on the subject of good manners. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you notice it at once,” she used to tell Nana; “he +hasn’t the barest notion of the very smallest proprieties. His mother +must have been common! Don’t deny it—the thing’s obvious! I +don’t speak on my own account, though a person of my years has a right to +respectful treatment, but YOU—how do YOU manage to put up with his bad +manners? For though I don’t want to flatter myself, I’ve always +taught you how to behave, and among our own people you always enjoyed the best +possible advice. We were all very well bred in our family, weren’t we +now?” +</p> + +<p> +Nana used never to protest but would listen with bowed head. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, too,” continued the aunt, “you’ve only known +perfect gentlemen hitherto. We were talking of that very topic with Zoé at my +place yesterday evening. She can’t understand it any more than I can. +‘How is it,’ she said, ‘that Madame, who used to have that +perfect gentleman, Monsieur le Comte, at her beck and call’—for +between you and me, it seems you drove him silly—‘how is it that +Madame lets herself be made into mincemeat by that clown of a fellow?’ I +remarked at the time that you might put up with the beatings but that I would +never have allowed him to be lacking in proper respect. In fact, there +isn’t a word to be said for him. I wouldn’t have his portrait in my +room even! And you ruin yourself for such a bird as that; yes, you ruin +yourself, my darling; you toil and you moil, when there are so many others and +such rich men, too, some of them even connected with the government! Ah well, +it’s not I who ought to be telling you this, of course! But all the same, +when next he tries any of his dirty tricks on I should cut him short with a +‘Monsieur, what d’you take me for?’ You know how to say it in +that grand way of yours! It would downright cripple him.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon Nana burst into sobs and stammered out: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Aunt, I love him!” +</p> + +<p> +The fact of the matter was that Mme Lerat was beginning to feel anxious at the +painful way her niece doled out the sparse, occasional francs destined to pay +for little Louis’s board and lodging. Doubtless she was willing to make +sacrifices and to keep the child by her whatever might happen while waiting for +more prosperous times, but the thought that Fontan was preventing her and the +brat and its mother from swimming in a sea of gold made her so savage that she +was ready to deny the very existence of true love. Accordingly she ended up +with the following severe remarks: +</p> + +<p> +“Now listen, some fine day when he’s taken the skin off your back, +you’ll come and knock at my door, and I’ll open it to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Soon money began to engross Nana’s whole attention. Fontan had caused the +seven thousand francs to vanish away. Without doubt they were quite safe; +indeed, she would never have dared ask him questions about them, for she was +wont to be blushingly diffident with that bird, as Mme Lerat called him. She +trembled lest he should think her capable of quarreling with him about +halfpence. He had certainly promised to subscribe toward their common household +expenses, and in the early days he had given out three francs every morning. +But he was as exacting as a boarder; he wanted everything for his three +francs—butter, meat, early fruit and early vegetables—and if she +ventured to make an observation, if she hinted that you could not have +everything in the market for three francs, he flew into a temper and treated +her as a useless, wasteful woman, a confounded donkey whom the tradespeople +were robbing. Moreover, he was always ready to threaten that he would take +lodgings somewhere else. At the end of a month on certain mornings he had +forgotten to deposit the three francs on the chest of drawers, and she had +ventured to ask for them in a timid, roundabout way. Whereupon there had been +such bitter disputes and he had seized every pretext to render her life so +miserable that she had found it best no longer to count upon him. Whenever, +however, he had omitted to leave behind the three one-franc pieces and found a +dinner awaiting him all the same, he grew as merry as a sandboy, kissed Nana +gallantly and waltzed with the chairs. And she was so charmed by this conduct +that she at length got to hope that nothing would be found on the chest of +drawers, despite the difficulty she experienced in making both ends meet. One +day she even returned him his three francs, telling him a tale to the effect +that she still had yesterday’s money. As he had given her nothing then, +he hesitated for some moments, as though he dreaded a lecture. But she gazed at +him with her loving eyes and hugged him in such utter self-surrender that he +pocketed the money again with that little convulsive twitch or the fingers +peculiar to a miser when he regains possession of that which has been well-nigh +lost. From that day forth he never troubled himself about money again or +inquired whence it came. But when there were potatoes on the table he looked +intoxicated with delight and would laugh and smack his lips before her turkeys +and legs of mutton, though of course this did not prevent his dealing Nana +sundry sharp smacks, as though to keep his hand in amid all his happiness. +</p> + +<p> +Nana had indeed found means to provide for all needs, and the place on certain +days overflowed with good things. Twice a week, regularly, Bosc had +indigestion. One evening as Mme Lerat was withdrawing from the scene in high +dudgeon because she had noticed a copious dinner she was not destined to eat in +process of preparation, she could not prevent herself asking brutally who paid +for it all. Nana was taken by surprise; she grew foolish and began crying. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, that’s a pretty business,” said the aunt, who had +divined her meaning. +</p> + +<p> +Nana had resigned herself to it for the sake of enjoying peace in her own home. +Then, too, the Tricon was to blame. She had come across her in the Rue de Laval +one fine day when Fontan had gone out raging about a dish of cod. She had +accordingly consented to the proposals made her by the Tricon, who happened +just then to be in difficulty. As Fontan never came in before six +o’clock, she made arrangements for her afternoons and used to bring back +forty francs, sixty francs, sometimes more. She might have made it a matter of +ten and fifteen louis had she been able to maintain her former position, but as +matters stood she was very glad thus to earn enough to keep the pot boiling. At +night she used to forget all her sorrows when Bosc sat there bursting with +dinner and Fontan leaned on his elbows and with an expression of lofty +superiority becoming a man who is loved for his own sake allowed her to kiss +him on the eyelids. +</p> + +<p> +In due course Nana’s very adoration of her darling, her dear old duck, +which was all the more passionately blind, seeing that now she paid for +everything, plunged her back into the muddiest depths of her calling. She +roamed the streets and loitered on the pavement in quest of a five-franc piece, +just as when she was a slipshod baggage years ago. One Sunday at La +Rochefoucauld Market she had made her peace with Satin after having flown at +her with furious reproaches about Mme Robert. But Satin had been content to +answer that when one didn’t like a thing there was no reason why one +should want to disgust others with it. And Nana, who was by way of being +wide-minded, had accepted the philosophic view that you never can tell where +your tastes will lead you and had forgiven her. Her curiosity was even excited, +and she began questioning her about obscure vices and was astounded to be +adding to her information at her time of life and with her knowledge. She burst +out laughing and gave vent to various expressions of surprise. It struck her as +so queer, and yet she was a little shocked by it, for she was really quite the +philistine outside the pale of her own habits. So she went back to +Laure’s and fed there when Fontan was dining out. She derived much +amusement from the stories and the amours and the jealousies which inflamed the +female customers without hindering their appetites in the slightest degree. +Nevertheless, she still was not quite in it, as she herself phrased it. The +vast Laure, meltingly maternal as ever, used often to invite her to pass a day +or two at her Asnièries Villa, a country house containing seven spare bedrooms. +But she used to refuse; she was afraid. Satin, however, swore she was mistaken +about it, that gentlemen from Paris swung you in swings and played tonneau with +you, and so she promised to come at some future time when it would be possible +for her to leave town. +</p> + +<p> +At that time Nana was much tormented by circumstances and not at all festively +inclined. She needed money, and when the Tricon did not want her, which too +often happened, she had no notion where to bestow her charms. Then began a +series of wild descents upon the Parisian pavement, plunges into the baser sort +of vice, whose votaries prowl in muddy bystreets under the restless flicker of +gas lamps. Nana went back to the public-house balls in the suburbs, where she +had kicked up her heels in the early ill-shod days. She revisited the dark +corners on the outer boulevards, where when she was fifteen years old men used +to hug her while her father was looking for her in order to give her a hiding. +Both the women would speed along, visiting all the ballrooms and restaurants in +a quarter and climbing innumerable staircases which were wet with spittle and +spilled beer, or they would stroll quietly about, going up streets and planting +themselves in front of carriage gates. Satin, who had served her apprenticeship +in the Quartier Latin, used to take Nana to Bullier’s and the public +houses in the Boulevard Saint-Michel. But the vacations were drawing on, and +the Quarter looked too starved. Eventually they always returned to the +principal boulevards, for it was there they ran the best chance of getting what +they wanted. From the heights of Montmartre to the observatory plateau they +scoured the whole town in the way we have been describing. They were out on +rainy evenings, when their boots got worn down, and on hot evenings, when their +linen clung to their skins. There were long periods of waiting and endless +periods of walking; there were jostlings and disputes and the nameless, brutal +caresses of the stray passer-by who was taken by them to some miserable +furnished room and came swearing down the greasy stairs afterward. +</p> + +<p> +The summer was drawing to a close, a stormy summer of burning nights. The pair +used to start out together after dinner, toward nine o’clock. On the +pavements of the Rue Notre Dame de la Lorette two long files of women scudded +along with tucked-up skirts and bent heads, keeping close to the shops but +never once glancing at the displays in the shopwindows as they hurried busily +down toward the boulevards. This was the hungry exodus from the Quartier Breda +which took place nightly when the street lamps had just been lit. Nana and +Satin used to skirt the church and then march off along the Rue le Peletier. +When they were some hundred yards from the Café Riche and had fairly reached +their scene of operations they would shake out the skirts of their dresses, +which up till that moment they had been holding carefully up, and begin +sweeping the pavements, regardless of dust. With much swaying of the hips they +strolled delicately along, slackening their pace when they crossed the bright +light thrown from one of the great cafes. With shoulders thrown back, shrill +and noisy laughter and many backward glances at the men who turned to look at +them, they marched about and were completely in their element. In the shadow of +night their artificially whitened faces, their rouged lips and their darkened +eyelids became as charming and suggestive as if the inmates of a make-believe +trumpery oriental bazaar had been sent forth into the open street. Till eleven +at night they sauntered gaily along among the rudely jostling crowds, +contenting themselves with an occasional “dirty ass!” hurled after +the clumsy people whose boot heels had torn a flounce or two from their +dresses. Little familiar salutations would pass between them and the cafe +waiters, and at times they would stop and chat in front of a small table and +accept of drinks, which they consumed with much deliberation, as became people +not sorry to sit down for a bit while waiting for the theaters to empty. But as +night advanced, if they had not made one or two trips in the direction of the +Rue la Rochefoucauld, they became abject strumpets, and their hunt for men grew +more ferocious than ever. Beneath the trees in the darkening and fast-emptying +boulevards fierce bargainings took place, accompanied by oaths and blows. +Respectable family parties—fathers, mothers and daughters—who were +used to such scenes, would pass quietly by the while without quickening their +pace. Afterward, when they had walked from the opera to the GYMNASE some +half-score times and in the deepening night men were rapidly dropping off +homeward for good and all, Nana and Satin kept to the sidewalk in the Rue du +Faubourg Montmartre. There up till two o’clock in the morning +restaurants, bars and ham-and-beef shops were brightly lit up, while a noisy +mob of women hung obstinately round the doors of the cafes. This suburb was the +only corner of night Paris which was still alight and still alive, the only +market still open to nocturnal bargains. These last were openly struck between +group and group and from one end of the street to the other, just as in the +wide and open corridor of a disorderly house. On such evenings as the pair came +home without having had any success they used to wrangle together. The Rue +Notre Dame de la Lorette stretched dark and deserted in front of them. Here and +there the crawling shadow of a woman was discernible, for the Quarter was going +home and going home late, and poor creatures, exasperated at a night of +fruitless loitering, were unwilling to give up the chase and would still stand, +disputing in hoarse voices with any strayed reveler they could catch at the +corner of the Rue Breda or the Rue Fontaine. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, some windfalls came in their way now and then in the shape of +louis picked up in the society of elegant gentlemen, who slipped their +decorations into their pockets as they went upstairs with them. Satin had an +especially keen scent for these. On rainy evenings, when the dripping city +exhaled an unpleasant odor suggestive of a great untidy bed, she knew that the +soft weather and the fetid reek of the town’s holes and corners were sure +to send the men mad. And so she watched the best dressed among them, for she +knew by their pale eyes what their state was. On such nights it was as though a +fit of fleshly madness were passing over Paris. The girl was rather nervous +certainly, for the most modish gentlemen were always the most obscene. All the +varnish would crack off a man, and the brute beast would show itself, exacting, +monstrous in lust, a past master in corruption. But besides being nervous, that +trollop of a Satin was lacking in respect. She would blurt out awful things in +front of dignified gentlemen in carriages and assure them that their coachmen +were better bred than they because they behaved respectfully toward the women +and did not half kill them with their diabolical tricks and suggestions. The +way in which smart people sprawled head over heels into all the cesspools of +vice still caused Nana some surprise, for she had a few prejudices remaining, +though Satin was rapidly destroying them. +</p> + +<p> +“Well then,” she used to say when talking seriously about the +matter, “there’s no such thing as virtue left, is there?” +</p> + +<p> +From one end of the social ladder to the other everybody was on the loose! Good +gracious! Some nice things ought to be going on in Paris between nine +o’clock in the evening and three in the morning! And with that she began +making very merry and declaring that if one could only have looked into every +room one would have seen some funny sights—the little people going it +head over ears and a good lot of swells, too, playing the swine rather harder +than the rest. Oh, she was finishing her education! +</p> + +<p> +One evening when she came to call for Satin she recognized the Marquis de +Chouard. He was coming downstairs with quaking legs; his face was ashen white, +and he leaned heavily on the banisters. She pretended to be blowing her nose. +Upstairs she found Satin amid indescribable filth. No household work had been +done for a week; her bed was disgusting, and ewers and basins were standing +about in all directions. Nana expressed surprise at her knowing the marquis. Oh +yes, she knew him! He had jolly well bored her confectioner and her when they +were together. At present he used to come back now and then, but he nearly +bothered her life out, going sniffing into all the dirty corners—yes, +even into her slippers! +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, dear girl, my slippers! Oh, he’s the dirtiest old beast, +always wanting one to do things!” +</p> + +<p> +The sincerity of these low debauches rendered Nana especially uneasy. Seeing +the courtesans around her slowly dying of it every day, she recalled to mind +the comedy of pleasure she had taken part in when she was in the heyday of +success. Moreover, Satin inspired her with an awful fear of the police. She was +full of anecdotes about them. Formerly she had been the mistress of a +plain-clothes man, had consented to this in order to be left in peace, and on +two occasions he had prevented her from being put “on the lists.” +But at present she was in a great fright, for if she were to be nabbed again +there was a clear case against her. You had only to listen to her! For the sake +of perquisites the police used to take up as many women as possible. They laid +hold of everybody and quieted you with a slap if you shouted, for they were +sure of being defended in their actions and rewarded, even when they had taken +a virtuous girl among the rest. In the summer they would swoop upon the +boulevard in parties of twelve or fifteen, surround a whole long reach of +sidewalk and fish up as many as thirty women in an evening. Satin, however, +knew the likely places, and the moment she saw a plain-clothes man heaving in +sight she took to her heels, while the long lines of women on the pavements +scattered in consternation and fled through the surrounding crowd. The dread of +the law and of the magistracy was such that certain women would stand as though +paralyzed in the doorways of the cafes while the raid was sweeping the avenue +without. But Satin was even more afraid of being denounced, for her pastry cook +had proved blackguard enough to threaten to sell her when she had left him. +Yes, that was a fake by which men lived on their mistresses! Then, too, there +were the dirty women who delivered you up out of sheer treachery if you were +prettier than they! Nana listened to these recitals and felt her terrors +growing upon her. She had always trembled before the law, that unknown power, +that form of revenge practiced by men able and willing to crush her in the +certain absence of all defenders. Saint-Lazare she pictured as a grave, a dark +hole, in which they buried live women after they had cut off their hair. She +admitted that it was only necessary to leave Fontan and seek powerful +protectors. But as matters stood it was in vain that Satin talked to her of +certain lists of women’s names, which it was the duty of the plainclothes +men to consult, and of certain photographs accompanying the lists, the +originals of which were on no account to be touched. The reassurance did not +make her tremble the less, and she still saw herself hustled and dragged along +and finally subjected to the official medical inspection. The thought of the +official armchair filled her with shame and anguish, for had she not bade it +defiance a score of times? +</p> + +<p> +Now it so happened that one evening toward the close of September, as she was +walking with Satin in the Boulevard Poissonnière, the latter suddenly began +tearing along at a terrible pace. And when Nana asked her what she meant +thereby: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the plain-clothes men!” whispered Satin. “Off +with you! Off with you!” A wild stampede took place amid the surging +crowd. Skirts streamed out behind and were torn. There were blows and shrieks. +A woman fell down. The crowd of bystanders stood hilariously watching this +rough police raid while the plain-clothes men rapidly narrowed their circle. +Meanwhile Nana had lost Satin. Her legs were failing her, and she would have +been taken up for a certainty had not a man caught her by the arm and led her +away in front of the angry police. It was Prullière, and he had just recognized +her. Without saying a word he turned down the Rue Rougemont with her. It was +just then quite deserted, and she was able to regain breath there, but at first +her faintness and exhaustion were such that he had to support her. She did not +even thank him. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here,” he said, “you must recover a bit. Come up to my +rooms.” +</p> + +<p> +He lodged in the Rue Bergère close by. But she straightened herself up at once. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t want to.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon he waxed coarse and rejoined: +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you want to, eh? Why, everybody visits my rooms.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I don’t.” +</p> + +<p> +In her opinion that explained everything. She was too fond of Fontan to betray +him with one of his friends. The other people ceased to count the moment there +was no pleasure in the business, and necessity compelled her to it. In view of +her idiotic obstinacy Prullière, as became a pretty fellow whose vanity had +been wounded, did a cowardly thing. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, do as you like!” he cried. “Only I don’t +side with you, my dear. You must get out of the scrape by yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +And with that he left her. Terrors got hold of her again, and scurrying past +shops and turning white whenever a man drew nigh, she fetched an immense +compass before reaching Montmartre. +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow, while still suffering from the shock of last night’s +terrors, Nana went to her aunt’s and at the foot of a small empty street +in the Batignolles found herself face to face with Labordette. At first they +both appeared embarrassed, for with his usual complaisance he was busy on a +secret errand. Nevertheless, he was the first to regain his self-possession and +to announce himself fortunate in meeting her. Yes, certainly, everybody was +still wondering at Nana’s total eclipse. People were asking for her, and +old friends were pining. And with that he grew quite paternal and ended by +sermonizing. +</p> + +<p> +“Frankly speaking, between you and me, my dear, the thing’s getting +stupid. One can understand a mash, but to go to that extent, to be trampled on +like that and to get nothing but knocks! Are you playing up for the +‘Virtue Prizes’ then?” +</p> + +<p> +She listened to him with an embarrassed expression. But when he told her about +Rose, who was triumphantly enjoying her conquest of Count Muffat, a flame came +into her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if I wanted to—” she muttered. +</p> + +<p> +As became an obliging friend, he at once offered to act as intercessor. But she +refused his help, and he thereupon attacked her in an opposite quarter. +</p> + +<p> +He informed her that Bordenave was busy mounting a play of Fauchery’s +containing a splendid part for her. +</p> + +<p> +“What, a play with a part!” she cried in amazement. “But +he’s in it and he’s told me nothing about it!” +</p> + +<p> +She did not mention Fontan by name. However, she grew calm again directly and +declared that she would never go on the stage again. Labordette doubtless +remained unconvinced, for he continued with smiling insistence. +</p> + +<p> +“You know, you need fear nothing with me. I get your Muffat ready for +you, and you go on the stage again, and I bring him to you like a little +dog!” +</p> + +<p> +“No!” she cried decisively. +</p> + +<p> +And she left him. Her heroic conduct made her tenderly pitiful toward herself. +No blackguard of a man would ever have sacrificed himself like that without +trumpeting the fact abroad. Nevertheless, she was struck by one thing: +Labordette had given her exactly the same advice as Francis had given her. That +evening when Fontan came home she questioned him about Fauchery’s piece. +The former had been back at the Variétés for two months past. Why then had he +not told her about the part? +</p> + +<p> +“What part?” he said in his ill-humored tone. “The grand +lady’s part, maybe? The deuce, you believe you’ve got talent then! +Why, such a part would utterly do for you, my girl! You’re meant for +comic business—there’s no denying it!” +</p> + +<p> +She was dreadfully wounded. All that evening he kept chaffing her, calling her +Mlle Mars. But the harder he hit the more bravely she suffered, for she derived +a certain bitter satisfaction from this heroic devotion of hers, which rendered +her very great and very loving in her own eyes. Ever since she had gone with +other men in order to supply his wants her love for him had increased, and the +fatigues and disgusts encountered outside only added to the flame. He was fast +becoming a sort of pet vice for which she paid, a necessity of existence it was +impossible to do without, seeing that blows only stimulated her desires. He, on +his part, seeing what a good tame thing she had become, ended by abusing his +privileges. She was getting on his nerves, and he began to conceive so fierce a +loathing for her that he forgot to keep count of his real interests. When Bosc +made his customary remarks to him he cried out in exasperation, for which there +was no apparent cause, that he had had enough of her and of her good dinners +and that he would shortly chuck her out of doors if only for the sake of making +another woman a present of his seven thousand francs. Indeed, that was how +their liaison ended. +</p> + +<p> +One evening Nana came in toward eleven o’clock and found the door bolted. +She tapped once—there was no answer; twice—still no answer. +Meanwhile she saw light under the door, and Fontan inside did not trouble to +move. She rapped again unwearyingly; she called him and began to get annoyed. +At length Fontan’s voice became audible; he spoke slowly and rather +unctuously and uttered but this one word. +</p> + +<p> +“MERDE!” +</p> + +<p> +She beat on the door with her fists. +</p> + +<p> +“MERDE!” +</p> + +<p> +She banged hard enough to smash in the woodwork. +</p> + +<p> +“MERDE!” +</p> + +<p> +And for upward of a quarter of an hour the same foul expression buffeted her, +answering like a jeering echo to every blow wherewith she shook the door. At +length, seeing that she was not growing tired, he opened sharply, planted +himself on the threshold, folded his arms and said in the same cold, brutal +voice: +</p> + +<p> +“By God, have you done yet? What d’you want? Are you going to let +us sleep in peace, eh? You can quite see I’ve got company tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +He was certainly not alone, for Nana perceived the little woman from the +Bouffes with the untidy tow hair and the gimlet-hole eyes, standing enjoying +herself in her shift among the furniture she had paid for. But Fontan stepped +out on the landing. He looked terrible, and he spread out and crooked his great +fingers as if they were pincers. +</p> + +<p> +“Hook it or I’ll strangle you!” +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon Nana burst into a nervous fit of sobbing. She was frightened and she +made off. This time it was she that was being kicked out of doors. And in her +fury the thought of Muffat suddenly occurred to her. Ah, to be sure, Fontan, of +all men, ought never to have done her such a turn! +</p> + +<p> +When she was out in the street her first thought was to go and sleep with +Satin, provided the girl had no one with her. She met her in front of her +house, for she, too, had been turned out of doors by her landlord. He had just +had a padlock affixed to her door—quite illegally, of course, seeing that +she had her own furniture. She swore and talked of having him up before the +commissary of police. In the meantime, as midnight was striking, they had to +begin thinking of finding a bed. And Satin, deeming it unwise to let the +plain-clothes men into her secrets, ended by taking Nana to a woman who kept a +little hotel in the Rue de Laval. Here they were assigned a narrow room on the +first floor, the window of which opened on the courtyard. Satin remarked: +</p> + +<p> +“I should gladly have gone to Mme Robert’s. There’s always a +corner there for me. But with you it’s out of the question. She’s +getting absurdly jealous; she beat me the other night.” +</p> + +<p> +When they had shut themselves in, Nana, who had not yet relieved her feelings, +burst into tears and again and again recounted Fontan’s dirty behavior. +Satin listened complaisantly, comforted her, grew even more angry than she in +denunciation of the male sex. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the pigs, the pigs! Look here, we’ll have nothing more to do +with them!” +</p> + +<p> +Then she helped Nana to undress with all the small, busy attentions, becoming a +humble little friend. She kept saying coaxingly: +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s go to bed as fast as we can, pet. We shall be better off +there! Oh, how silly you are to get crusty about things! I tell you, +they’re dirty brutes. Don’t think any more about ’em. +I—I love you very much. Don’t cry, and oblige your own little +darling girl.” +</p> + +<p> +And once in bed, she forthwith took Nana in her arms and soothed and comforted +her. She refused to hear Fontan’s name mentioned again, and each time it +recurred to her friend’s lips she stopped it with a kiss. Her lips pouted +in pretty indignation; her hair lay loose about her, and her face glowed with +tenderness and childlike beauty. Little by little her soft embrace compelled +Nana to dry her tears. She was touched and replied to Satin’s caresses. +When two o’clock struck the candle was still burning, and a sound of +soft, smothered laughter and lovers’ talk was audible in the room. +</p> + +<p> +But suddenly a loud noise came up from the lower floors of the hotel, and +Satin, with next to nothing on, got up and listened intently. +</p> + +<p> +“The police!” she said, growing very pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, blast our bad luck! We’re bloody well done for!” +</p> + +<p> +Often had she told stories about the raids on hotel made by the plainclothes +men. But that particular night neither of them had suspected anything when they +took shelter in the Rue de Laval. At the sound of the word “police” +Nana lost her head. She jumped out of bed and ran across the room with the +scared look of a madwoman about to jump out of the window. Luckily, however, +the little courtyard was roofed with glass, which was covered with an iron-wire +grating at the level of the girls’ bedroom. At sight of this she ceased +to hesitate; she stepped over the window prop, and with her chemise flying and +her legs bared to the night air she vanished in the gloom. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop! Stop!” said Satin in a great fright. “You’ll +kill yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Then as they began hammering at the door, she shut the window like a +good-natured girl and threw her friend’s clothes down into a cupboard. +She was already resigned to her fate and comforted herself with the thought +that, after all, if she were to be put on the official list she would no longer +be so “beastly frightened” as of yore. So she pretended to be heavy +with sleep. She yawned; she palavered and ended by opening the door to a tall, +burly fellow with an unkempt beard, who said to her: +</p> + +<p> +“Show your hands! You’ve got no needle pricks on them: you +don’t work. Now then, dress!” +</p> + +<p> +“But I’m not a dressmaker; I’m a burnisher,” Satin +brazenly declared. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, she dressed with much docility, knowing that argument was out of +the question. Cries were ringing through the hotel; a girl was clinging to +doorposts and refusing to budge an inch. Another girl, in bed with a lover, who +was answering for her legality, was acting the honest woman who had been +grossly insulted and spoke of bringing an action against the prefect of police. +For close on an hour there was a noise of heavy shoes on the stairs, of fists +hammering on doors, of shrill disputes terminating in sobs, of petticoats +rustling along the walls, of all the sounds, in fact, attendant on the sudden +awakening and scared departure of a flock of women as they were roughly packed +off by three plain-clothes men, headed by a little oily-mannered, fair-haired +commissary of police. After they had gone the hotel relapsed into deep silence. +</p> + +<p> +Nobody had betrayed her; Nana was saved. Shivering and half dead with fear, she +came groping back into the room. Her bare feet were cut and bleeding, for they +had been torn by the grating. For a long while she remained sitting on the edge +of the bed, listening and listening. Toward morning, however, she went to sleep +again, and at eight o’clock, when she woke up, she escaped from the hotel +and ran to her aunt’s. When Mme Lerat, who happened just then to be +drinking her morning coffee with Zoé, beheld her bedraggled plight and haggard +face, she took note of the hour and at once understood the state of the case. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s come to it, eh?” she cried. “I certainly told you +that he would take the skin off your back one of these days. Well, well, come +in; you’ll always find a kind welcome here.” +</p> + +<p> +Zoé had risen from her chair and was muttering with respectful familiarity: +</p> + +<p> +“Madame is restored to us at last. I was waiting for Madame.” +</p> + +<p> +But Mme Lerat insisted on Nana’s going and kissing Louiset at once, +because, she said, the child took delight in his mother’s nice ways. +Louiset, a sickly child with poor blood, was still asleep, and when Nana bent +over his white, scrofulous face, the memory of all she had undergone during the +last few months brought a choking lump into her throat. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my poor little one, my poor little one!” she gasped, bursting +into a final fit of sobbing. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"></a> CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p> +The Petite Duchesse was being rehearsed at the Variétés. The first act had just +been carefully gone through, and the second was about to begin. Seated in old +armchairs in front of the stage, Fauchery and Bordenave were discussing various +points while the prompter, Father Cossard, a little humpbacked man perched on a +straw-bottomed chair, was turning over the pages of the manuscript, a pencil +between his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what are they waiting for?” cried Bordenave on a sudden, +tapping the floor savagely with his heavy cane. “Barillot, why +don’t they begin?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Monsieur Bosc that has disappeared,” replied Barillot, +who was acting as second stage manager.’ +</p> + +<p> +Then there arose a tempest, and everybody shouted for Bosc while Bordenave +swore. +</p> + +<p> +“Always the same thing, by God! It’s all very well ringing for +’em: they’re always where they’ve no business to be. And then +they grumble when they’re kept till after four o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +But Bosc just then came in with supreme tranquillity. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh? What? What do they want me for? Oh, it’s my turn! You ought to +have said so. All right! Simonne gives the cue: ‘Here are the +guests,’ and I come in. Which way must I come in?” +</p> + +<p> +“Through the door, of course,” cried Fauchery in great +exasperation. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but where is the door?” +</p> + +<p> +At this Bordenave fell upon Barillot and once more set to work swearing and +hammering the boards with his cane. +</p> + +<p> +“By God! I said a chair was to be put there to stand for the door, and +every day we have to get it done again. Barillot! Where’s Barillot? +Another of ’em! Why, they’re all going!” +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, Barillot came and planted the chair down in person, mutely +weathering the storm as he did so. And the rehearsal began again. Simonne, in +her hat and furs, began moving about like a maidservant busy arranging +furniture. She paused to say: +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not warm, you know, so I keep my hands in my muff.” +</p> + +<p> +Then changing her voice, she greeted Bosc with a little cry: +</p> + +<p> +“La, it’s Monsieur le Comte. You’re the first to come, +Monsieur le Comte, and Madame will be delighted.” +</p> + +<p> +Bosc had muddy trousers and a huge yellow overcoat, round the collar of which a +tremendous comforter was wound. On his head he wore an old hat, and he kept his +hands in his pockets. He did not act but dragged himself along, remarking in a +hollow voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t disturb your mistress, Isabelle; I want to take her by +surprise.” +</p> + +<p> +The rehearsal took its course. Bordenave knitted his brows. He had slipped down +low in his armchair and was listening with an air of fatigue. Fauchery was +nervous and kept shifting about in his seat. Every few minutes he itched with +the desire to interrupt, but he restrained himself. He heard a whispering in +the dark and empty house behind him. +</p> + +<p> +“Is she there?” he asked, leaning over toward Bordenave. +</p> + +<p> +The latter nodded affirmatively. Before accepting the part of Geraldine, which +he was offering her, Nana had been anxious to see the piece, for she hesitated +to play a courtesan’s part a second time. She, in fact, aspired to an +honest woman’s part. Accordingly she was hiding in the shadows of a +corner box in company with Labordette, who was managing matters for her with +Bordenave. Fauchery glanced in her direction and then once more set himself to +follow the rehearsal. +</p> + +<p> +Only the front of the stage was lit up. A flaring gas burner on a support, +which was fed by a pipe from the footlights, burned in front of a reflector and +cast its full brightness over the immediate foreground. It looked like a big +yellow eye glaring through the surrounding semiobscurity, where it flamed in a +doubtful, melancholy way. Cossard was holding up his manuscript against the +slender stem of this arrangement. He wanted to see more clearly, and in the +flood of light his hump was sharply outlined. As to Bordenave and Fauchery, +they were already drowned in shadow. It was only in the heart of this enormous +structure, on a few square yards of stage, that a faint glow suggested the +light cast by some lantern nailed up in a railway station. It made the actors +look like eccentric phantoms and set their shadows dancing after them. The +remainder of the stage was full of mist and suggested a house in process of +being pulled down, a church nave in utter ruin. It was littered with ladders, +with set pieces and with scenery, of which the faded painting suggested +heaped-up rubbish. Hanging high in air, the scenes had the appearance of great +ragged clouts suspended from the rafters of some vast old-clothes shop, while +above these again a ray of bright sunlight fell from a window and clove the +shadow round the flies with a bar of gold. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile actors were chatting at the back of the stage while awaiting their +cues. Little by little they had raised their voices. +</p> + +<p> +“Confound it, will you be silent?” howled Bordenave, raging up and +down in his chair. “I can’t hear a word. Go outside if you want to +talk; WE are at work. Barillot, if there’s any more talking I clap on +fines all round!” +</p> + +<p> +They were silent for a second or two. They were sitting in a little group on a +bench and some rustic chairs in the corner of a scenic garden, which was +standing ready to be put in position as it would be used in the opening act the +same evening. In the middle of this group Fontan and Prullière were listening +to Rose Mignon, to whom the manager of the Folies-Dramatique Theatre had been +making magnificent offers. But a voice was heard shouting: +</p> + +<p> +“The duchess! Saint-Firmin! The duchess and Saint-Firmin are +wanted!” +</p> + +<p> +Only when the call was repeated did Prullière remember that he was +Saint-Firmin! Rose, who was playing the Duchess Helene, was already waiting to +go on with him while old Bosc slowly returned to his seat, dragging one foot +after the other over the sonorous and deserted boards. Clarisse offered him a +place on the bench beside her. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s he bawling like that for?” she said in allusion to +Bordenave. “Things will be getting rosy soon! A piece can’t be put +on nowadays without its getting on his nerves.” +</p> + +<p> +Bosc shrugged his shoulders; he was above such storms. Fontan whispered: +</p> + +<p> +“He’s afraid of a fiasco. The piece strikes me as idiotic.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he turned to Clarisse and again referred to what Rose had been telling +them: +</p> + +<p> +“D’you believe in the offers of the Folies people, eh? Three +hundred francs an evening for a hundred nights! Why not a country house into +the bargain? If his wife were to be given three hundred francs Mignon would +chuck my friend Bordenave and do it jolly sharp too!” +</p> + +<p> +Clarisse was a believer in the three hundred francs. That man Fontan was always +picking holes in his friends’ successes! Just then Simonne interrupted +her. She was shivering with cold. Indeed, they were all buttoned up to the ears +and had comforters on, and they looked up at the ray of sunlight which shone +brightly above them but did not penetrate the cold gloom of the theater. In the +streets outside there was a frost under a November sky. +</p> + +<p> +“And there’s no fire in the greenroom!” said Simonne. +“It’s disgusting; he IS just becoming a skinflint! I want to be +off; I don’t want to get seedy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Silence, I say!” Bordenave once more thundered. +</p> + +<p> +Then for a minute or so a confused murmur alone was audible as the actors went +on repeating their parts. There was scarcely any appropriate action, and they +spoke in even tones so as not to tire themselves. Nevertheless, when they did +emphasize a particular shade of meaning they cast a glance at the house, which +lay before them like a yawning gulf. It was suffused with vague, ambient +shadow, which resembled the fine dust floating pent in some high, windowless +loft. The deserted house, whose sole illumination was the twilight radiance of +the stage, seemed to slumber in melancholy and mysterious effacement. Near the +ceiling dense night smothered the frescoes, while from the several tiers of +stage boxes on either hand huge widths of gray canvas stretched down to protect +the neighboring hangings. In fact, there was no end to these coverings; bands +of canvas had been thrown over the velvet-covered ledges in front of the +various galleries which they shrouded thickly. Their pale hue stained the +surrounding shadows, and of the general decorations of the house only the dark +recesses of the boxes were distinguishable. These served to outline the +framework of the several stories, where the seats were so many stains of red +velvet turned black. The chandelier had been let down as far as it would go, +and it so filled the region of the stalls with its pendants as to suggest a +flitting and to set one thinking that the public had started on a journey from +which they would never return. +</p> + +<p> +Just about then Rose, as the little duchess who has been misled into the +society of a courtesan, came to the footlights, lifted up her hands and pouted +adorably at the dark and empty theater, which was as sad as a house of +mourning. +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens, what queer people!” she said, emphasizing the phrase +and confident that it would have its effect. +</p> + +<p> +Far back in the corner box in which she was hiding Nana sat enveloped in a +great shawl. She was listening to the play and devouring Rose with her eyes. +Turning toward Labordette, she asked him in a low tone: +</p> + +<p> +“You are sure he’ll come?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite sure. Without doubt he’ll come with Mignon, so as to have an +excuse for coming. As soon as he makes his appearance you’ll go up into +Mathilde’s dressing room, and I’ll bring him to you there.” +</p> + +<p> +They were talking of Count Muffat. Labordette had arranged this interview with +him on neutral ground. He had had a serious talk with Bordenave, whose affairs +had been gravely damaged by two successive failures. Accordingly Bordenave had +hastened to lend him his theater and to offer Nana a part, for he was anxious +to win the count’s favor and hoped to be able to borrow from him. +</p> + +<p> +“And this part of Geraldine, what d’you thing of it?” +continued Labordette. +</p> + +<p> +But Nana sat motionless and vouchsafed no reply. After the first act, in which +the author showed how the Duc de Beaurivage played his wife false with the +blonde Geraldine, a comic-opera celebrity, the second act witnessed the Duchess +Helene’s arrival at the house of the actress on the occasion of a masked +ball being given by the latter. The duchess has come to find out by what +magical process ladies of that sort conquer and retain their husbands’ +affections. A cousin, the handsome Oscar de Saint-Firmin, introduces her and +hopes to be able to debauch her. And her first lesson causes her great +surprise, for she hears Geraldine swearing like a hodman at the duke, who +suffers with most ecstatic submissiveness. The episode causes her to cry out, +“Dear me, if that’s the way one ought to talk to the men!” +Geraldine had scarce any other scene in the act save this one. As to the +duchess, she is very soon punished for her curiosity, for an old buck, the +Baron de Tardiveau, takes her for a courtesan and becomes very gallant, while +on her other side Beaurivage sits on a lounging chair and makes his peace with +Geraldine by dint of kisses and caresses. As this last lady’s part had +not yet been assigned to anyone, Father Cossard had got up to read it, and he +was now figuring away in Bosc’s arms and emphasizing it despite himself. +At this point, while the rehearsal was dragging monotonously on, Fauchery +suddenly jumped from his chair. He had restrained himself up to that moment, +but now his nerves got the better of him. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s not it!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +The actors paused awkwardly enough while Fontan sneered and asked in his most +contemptuous voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Eh? What’s not it? Who’s not doing it right?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody is! You’re quite wrong, quite wrong!” continued +Fauchery, and, gesticulating wildly, he came striding over the stage and began +himself to act the scene. +</p> + +<p> +“Now look here, you Fontan, do please comprehend the way Tardiveau gets +packed off. You must lean forward like this in order to catch hold of the +duchess. And then you, Rose, must change your position like that but not too +soon—only when you hear the kiss.” +</p> + +<p> +He broke off and in the heat of explanation shouted to Cossard: +</p> + +<p> +“Geraldine, give the kiss! Loudly, so that it may be heard!” +</p> + +<p> +Father Cossard turned toward Bosc and smacked his lips vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +“Good! That’s the kiss,” said Fauchery triumphantly. +“Once more; let’s have it once more. Now you see, Rose, I’ve +had time to move, and then I give a little cry—so: ‘Oh, she’s +given him a kiss.’ But before I do that, Tardiveau must go up the stage. +D’you hear, Fontan? You go up. Come, let’s try it again, all +together.” +</p> + +<p> +The actors continued the scene again, but Fontan played his part with such an +ill grace that they made no sort of progress. Twice Fauchery had to repeat his +explanation, each time acting it out with more warmth than before. The actors +listened to him with melancholy faces, gazed momentarily at one another, as +though he had asked them to walk on their heads, and then awkwardly essayed the +passage, only to pull up short directly afterward, looking as stiff as puppets +whose strings have just been snapped. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it beats me; I can’t understand it,” said Fontan at +length, speaking in the insolent manner peculiar to him. +</p> + +<p> +Bordenave had never once opened his lips. He had slipped quite down in his +armchair, so that only the top of his hat was now visible in the doubtful +flicker of the gaslight on the stand. His cane had fallen from his grasp and +lay slantwise across his waistcoat. Indeed, he seemed to be asleep. But +suddenly he sat bolt upright. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s idiotic, my boy,” he announced quietly to Fauchery. +</p> + +<p> +“What d’you mean, idiotic?” cried the author, growing very +pale. “It’s you that are the idiot, my dear boy!” +</p> + +<p> +Bordenave began to get angry at once. He repeated the word +“idiotic” and, seeking a more forcible expression, hit upon +“imbecile” and “damned foolish.” The public would hiss, +and the act would never be finished! And when Fauchery, without, indeed, being +very deeply wounded by these big phrases, which always recurred when a new +piece was being put on, grew savage and called the other a brute, Bordenave +went beyond all bounds, brandished his cane in the air, snorted like a bull and +shouted: +</p> + +<p> +“Good God! Why the hell can’t you shut up? We’ve lost a +quarter of an hour over this folly. Yes, folly! There’s no sense in it. +And it’s so simple, after all’s said and done! You, Fontan, +mustn’t move. You, Rose, must make your little movement, just that, no +more; d’ye see? And then you come down. Now then, let’s get it done +this journey. Give the kiss, Cossard.” +</p> + +<p> +Then ensued confusion. The scene went no better than before. Bordenave, in his +turn, showed them how to act it about as gracefully as an elephant might have +done, while Fauchery sneered and shrugged pityingly. After that Fontan put his +word in, and even Bosc made so bold as to give advice. Rose, thoroughly tired +out, had ended by sitting down on the chair which indicated the door. No one +knew where they had got to, and by way of finish to it all Simonne made a +premature entry, under the impression that her cue had been given her, and +arrived amid the confusion. This so enraged Bordenave that he whirled his stick +round in a terrific manner and caught her a sounding thwack to the rearward. At +rehearsal he used frequently to drub his former mistress. Simonne ran away, and +this furious outcry followed her: +</p> + +<p> +“Take that, and, by God, if I’m annoyed again I shut the whole shop +up at once!” +</p> + +<p> +Fauchery pushed his hat down over his forehead and pretended to be going to +leave the theater. But he stopped at the top of the stage and came down again +when he saw Bordenave perspiringly resuming his seat. Then he, too, took up his +old position in the other armchair. For some seconds they sat motionless side +by side while oppressive silence reigned in the shadowy house. The actors +waited for nearly two minutes. They were all heavy with exhaustion and felt as +though they had performed an overwhelming task. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let’s go on,” said Bordenave at last. He spoke in his +usual voice and was perfectly calm. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, let’s go on,” Fauchery repeated. “We’ll +arrange the scene tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +And with that they dragged on again and rehearsed their parts with as much +listlessness and as fine an indifference as ever. During the dispute between +manager and author Fontan and the rest had been taking things very comfortably +on the rustic bench and seats at the back of the stage, where they had been +chuckling, grumbling and saying fiercely cutting things. But when Simonne came +back, still smarting from her blow and choking with sobs, they grew +melodramatic and declared that had they been in her place they would have +strangled the swine. She began wiping her eyes and nodding approval. It was all +over between them, she said. She was leaving him, especially as Steiner had +offered to give her a grand start in life only the day before. Clarisse was +much astonished at this, for the banker was quite ruined, but Prullière began +laughing and reminded them of the neat manner in which that confounded +Israelite had puffed himself alongside of Rose in order to get his Landes +saltworks afloat on ’change. Just at that time he was airing a new +project, namely, a tunnel under the Bosporus. Simonne listened with the +greatest interest to this fresh piece of information. +</p> + +<p> +As to Clarisse, she had been raging for a week past. Just fancy, that beast La +Faloise, whom she had succeeded in chucking into Gaga’s venerable +embrace, was coming into the fortune of a very rich uncle! It was just her +luck; she had always been destined to make things cozy for other people. Then, +too, that pig Bordenave had once more given her a mere scrap of a part, a +paltry fifty lines, just as if she could not have played Geraldine! She was +yearning for that role and hoping that Nana would refuse it. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and what about me?” said Prullière with much bitterness. +“I haven’t got more than two hundred lines. I wanted to give the +part up. It’s too bad to make me play that fellow Saint-Firmin; why, +it’s a regular failure! And then what a style it’s written in, my +dears! It’ll fall dead flat, you may be sure.” +</p> + +<p> +But just then Simonne, who had been chatting with Father Barillot, came back +breathless and announced: +</p> + +<p> +“By the by, talking of Nana, she’s in the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where, where?” asked Clarisse briskly, getting up to look for her. +</p> + +<p> +The news spread at once, and everyone craned forward. The rehearsal was, as it +were, momentarily interrupted. But Bordenave emerged from his quiescent +condition, shouting: +</p> + +<p> +“What’s up, eh? Finish the act, I say. And be quiet out there; +it’s unbearable!” +</p> + +<p> +Nana was still following the piece from the corner box. Twice Labordette showed +an inclination to chat, but she grew impatient and nudged him to make him keep +silent. The second act was drawing to a close, when two shadows loomed at the +back of the theater. They were creeping softly down, avoiding all noise, and +Nana recognized Mignon and Count Muffat. They came forward and silently shook +hands with Bordenave. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, there they are,” she murmured with a sigh of relief. +</p> + +<p> +Rose Mignon delivered the last sentences of the act. Thereupon Bordenave said +that it was necessary to go through the second again before beginning the +third. With that he left off attending to the rehearsal and greeted the count +with looks of exaggerated politeness, while Fauchery pretended to be entirely +engrossed with his actors, who now grouped themselves round him. Mignon stood +whistling carelessly, with his hands behind his back and his eyes fixed +complacently on his wife, who seemed rather nervous. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, shall we go upstairs?” Labordette asked Nana. +“I’ll install you in the dressing room and come down again and +fetch him.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana forthwith left the corner box. She had to grope her way along the passage +outside the stalls, but Bordenave guessed where she was as she passed along in +the dark and caught her up at the end of the corridor passing behind the +scenes, a narrow tunnel where the gas burned day and night. Here, in order to +bluff her into a bargain, he plunged into a discussion of the courtesan’s +part. +</p> + +<p> +“What a part it is, eh? What a wicked little part! It’s made for +you. Come and rehearse tomorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana was frigid. She wanted to know what the third act was like. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s superb, the third act is! The duchess plays the courtesan +in her own house and this disgusts Beaurivage and makes him amend his way. Then +there’s an awfully funny QUID PRO QUO, when Tardiveau arrives and is +under the impression that he’s at an opera dancer’s house.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what does Geraldine do in it all?” interrupted Nana. +</p> + +<p> +“Geraldine?” repeated Bordenave in some embarrassment. “She +has a scene—not a very long one, but a great success. It’s made for +you, I assure you! Will you sign?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked steadily at him and at length made answer: +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll see about that all in good time.” +</p> + +<p> +And she rejoined Labordette, who was waiting for her on the stairs. Everybody +in the theater had recognized her, and there was now much whispering, +especially between Prullière, who was scandalized at her return, and Clarisse +who was very desirous of the part. As to Fontan, he looked coldly on, +pretending unconcern, for he did not think it becoming to round on a woman he +had loved. Deep down in his heart, though, his old love had turned to hate, and +he nursed the fiercest rancor against her in return for the constant devotion, +the personal beauty, the life in common, of which his perverse and monstrous +tastes had made him tire. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime, when Labordette reappeared and went up to the count, Rose +Mignon, whose suspicions Nana’s presence had excited, understood it all +forthwith. Muffat was bothering her to death, but she was beside herself at the +thought of being left like this. She broke the silence which she usually +maintained on such subjects in her husband’s society and said bluntly: +</p> + +<p> +“You see what’s going on? My word, if she tries the Steiner trick +on again I’ll tear her eyes out!” +</p> + +<p> +Tranquilly and haughtily Mignon shrugged his shoulders, as became a man from +whom nothing could be hidden. +</p> + +<p> +“Do be quiet,” he muttered. “Do me the favor of being quiet, +won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +He knew what to rely on now. He had drained his Muffat dry, and he knew that at +a sign from Nana he was ready to lie down and be a carpet under her feet. There +is no fighting against passions such as that. Accordingly, as he knew what men +were, he thought of nothing but how to turn the situation to the best possible +account. +</p> + +<p> +It would be necessary to wait on the course of events. And he waited on them. +</p> + +<p> +“Rose, it’s your turn!” shouted Bordenave. “The second +act’s being begun again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Off with you then,” continued Mignon, “and let me arrange +matters.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he began bantering, despite all his troubles, and was pleased to +congratulate Fauchery on his piece. A very strong piece! Only why was his great +lady so chaste? It wasn’t natural! With that he sneered and asked who had +sat for the portrait of the Duke of Beaurivage, Geraldine’s wornout roue. +Fauchery smiled; he was far from annoyed. But Bordenave glanced in +Muffat’s direction and looked vexed, and Mignon was struck at this and +became serious again. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s begin, for God’s sake!” yelled the manager. +“Now then, Barillot! Eh? What? Isn’t Bosc there? Is he bloody well +making game of me now?” +</p> + +<p> +Bosc, however, made his appearance quietly enough, and the rehearsal began +again just as Labordette was taking the count away with him. The latter was +tremulous at the thought of seeing Nana once more. After the rupture had taken +place between them there had been a great void in his life. He was idle and +fancied himself about to suffer through the sudden change his habits had +undergone, and accordingly he had let them take him to see Rose. Besides, his +brain had been in such a whirl that he had striven to forget everything and had +strenuously kept from seeking out Nana while avoiding an explanation with the +countess. He thought, indeed, that he owed his dignity such a measure of +forgetfulness. But mysterious forces were at work within, and Nana began slowly +to reconquer him. First came thoughts of her, then fleshly cravings and finally +a new set of exclusive, tender, well-nigh paternal feelings. +</p> + +<p> +The abominable events attendant on their last interview were gradually effacing +themselves. He no longer saw Fontan; he no longer heard the stinging taunt +about his wife’s adultery with which Nana cast him out of doors. These +things were as words whose memory vanished. Yet deep down in his heart there +was a poignant smart which wrung him with such increasing pain that it nigh +choked him. Childish ideas would occur to him; he imagined that she would never +have betrayed him if he had really loved her, and he blamed himself for this. +His anguish was becoming unbearable; he was really very wretched. His was the +pain of an old wound rather than the blind, present desire which puts up with +everything for the sake of immediate possession. He felt a jealous passion for +the woman and was haunted by longings for her and her alone, her hair, her +mouth, her body. When he remembered the sound of her voice a shiver ran through +him; he longed for her as a miser might have done, with refinements of desire +beggaring description. He was, in fact, so dolorously possessed by his passion +that when Labordette had begun to broach the subject of an assignation he had +thrown himself into his arms in obedience to irresistible impulse. Directly +afterward he had, of course, been ashamed of an act of self-abandonment which +could not but seem very ridiculous in a man of his position; but Labordette was +one who knew when to see and when not to see things, and he gave a further +proof of his tact when he left the count at the foot of the stairs and without +effort let slip only these simple words: +</p> + +<p> +“The right-hand passage on the second floor. The door’s not +shut.” +</p> + +<p> +Muffat was alone in that silent corner of the house. As he passed before the +players’ waiting room, he had peeped through the open doors and noticed +the utter dilapidation of the vast chamber, which looked shamefully stained and +worn in broad daylight. But what surprised him most as he emerged from the +darkness and confusion of the stage was the pure, clear light and deep quiet at +present pervading the lofty staircase, which one evening when he had seen it +before had been bathed in gas fumes and loud with the footsteps of women +scampering over the different floors. He felt that the dressing rooms were +empty, the corridors deserted; not a soul was there; not a sound broke the +stillness, while through the square windows on the level of the stairs the pale +November sunlight filtered and cast yellow patches of light, full of dancing +dust, amid the dead, peaceful air which seemed to descend from the regions +above. +</p> + +<p> +He was glad of this calm and the silence, and he went slowly up, trying to +regain breath as he went, for his heart was thumping, and he was afraid lest he +might behave childishly and give way to sighs and tears. Accordingly on the +first-floor landing he leaned up against a wall—for he was sure of not +being observed—and pressed his handkerchief to his mouth and gazed at the +warped steps, the iron balustrade bright with the friction of many hands, the +scraped paint on the walls—all the squalor, in fact, which that house of +tolerance so crudely displayed at the pale afternoon hour when courtesans are +asleep. When he reached the second floor he had to step over a big yellow cat +which was lying curled up on a step. With half-closed eyes this cat was keeping +solitary watch over the house, where the close and now frozen odors which the +women nightly left behind them had rendered him somnolent. +</p> + +<p> +In the right-hand corridor the door of the dressing room had, indeed, not been +closed entirely. Nana was waiting. That little Mathilde, a drab of a young +girl, kept her dressing room in a filthy state. Chipped jugs stood about +anyhow; the dressing table was greasy, and there was a chair covered with red +stains, which looked as if someone had bled over the straw. The paper pasted on +walls and ceiling was splashed from top to bottom with spots of soapy water and +this smelled so disagreeably of lavender scent turned sour that Nana opened the +window and for some moments stayed leaning on the sill, breathing the fresh air +and craning forward to catch sight of Mme Bron underneath. She could hear her +broom wildly at work on the mildewed pantiles of the narrow court which was +buried in shadow. A canary, whose cage hung on a shutter, was trilling away +piercingly. The sound of carriages in the boulevard and neighboring streets was +no longer audible, and the quiet and the wide expanse of sleeping sunlight +suggested the country. Looking farther afield, her eye fell on the small +buildings and glass roofs of the galleries in the passage and, beyond these, on +the tall houses in the Rue Vivienne, the backs of which rose silent and +apparently deserted over against her. There was a succession of terrace roofs +close by, and on one of these a photographer had perched a big cagelike +construction of blue glass. It was all very gay, and Nana was becoming absorbed +in contemplation, when it struck her someone had knocked at the door. +</p> + +<p> +She turned round and shouted: +</p> + +<p> +“Come in!” +</p> + +<p> +At sight of the count she shut the window, for it was not warm, and there was +no need for the eavesdropping Mme Bron to listen. The pair gazed at one another +gravely. Then as the count still kept standing stiffly in front of her, looking +ready to choke with emotion, she burst out laughing and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Well! So you’re here again, you silly big beast!” +</p> + +<p> +The tumult going on within him was so great that he seemed a man frozen to ice. +He addressed Nana as “madame” and esteemed himself happy to see her +again. Thereupon she became more familiar than ever in order to bounce matters +through. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t do it in the dignified way! You wanted to see me, +didn’t you? But you didn’t intend us to stand looking at one +another like a couple of chinaware dogs. We’ve both been in the +wrong—Oh, I certainly forgive you!” +</p> + +<p> +And herewith they agreed not to talk of that affair again, Muffat nodding his +assent as Nana spoke. He was calmer now but as yet could find nothing to say, +though a thousand things rose tumultuously to his lips. Surprised at his +apparent coldness, she began acting a part with much vigor. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” she continued with a faint smile, “you’re a +sensible man! Now that we’ve made our peace let’s shake hands and +be good friends in future.” +</p> + +<p> +“What? Good friends?” he murmured in sudden anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; it’s idiotic, perhaps, but I should like you to think well of +me. We’ve had our little explanation out, and if we meet again we +shan’t, at any rate look like a pair of boobies.” +</p> + +<p> +He tried to interrupt her with a movement of the hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me finish! There’s not a man, you understand, able to accuse +me of doing him a blackguardly turn; well, and it struck me as horrid to begin +in your case. We all have our sense of honor, dear boy.” +</p> + +<p> +“But that’s not my meaning!” he shouted violently. “Sit +down—listen to me!” And as though he were afraid of seeing her take +her departure, he pushed her down on the solitary chair in the room. Then he +paced about in growing agitation. The little dressing room was airless and full +of sunlight, and no sound from the outside world disturbed its pleasant, +peaceful, dampish atmosphere. In the pauses of conversation the shrillings of +the canary were alone audible and suggested the distant piping of a flute. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” he said, planting himself in front of her, +“I’ve come to possess myself of you again. Yes, I want to begin +again. You know that well; then why do you talk to me as you do? Answer me; +tell me you consent.” +</p> + +<p> +Her head was bent, and she was scratching the blood-red straw of the seat +underneath her. Seeing him so anxious, she did not hurry to answer. But at last +she lifted up her face. It had assumed a grave expression, and into the +beautiful eyes she had succeeded in infusing a look of sadness. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s impossible, little man. Never, never, will I live with +you again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” he stuttered, and his face seemed contracted in unspeakable +suffering. +</p> + +<p> +“Why? Hang it all, because—It’s impossible; that’s +about it. I don’t want to.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked ardently at her for some seconds longer. Then his legs curved under +him and he fell on the floor. In a bored voice she added this simple advice: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, don’t be a baby!” +</p> + +<p> +But he was one already. Dropping at her feet, he had put his arms round her +waist and was hugging her closely, pressing his face hard against her knees. +When he felt her thus—when he once more divined the presence of her +velvety limbs beneath the thin fabric of her dress—he was suddenly +convulsed and trembled, as it were, with fever, while madly, savagely, he +pressed his face against her knees as though he had been anxious to force +through her flesh. The old chair creaked, and beneath the low ceiling, where +the air was pungent with stale perfumes, smothered sobs of desire were audible. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and after?” Nana began saying, letting him do as he would. +“All this doesn’t help you a bit, seeing that the thing’s +impossible. Good God, what a child you are!” +</p> + +<p> +His energy subsided, but he still stayed on the floor, nor did he relax his +hold of her as he said in a broken voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Do at least listen to what I came to offer you. I’ve already seen +a town house close to the Parc Monceau—I would gladly realize your +smallest wish. In order to have you all to myself, I would give my whole +fortune. Yes, that would be my only condition, that I should have you all to +myself! Do you understand? And if you were to consent to be mine only, oh, then +I should want you to be the loveliest, the richest, woman on earth. I should +give you carriages and diamonds and dresses!” +</p> + +<p> +At each successive offer Nana shook her head proudly. Then seeing that he still +continued them, that he even spoke of settling money on her—for he was at +loss what to lay at her feet—she apparently lost patience. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, have you done bargaining with me? I’m a good sort, and +I don’t mind giving in to you for a minute or two, as your feelings are +making you so ill, but I’ve had enough of it now, haven’t I? So let +me get up. You’re tiring me.” +</p> + +<p> +She extricated herself from his clasp, and once on her feet: +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, no!” she said. “I don’t want to!” +</p> + +<p> +With that he gathered himself up painfully and feebly dropped into a chair, in +which he leaned back with his face in his hands. Nana began pacing up and down +in her turn. For a second or two she looked at the stained wallpaper, the +greasy toilet table, the whole dirty little room as it basked in the pale +sunlight. Then she paused in front of the count and spoke with quiet +directness. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s strange how rich men fancy they can have everything for their +money. Well, and if I don’t want to consent—what then? I +don’t care a pin for your presents! You might give me Paris, and yet I +should say no! Always no! Look here, it’s scarcely clean in this room, +yet I should think it very nice if I wanted to live in it with you. But +one’s fit to kick the bucket in your palaces if one isn’t in love. +Ah, as to money, my poor pet, I can lay my hands on that if I want to, but I +tell you, I trample on it; I spit on it!” +</p> + +<p> +And with that she assumed a disgusted expression. Then she became sentimental +and added in a melancholy tone: +</p> + +<p> +“I know of something worth more than money. Oh, if only someone were to +give me what I long for!” +</p> + +<p> +He slowly lifted his head, and there was a gleam of hope in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you can’t give it me,” she continued; “it +doesn’t depend on you, and that’s the reason I’m talking to +you about it. Yes, we’re having a chat, so I may as well mention to you +that I should like to play the part of the respectable woman in that show of +theirs.” +</p> + +<p> +“What respectable woman?” he muttered in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, their Duchess Helene! If they think I’m going to play +Geraldine, a part with nothing in it, a scene and nothing besides—if they +think that! Besides, that isn’t the reason. The fact is I’ve had +enough of courtesans. Why, there’s no end to ’em! They’ll be +fancying I’ve got ’em on the brain; to be sure they will! Besides, +when all’s said and done, it’s annoying, for I can quite see they +seem to think me uneducated. Well, my boy, they’re jolly well in the dark +about it, I can tell you! When I want to be a perfect lady, why then I am a +swell, and no mistake! Just look at this.” +</p> + +<p> +And she withdrew as far as the window and then came swelling back with the +mincing gait and circumspect air of a portly hen that fears to dirty her claws. +As to Muffat, he followed her movements with eyes still wet with tears. He was +stupefied by this sudden transition from anguish to comedy. She walked about +for a moment or two in order the more thoroughly to show off her paces, and as +she walked she smiled subtlely, closed her eyes demurely and managed her skirts +with great dexterity. Then she posted herself in front of him again. +</p> + +<p> +“I guess I’ve hit it, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thoroughly,” he stammered with a broken voice and a troubled +expression. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you I’ve got hold of the honest woman! I’ve tried at +my own place. Nobody’s got my little knack of looking like a duchess who +don’t care a damn for the men. Did you notice it when I passed in front +of you? Why, the thing’s in my blood! Besides, I want to play the part of +an honest woman. I dream about it day and night—I’m miserable about +it. I must have the part, d’you hear?” +</p> + +<p> +And with that she grew serious, speaking in a hard voice and looking deeply +moved, for she was really tortured by her stupid, tiresome wish. Muffat, still +smarting from her late refusals, sat on without appearing to grasp her meaning. +There was a silence during which the very flies abstained from buzzing through +the quiet, empty place. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, look here,” she resumed bluntly, “you’re to get +them to give me the part.” +</p> + +<p> +He was dumfounded, and with a despairing gesture: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s impossible! You yourself were saying just now that it +didn’t depend on me.” +</p> + +<p> +She interrupted him with a shrug of the shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll just go down, and you’ll tell Bordenave you want the +part. Now don’t be such a silly! Bordenave wants money—well, +you’ll lend him some, since you can afford to make ducks and drakes of +it.” +</p> + +<p> +And as he still struggled to refuse her, she grew angry. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, I understand; you’re afraid of making Rose angry. I +didn’t mention the woman when you were crying down on the floor—I +should have had too much to say about it all. Yes, to be sure, when one has +sworn to love a woman forever one doesn’t usually take up with the first +creature that comes by directly after. Oh, that’s where the shoe pinches, +I remember! Well, dear boy, there’s nothing very savory in the +Mignon’s leavings! Oughtn’t you to have broken it off with that +dirty lot before coming and squirming on my knees?” +</p> + +<p> +He protested vaguely and at last was able to get out a phrase. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t care a jot for Rose; I’ll give her up at +once.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana seemed satisfied on this point. She continued: +</p> + +<p> +“Well then, what’s bothering you? Bordenave’s master here. +You’ll tell me there’s Fauchery after Bordenave—” +</p> + +<p> +She had sunk her voice, for she was coming to the delicate part of the matter. +Muffat sat silent, his eyes fixed on the ground. He had remained voluntarily +ignorant of Fauchery’s assiduous attentions to the countess, and time had +lulled his suspicions and set him hoping that he had been deceiving himself +during that fearful night passed in a doorway of the Rue Taitbout. But he still +felt a dull, angry repugnance to the man. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what then? Fauchery isn’t the devil!” Nana repeated, +feeling her way cautiously and trying to find out how matters stood between +husband and lover. “One can get over his soft side. I promise you, +he’s a good sort at bottom! So it’s a bargain, eh? You’ll +tell him that it’s for my sake?” +</p> + +<p> +The idea of taking such a step disgusted the count. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no! Never!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +She paused, and this sentence was on the verge of utterance: +</p> + +<p> +“Fauchery can refuse you nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +But she felt that by way of argument it was rather too much of a good thing. So +she only smiled a queer smile which spoke as plainly as words. Muffat had +raised his eyes to her and now once more lowered them, looking pale and full of +embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you’re not good natured,” she muttered at last. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot,” he said with a voice and a look of the utmost anguish. +“I’ll do whatever you like, but not that, dear love! Oh, I beg you +not to insist on that!” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon she wasted no more time in discussion but took his head between her +small hands, pushed it back a little, bent down and glued her mouth to his in a +long, long kiss. He shivered violently; he trembled beneath her touch; his eyes +were closed, and he was beside himself. She lifted him to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Go,” said she simply. +</p> + +<p> +He walked off, making toward the door. But as he passed out she took him in her +arms again, became meek and coaxing, lifted her face to his and rubbed her +cheek against his waistcoat, much as a cat might have done. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s the fine house?” she whispered in laughing +embarrassment, like a little girl who returns to the pleasant things she has +previously refused. +</p> + +<p> +“In the Avenue de Villiers.” +</p> + +<p> +“And there are carriages there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lace? Diamonds?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how good you are, my old pet! You know it was all jealousy just now! +And this time I solemnly promise you it won’t be like the first, for now +you understand what’s due to a woman. You give all, don’t you? Well +then, I don’t want anybody but you! Why, look here, there’s some +more for you! There and there AND there!” +</p> + +<p> +When she had pushed him from the room after firing his blood with a rain of +kisses on hands and on face, she panted awhile. Good heavens, what an +unpleasant smell there was in that slut Mathilde’s dressing room! It was +warm, if you will, with the tranquil warmth peculiar to rooms in the south when +the winter sun shines into them, but really, it smelled far too strong of stale +lavender water, not to mention other less cleanly things! She opened the window +and, again leaning on the window sill, began watching the glass roof of the +passage below in order to kill time. +</p> + +<p> +Muffat went staggering downstairs. His head was swimming. What should he say? +How should he broach the matter which, moreover, did not concern him? He heard +sounds of quarreling as he reached the stage. The second act was being +finished, and Prullière was beside himself with wrath, owing to an attempt on +Fauchery’s part to cut short one of his speeches. +</p> + +<p> +“Cut it all out then,” he was shouting. “I should prefer +that! Just fancy, I haven’t two hundred lines, and they’re still +cutting me down. No, by Jove, I’ve had enough of it; I give the part +up.” +</p> + +<p> +He took a little crumpled manuscript book out of his pocket and fingered its +leaves feverishly, as though he were just about to throw it on Cossard’s +lap. His pale face was convulsed by outraged vanity; his lips were drawn and +thin, his eyes flamed; he was quite unable to conceal the struggle that was +going on inside him. To think that he, Prullière, the idol of the public, +should play a part of only two hundred lines! +</p> + +<p> +“Why not make me bring in letters on a tray?” he continued +bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, Prullière, behave decently,” said Bordenave, who was +anxious to treat him tenderly because of his influence over the boxes. +“Don’t begin making a fuss. We’ll find some points. Eh, +Fauchery, you’ll add some points? In the third act it would even be +possible to lengthen a scene out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well then, I want the last speech of all,” the comedian declared. +“I certainly deserve to have it.” +</p> + +<p> +Fauchery’s silence seemed to give consent, and Prullière, still greatly +agitated and discontented despite everything, put his part back into his +pocket. Bosc and Fontan had appeared profoundly indifferent during the course +of this explanation. Let each man fight for his own hand, they reflected; the +present dispute had nothing to do with them; they had no interest therein! All +the actors clustered round Fauchery and began questioning him and fishing for +praise, while Mignon listened to the last of Prullière’s complaints +without, however, losing sight of Count Muffat, whose return he had been on the +watch for. +</p> + +<p> +Entering in the half-light, the count had paused at the back of the stage, for +he hesitated to interrupt the quarrel. But Bordenave caught sight of him and +ran forward. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t they a pretty lot?” he muttered. “You can have +no idea what I’ve got to undergo with that lot, Monsieur le Comte. Each +man’s vainer than his neighbor, and they’re wretched players all +the same, a scabby lot, always mixed up in some dirty business or other! Oh, +they’d be delighted if I were to come to smash. But I beg +pardon—I’m getting beside myself.” +</p> + +<p> +He ceased speaking, and silence reigned while Muffat sought how to broach his +announcement gently. But he failed and, in order to get out of his difficulty +the more quickly, ended by an abrupt announcement: +</p> + +<p> +“Nana wants the duchess’s part.” +</p> + +<p> +Bordenave gave a start and shouted: +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, it’s sheer madness!” +</p> + +<p> +Then looking at the count and finding him so pale and so shaken, he was calm at +once. +</p> + +<p> +“Devil take it!” he said simply. +</p> + +<p> +And with that there ensued a fresh silence. At bottom he didn’t care a +pin about it. That great thing Nana playing the duchess might possibly prove +amusing! Besides, now that this had happened he had Muffat well in his grasp. +Accordingly he was not long in coming to a decision, and so he turned round and +called out: +</p> + +<p> +“Fauchery!” +</p> + +<p> +The count had been on the point of stopping him. But Fauchery did not hear him, +for he had been pinned against the curtain by Fontan and was being compelled to +listen patiently to the comedian’s reading of the part of Tardiveau. +Fontan imagined Tardiveau to be a native of Marseilles with a dialect, and he +imitated the dialect. He was repeating whole speeches. Was that right? Was this +the thing? Apparently he was only submitting ideas to Fauchery of which he was +himself uncertain, but as the author seemed cold and raised various objections, +he grew angry at once. +</p> + +<p> +Oh, very well, the moment the spirit of the part escaped him it would be better +for all concerned that he shouldn’t act it at all! +</p> + +<p> +“Fauchery!” shouted Bordenave once more. +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon the young man ran off, delighted to escape from the actor, who was +wounded not a little by his prompt retreat. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t let’s stay here,” continued Bordenave. +“Come this way, gentlemen.” +</p> + +<p> +In order to escape from curious listeners he led them into the property room +behind the scenes, while Mignon watched their disappearance in some surprise. +They went down a few steps and entered a square room, whose two windows opened +upon the courtyard. A faint light stole through the dirty panes and hung wanly +under the low ceiling. In pigeonholes and shelves, which filled the whole place +up, lay a collection of the most varied kind of bric-a-brac. Indeed, it +suggested an old-clothes shop in the Rue de Lappe in process of selling off, so +indescribable was the hotchpotch of plates, gilt pasteboard cups, old red +umbrellas, Italian jars, clocks in all styles, platters and inkpots, firearms +and squirts, which lay chipped and broken and in unrecognizable heaps under a +layer of dust an inch deep. An unendurable odor of old iron, rags and damp +cardboard emanated from the various piles, where the débris of forgotten dramas +had been collecting for half a century. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in,” Bordenave repeated. “We shall be alone, at any +rate.” +</p> + +<p> +The count was extremely embarrassed, and he contrived to let the manager risk +his proposal for him. Fauchery was astonished. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh? What?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Just this,” said Bordenave finally. “An idea has occurred to +us. Now whatever you do, don’t jump! It’s most serious. What do you +think of Nana for the duchess’s part?” +</p> + +<p> +The author was bewildered; then he burst out with: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah no, no! You’re joking, aren’t you? People would laugh far +too much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and it’s a point gained already if they do laugh! Just +reflect, my dear boy. The idea pleases Monsieur le Comte very much.” +</p> + +<p> +In order to keep himself in countenance Muffat had just picked out of the dust +on a neighboring shelf an object which he did not seem to recognize. It was an +eggcup, and its stem had been mended with plaster. He kept hold of it +unconsciously and came forward, muttering: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, it would be capital.” +</p> + +<p> +Fauchery turned toward him with a brisk, impatient gesture. The count had +nothing to do with his piece, and he said decisively: +</p> + +<p> +“Never! Let Nana play the courtesan as much as she likes, but a +lady—No, by Jove!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are mistaken, I assure you,” rejoined the count, growing +bolder. “This very minute she has been playing the part of a pure woman +for my benefit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” queried Fauchery with growing surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Upstairs in a dressing room. Yes, she has, indeed, and with such +distinction! She’s got a way of glancing at you as she goes by +you—something like this, you know!” +</p> + +<p> +And eggcup in hand, he endeavored to imitate Nana, quite forgetting his dignity +in his frantic desire to convince the others. Fauchery gazed at him in a state +of stupefaction. He understood it all now, and his anger had ceased. The count +felt that he was looking at him mockingly and pityingly, and he paused with a +slight blush on his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Egad, it’s quite possible!” muttered the author +complaisantly. “Perhaps she would do very well, only the part’s +been assigned. We can’t take it away from Rose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if that’s all the trouble,” said Bordenave, +“I’ll undertake to arrange matters.” +</p> + +<p> +But presently, seeing them both against him and guessing that Bordenave had +some secret interest at stake, the young man thought to avoid aquiescence by +redoubling the violence of his refusal. The consultation was on the verge of +being broken up. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear! No, no! Even if the part were unassigned I should never give +it her! There, is that plain? Do let me alone; I have no wish to ruin my +play!” +</p> + +<p> +He lapsed into silent embarrassment. Bordenave, deeming himself DE TROP, went +away, but the count remained with bowed head. He raised it with an effort and +said in a breaking voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Supposing, my dear fellow, I were to ask this of you as a favor?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot, I cannot,” Fauchery kept repeating as he writhed to get +free. +</p> + +<p> +Muffat’s voice became harder. +</p> + +<p> +“I pray and beseech you for it! I want it!” +</p> + +<p> +And with that he fixed his eyes on him. The young man read menaces in that +darkling gaze and suddenly gave way with a splutter of confused phrases: +</p> + +<p> +“Do what you like—I don’t care a pin about it. Yes, yes, +you’re abusing your power, but you’ll see, you’ll see!” +</p> + +<p> +At this the embarrassment of both increased. Fauchery was leaning up against a +set of shelves and was tapping nervously on the ground with his foot. Muffat +seemed busy examining the eggcup, which he was still turning round and about. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s an eggcup,” Bordenave obligingly came and remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, to be sure! It’s an eggcup,” the count repeated. +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me, you’re covered with dust,” continued the manager, +putting the thing back on a shelf. “If one had to dust every day +there’d be no end to it, you understand. But it’s hardly clean +here—a filthy mess, eh? Yet you may believe me or not when I tell you +there’s money in it. Now look, just look at all that!” +</p> + +<p> +He walked Muffat round in front of the pigeonholes and shelves and in the +greenish light which filtered through the courtyard, told him the names of +different properties, for he was anxious to interest him in his marine-stores +inventory, as he jocosely termed it. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, when they had returned into Fauchery’s neighborhood, he said +carelessly enough: +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, since we’re all of one mind, we’ll finish the matter +at once. Here’s Mignon, just when he’s wanted.” +</p> + +<p> +For some little time past Mignon had been prowling in the adjoining passage, +and the very moment Bordenave began talking of a modification of their +agreement he burst into wrathful protest. It was infamous—they wanted to +spoil his wife’s career—he’d go to law about it! Bordenave, +meanwhile, was extremely calm and full of reasons. He did not think the part +worthy of Rose, and he preferred to reserve her for an operetta, which was to +be put on after the Petite Duchesse. But when her husband still continued +shouting he suddenly offered to cancel their arrangement in view of the offers +which the Folies-Dramatiques had been making the singer. At this Mignon was +momentarily put out, so without denying the truth of these offers he loudly +professed a vast disdain for money. His wife, he said, had been engaged to play +the Duchess Helene, and she would play the part even if he, Mignon, were to be +ruined over it. His dignity, his honor, were at stake! Starting from this +basis, the discussion grew interminable. The manager, however, always returned +to the following argument: since the Folies had offered Rose three hundred +francs a night during a hundred performances, and since she only made a hundred +and fifty with him, she would be the gainer by fifteen thousand francs the +moment he let her depart. The husband, on his part, did not desert the +artist’s position. What would people say if they saw his wife deprived of +her part? Why, that she was not equal to it; that it had been deemed necessary +to find a substitute for her! And this would do great harm to Rose’s +reputation as an artist; nay, it would diminish it. Oh no, no! Glory before +gain! Then without a word of warning he pointed out a possible arrangement: +Rose, according to the terms of her agreement, was pledged to pay a forfeit of +ten thousand francs in case she gave up the part. Very well then, let them give +her ten thousand francs, and she would go to the Folies-Dramatiques. Bordenave +was utterly dumfounded while Mignon, who had never once taken his eyes off the +count, tranquilly awaited results. +</p> + +<p> +“Then everything can be settled,” murmured Muffat in tones of +relief; “we can come to an understanding.” +</p> + +<p> +“The deuce, no! That would be too stupid!” cried Bordenave, +mastered by his commercial instincts. “Ten thousand francs to let Rose +go! Why, people would make game of me!” +</p> + +<p> +But the count, with a multiplicity of nods, bade him accept. He hesitated, and +at last with much grumbling and infinite regret over the ten thousand francs +which, by the by, were not destined to come out of his own pocket he bluntly +continued: +</p> + +<p> +“After all, I consent. At any rate, I shall have you off my hands.” +</p> + +<p> +For a quarter of an hour past Fontan had been listening in the courtyard. Such +had been his curiosity that he had come down and posted himself there, but the +moment he understood the state of the case he went upstairs again and enjoyed +the treat of telling Rose. Dear me! They were just haggling in her behalf! He +dinned his words into her ears; she ran off to the property room. They were +silent as she entered. She looked at the four men. Muffat hung his head; +Fauchery answered her questioning glance with a despairing shrug of the +shoulders; as to Mignon, he was busy discussing the terms of the agreement with +Bordenave. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s up?” she demanded curtly. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” said her husband. “Bordenave here is giving ten +thousand francs in order to get you to give up your part.” +</p> + +<p> +She grew tremulous with anger and very pale, and she clenched her little fists. +For some moments she stared at him, her whole nature in revolt. Ordinarily in +matters of business she was wont to trust everything obediently to her husband, +leaving him to sign agreements with managers and lovers. Now she could but cry: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come, you’re too base for anything!” +</p> + +<p> +The words fell like a lash. Then she sped away, and Mignon, in utter +astonishment, ran after her. What next? Was she going mad? He began explaining +to her in low tones that ten thousand francs from one party and fifteen +thousand from the other came to twenty-five thousand. A splendid deal! Muffat +was getting rid of her in every sense of the word; it was a pretty trick to +have plucked him of this last feather! But Rose in her anger vouchsafed no +answer. Whereupon Mignon in disdain left her to her feminine spite and, turning +to Bordenave, who was once more on the stage with Fauchery and Muffat, said: +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll sign tomorrow morning. Have the money in readiness.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Nana, to whom Labordette had brought the news, came down to the +stage in triumph. She was quite the honest woman now and wore a most +distinguished expression in order to overwhelm her friends and prove to the +idiots that when she chose she could give them all points in the matter of +smartness. But she nearly got into trouble, for at the sight of her Rose darted +forward, choking with rage and stuttering: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you, I’ll pay you out! Things can’t go on like this; +d’you understand?” Nana forgot herself in face of this brisk attack +and was going to put her arms akimbo and give her what for. But she controlled +herself and, looking like a marquise who is afraid of treading on an orange +peel, fluted in still more silvery tones. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, what?” said she. “You’re mad, my dear!” +</p> + +<p> +And with that she continued in her graceful affectation while Rose took her +departure, followed by Mignon, who now refused to recognize her. Clarisse was +enraptured, having just obtained the part of Geraldine from Bordenave. +Fauchery, on the other hand, was gloomy; he shifted from one foot to the other; +he could not decide whether to leave the theater or no. His piece was +bedeviled, and he was seeking how best to save it. But Nana came up, took him +by both hands and, drawing him toward her, asked whether he thought her so very +atrocious after all. She wasn’t going to eat his play—not she! Then +she made him laugh and gave him to understand that he would be foolish to be +angry with her, in view of his relationship to the Muffats. If, she said, her +memory failed her she would take her lines from the prompter. The house, too, +would be packed in such a way as to ensure applause. Besides, he was mistaken +about her, and he would soon see how she would rattle through her part. By and +by it was arranged that the author should make a few changes in the role of the +duchess so as to extend that of Prullière. The last-named personage was +enraptured. Indeed, amid all the joy which Nana now quite naturally diffused, +Fontan alone remained unmoved. In the middle of the yellow lamplight, against +which the sharp outline of his goatlike profile shone out with great +distinctness, he stood showing off his figure and affecting the pose of one who +has been cruelly abandoned. Nana went quietly up and shook hands with him. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you getting on?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, pretty fairly. And how are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +That was all. They seemed to have only parted at the doors of the theater the +day before. Meanwhile the players were waiting about, but Bordenave said that +the third act would not be rehearsed. And so it chanced that old Bosc went +grumbling away at the proper time, whereas usually the company were needlessly +detained and lost whole afternoons in consequence. Everyone went off. Down on +the pavement they were blinded by the broad daylight and stood blinking their +eyes in a dazed sort of way, as became people who had passed three hours +squabbling with tight-strung nerves in the depths of a cellar. The count, with +racked limbs and vacant brain, got into a conveyance with Nana, while +Labordette took Fauchery off and comforted him. +</p> + +<p> +A month later the first night of the Petite Duchesse proved supremely +disastrous to Nana. She was atrociously bad and displayed such pretentions +toward high comedy that the public grew mirthful. They did not hiss—they +were too amused. From a stage box Rose Mignon kept greeting her rival’s +successive entrances with a shrill laugh, which set the whole house off. It was +the beginning of her revenge. Accordingly, when at night Nana, greatly +chagrined, found herself alone with Muffat, she said furiously: +</p> + +<p> +“What a conspiracy, eh? It’s all owing to jealousy. Oh, if they +only knew how I despise ’em! What do I want them for nowadays? Look here! +I’ll bet a hundred louis that I’ll bring all those who made fun +today and make ’em lick the ground at my feet! Yes, I’ll fine-lady +your Paris for you, I will!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"></a> CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p> +Thereupon Nana became a smart woman, mistress of all that is foolish and filthy +in man, marquise in the ranks of her calling. It was a sudden but decisive +start, a plunge into the garish day of gallant notoriety and mad expenditure +and that daredevil wastefulness peculiar to beauty. She at once became queen +among the most expensive of her kind. Her photographs were displayed in +shopwindows, and she was mentioned in the papers. When she drove in her +carriage along the boulevards the people would turn and tell one another who +that was with all the unction of a nation saluting its sovereign, while the +object of their adoration lolled easily back in her diaphanous dresses and +smiled gaily under the rain of little golden curls which ran riot above the +blue of her made-up eyes and the red of her painted lips. And the wonder of +wonders was that the great creature, who was so awkward on the stage, so very +absurd the moment she sought to act the chaste woman, was able without effort +to assume the role of an enchantress in the outer world. Her movements were +lithe as a serpent’s, and the studied and yet seemingly involuntary +carelessness with which she dressed was really exquisite in its elegance. There +was a nervous distinction in all she did which suggested a wellborn Persian +cat; she was an aristocrat in vice and proudly and rebelliously trampled upon a +prostrate Paris like a sovereign whom none dare disobey. She set the fashion, +and great ladies imitated her. +</p> + +<p> +Nana’s fine house was situated at the corner of the Rue Cardinet, in the +Avenue de Villiers. The avenue was part of the luxurious quarter at that time +springing up in the vague district which had once been the Plaine Monceau. The +house had been built by a young painter, who was intoxicated by a first +success, and had been perforce resold almost as soon as it was habitable. It +was in the palatial Renaissance manner and had fantastic interior arrangements +which consisted of modern conveniences framed in a setting of somewhat +artificial originality. Count Muffat had bought the house ready furnished and +full of hosts of beautiful objects—lovely Eastern hangings, old +credences, huge chairs of the Louis XIII epoch. And thus Nana had come into +artistic surroundings of the choicest kind and of the most extravagantly +various dates. But since the studio, which occupied the central portion of the +house, could not be of any use to her, she had upset existing arrangements, +establishing a small drawing room on the first floor, next to her bedroom and +dressing room, and leaving a conservatory, a large drawing room and a dining +room to look after themselves underneath. She astonished the architect with her +ideas, for, as became a Parisian workgirl who understands the elegancies of +life by instinct, she had suddenly developed a very pretty taste for every +species of luxurious refinement. Indeed, she did not spoil her house overmuch; +nay, she even added to the richness of the furniture, save here and there, +where certain traces of tender foolishness and vulgar magnificence betrayed the +ex-flower seller who had been wont to dream in front of shopwindows in the +arcades. +</p> + +<p> +A carpet was spread on the steps beneath the great awning over the front door +in the court, and the moment you entered the hall you were greeted by a perfume +as of violets and a soft, warm atmosphere which thick hangings helped to +produce. A window, whose yellow-and rose-colored panes suggested the warm +pallor of human flesh, gave light to the wide staircase, at the foot of which a +Negro in carved wood held out a silver tray full of visiting cards and four +white marble women, with bosoms displayed, raised lamps in their uplifted +hands. Bronzes and Chinese vases full of flowers, divans covered with old +Persian rugs, armchairs upholstered in old tapestry, furnished the entrance +hall, adorned the stairheads and gave the first-floor landing the appearance of +an anteroom. Here men’s overcoats and hats were always in evidence, and +there were thick hangings which deadened every sound. It seemed a place apart: +on entering it you might have fancied yourself in a chapel, whose very air was +thrilling with devotion, whose very silence and seclusion were fraught with +mystery. +</p> + +<p> +Nana only opened the large and somewhat too-sumptuous Louis XVI drawing room on +those gala nights when she received society from the Tuileries or strangers of +distinction. Ordinarily she only came downstairs at mealtimes, and she would +feel rather lost on such days as she lunched by herself in the lofty dining +room with its Gobelin tapestry and its monumental sideboard, adorned with old +porcelain and marvelous pieces of ancient plate. She used to go upstairs again +as quickly as possible, for her home was on the first floor, in the three +rooms, the bed, dressing and small drawing room above described. Twice already +she had done the bedchamber up anew: on the first occasion in mauve satin, on +the second in blue silk under lace. But she had not been satisfied with this; +it had struck her as “nohowish,” and she was still unsuccessfully +seeking for new colors and designs. On the elaborately upholstered bed, which +was as low as a sofa, there were twenty thousand francs’ worth of POINT +DE VENISE lace. The furniture was lacquered blue and white under designs in +silver filigree, and everywhere lay such numbers of white bearskins that they +hid the carpet. This was a luxurious caprice on Nana’s part, she having +never been able to break herself of the habit of sitting on the floor to take +her stockings off. Next door to the bedroom the little saloon was full of an +amusing medley of exquisitely artistic objects. Against the hangings of pale +rose-colored silk—a faded Turkish rose color, embroidered with gold +thread—a whole world of them stood sharply outlined. They were from every +land and in every possible style. There were Italian cabinets, Spanish and +Portuguese coffers, models of Chinese pagodas, a Japanese screen of precious +workmanship, besides china, bronzes, embroidered silks, hangings of the finest +needlework. Armchairs wide as beds and sofas deep as alcoves suggested +voluptuous idleness and the somnolent life of the seraglio. The prevailing tone +of the room was old gold blended with green and red, and nothing it contained +too forcibly indicated the presence of the courtesan save the luxuriousness of +the seats. Only two “biscuit” statuettes, a woman in her shift, +hunting for fleas, and another with nothing at all on, walking on her hands and +waving her feet in the air, sufficed to sully the room with a note of stupid +originality. +</p> + +<p> +Through a door, which was nearly always ajar, the dressing room was visible. It +was all in marble and glass with a white bath, silver jugs and basins and +crystal and ivory appointments. A drawn curtain filled the place with a clear +twilight which seemed to slumber in the warm scent of violets, that suggestive +perfume peculiar to Nana wherewith the whole house, from the roof to the very +courtyard, was penetrated. +</p> + +<p> +The furnishing of the house was a most important undertaking. Nana certainly +had Zoé with her, that girl so devoted to her fortunes. For months she had been +tranquilly awaiting this abrupt, new departure, as became a woman who was +certain of her powers of prescience, and now she was triumphant; she was +mistress of the house and was putting by a round sum while serving Madame as +honestly as possible. But a solitary lady’s maid was no longer +sufficient. A butler, a coachman, a porter and a cook were wanted. Besides, it +was necessary to fill the stables. It was then that Labordette made himself +most useful. He undertook to perform all sorts of errands which bored the +count; he made a comfortable job of the purchase of horses; he visited the +coachbuilders; he guided the young woman in her choice of things. She was to be +met with at the shops, leaning on his arm. Labordette even got in the +servants—Charles, a great, tall coachman, who had been in service with +the Duc de Corbreuse; Julien, a little, smiling, much-becurled butler, and a +married couple, of whom the wife Victorine became cook while the husband +Francois was taken on as porter and footman. The last mentioned in powder and +breeches wore Nana’s livery, which was a sky-blue one adorned with silver +lace, and he received visitors in the hall. The whole thing was princely in the +correctness of its style. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of two months the house was set going. The cost had been more than +three hundred thousand francs. There were eight horses in the stables, and five +carriages in the coach houses, and of these five one was a landau with silver +embellishments, which for the moment occupied the attention of all Paris. And +amid this great wealth Nana began settling down and making her nest. After the +third representation of the Petite Duchesse she had quitted the theater, +leaving Bordenave to struggle on against a bankruptcy which, despite the +count’s money, was imminent. Nevertheless, she was still bitter about her +failure. It added to that other bitterness, the lesson Fontan had given her, a +shameful lesson for which she held all men responsible. Accordingly she now +declared herself very firm and quite proof against sudden infatuations, but +thoughts of vengeance took no hold of her volatile brain. What did maintain a +hold on it in the hours when she was not indignant was an ever-wakeful lust of +expenditure, added to a natural contempt for the man who paid and to a +perpetual passion for consumption and waste, which took pride in the ruin of +her lovers. +</p> + +<p> +At starting Nana put the count on a proper footing and clearly mapped out the +conditions of their relationship. The count gave twelve thousand francs +monthly, presents excepted, and demanded nothing in return save absolute +fidelity. She swore fidelity but insisted also on being treated with the utmost +consideration, on enjoying complete liberty as mistress of the house and on +having her every wish respected. For instance, she was to receive her friends +every day, and he was to come only at stated times. In a word, he was to repose +a blind confidence in her in everything. And when he was seized with jealous +anxiety and hesitated to grant what she wanted, she stood on her dignity and +threatened to give him back all he had given or even swore by little Louiset to +perform what she promised. This was to suffice him. There was no love where +mutual esteem was wanting. At the end of the first month Muffat respected her. +</p> + +<p> +But she desired and obtained still more. Soon she began to influence him, as +became a good-natured courtesan. When he came to her in a moody condition she +cheered him up, confessed him and then gave him good advice. Little by little +she interested herself in the annoyances of his home life, in his wife, in his +daughter, in his love affairs and financial difficulties; she was very +sensible, very fair and right-minded. On one occasion only did she let anger +get the better of her, and that was when he confided to her that doubtless +Daguenet was going to ask for his daughter Estelle in marriage. When the count +began making himself notorious Daguenet had thought it a wise move to break off +with Nana. He had treated her like a base hussy and had sworn to snatch his +future father-in-law out of the creature’s clutches. In return Nana +abused her old Mimi in a charming fashion. He was a renegade who had devoured +his fortune in the company of vile women; he had no moral sense. True, he did +not let them pay him money, but he profited by that of others and only repaid +them at rare intervals with a bouquet or a dinner. And when the count seemed +inclined to find excuses for these failings she bluntly informed him that +Daguenet had enjoyed her favors, and she added disgusting particulars. Muffat +had grown ashen-pale. There was no question of the young man now. This would +teach him to be lacking in gratitude! +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the house had not been entirely furnished, when one evening after she +had lavished the most energetic promises of fidelity on Muffat Nana kept the +Count Xavier de Vandeuvres for the night. For the last fortnight he had been +paying her assiduous court, visiting her and sending presents of flowers, and +now she gave way not so much out of sudden infatuation as to prove that she was +a free woman. The idea of gain followed later when, the day after, Vandeuvres +helped her to pay a bill which she did not wish to mention to the other man. +From Vandeuvres she would certainly derive from eight to ten thousand francs a +month, and this would prove very useful as pocket money. In those days he was +finishing the last of his fortune in an access of burning, feverish folly. His +horses and Lucy had devoured three of his farms, and at one gulp Nana was going +to swallow his last château, near Amiens. He seemed in a hurry to sweep +everything away, down to the ruins of the old tower built by a Vandeuvres under +Philip Augustus. He was mad for ruin and thought it a great thing to leave the +last golden bezants of his coat of arms in the grasp of this courtesan, whom +the world of Paris desired. He, too, accepted Nana’s conditions, leaving +her entire freedom of action and claiming her caresses only on certain days. He +was not even naively impassioned enough to require her to make vows. Muffat +suspected nothing. As to Vandeuvres, he knew things would take place for a +certainty, but he never made the least allusion to them and pretended total +ignorance, while his lips wore the subtle smile of the skeptical man of +pleasure who does not seek the impossible, provided he can have his day and +that Paris is aware of it. +</p> + +<p> +From that time forth Nana’s house was really properly appointed. The +staff of servants was complete in the stable, in the kitchen and in my +lady’s chamber. Zoé organized everything and passed successfully through +the most unforeseen difficulties. The household moved as easily as the scenery +in a theater and was regulated like a grand administrative concern. Indeed, it +worked with such precision that during the early months there were no jars and +no derangements. Madame, however, pained Zoé extremely with her imprudent acts, +her sudden fits of unwisdom, her mad bravado. Still the lady’s maid grew +gradually lenient, for she had noticed that she made increased profits in +seasons of wanton waste when Madame had committed a folly which must be made up +for. It was then that the presents began raining on her, and she fished up many +a louis out of the troubled waters. +</p> + +<p> +One morning when Muffat had not yet left the bedroom Zoé ushered a gentleman +into the dressing room, where Nana was changing her underwear. He was trembling +violently. +</p> + +<p> +“Good gracious! It’s Zizi!” said the young woman in great +astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +It was, indeed, Georges. But when he saw her in her shift, with her golden hair +over her bare shoulders, he threw his arms round her neck and round her waist +and kissed her in all directions. She began struggling to get free, for she was +frightened, and in smothered tones she stammered: +</p> + +<p> +“Do leave off! He’s there! Oh, it’s silly of you! And you, +Zoé, are you out of your senses? Take him away and keep him downstairs; +I’ll try and come down.” +</p> + +<p> +Zoé had to push him in front of her. When Nana was able to rejoin them in the +drawing room downstairs she scolded them both, and Zoé pursed up her lips and +took her departure with a vexed expression, remarking that she had only been +anxious to give Madame a pleasure. Georges was so glad to see Nana again and +gazed at her with such delight that his fine eyes began filling with tears. The +miserable days were over now; his mother believed him to have grown reasonable +and had allowed him to leave Les Fondettes. Accordingly, the moment he had +reached the terminus, he had got a conveyance in order the more quickly to come +and kiss his sweet darling. He spoke of living at her side in future, as he +used to do down in the country when he waited for her, barefooted, in the +bedroom at La Mignotte. And as he told her about himself, he let his fingers +creep forward, for he longed to touch her after that cruel year of separation. +Then he got possession of her hands, felt about the wide sleeves of her +dressing jacket, traveled up as far as her shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“You still love your baby?” he asked in his child voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I certainly love him!” answered Nana, briskly getting out of +his clutches. “But you come popping in without warning. You know, my +little man, I’m not my own mistress; you must be good!” +</p> + +<p> +Georges, when he got out of his cab, had been so dizzy with the feeling that +his long desire was at last about to be satisfied that he had not even noticed +what sort of house he was entering. But now he became conscious of a change in +the things around him. He examined the sumptuous dining room with its lofty +decorated ceiling, its Gobelin hangings, its buffet blazing with plate. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes!” he remarked sadly. +</p> + +<p> +And with that she made him understand that he was never to come in the mornings +but between four and six in the afternoon, if he cared to. That was her +reception time. Then as he looked at her with suppliant, questioning eyes and +craved no boon at all, she, in her turn, kissed him on the forehead in the most +amiable way. +</p> + +<p> +“Be very good,” she whispered. “I’ll do all I +can.” +</p> + +<p> +But the truth was that this remark now meant nothing. She thought Georges very +nice and would have liked him as a companion, but as nothing else. +Nevertheless, when he arrived daily at four o’clock he seemed so wretched +that she was often fain to be as compliant as of old and would hide him in +cupboards and constantly allow him to pick up the crumbs from Beauty’s +table. He hardly ever left the house now and became as much one of its inmates +as the little dog Bijou. Together they nestled among Mistress’s skirts +and enjoyed a little of her at a time, even when she was with another man, +while doles of sugar and stray caresses not seldom fell to their share in her +hours of loneliness and boredom. +</p> + +<p> +Doubtless Mme Hugon found out that the lad had again returned to that wicked +woman’s arms, for she hurried up to Paris and came and sought aid from +her other son, the Lieutenant Philippe, who was then in garrison at Vincennes. +Georges, who was hiding from his elder brother, was seized with despairing +apprehension, for he feared the latter might adopt violent tactics, and as his +tenderness for Nana was so nervously expansive that he could not keep anything +from her, he soon began talking of nothing but his big brother, a great, strong +fellow, who was capable of all kinds of things. +</p> + +<p> +“You know,” he explained, “Mamma won’t come to you +while she can send my brother. Oh, she’ll certainly send Philippe to +fetch me.” +</p> + +<p> +The first time he said this Nana was deeply wounded. She said frigidly: +</p> + +<p> +“Gracious me, I should like to see him come! For all that he’s a +lieutenant in the army, Francois will chuck him out in double-quick +time!” +</p> + +<p> +Soon, as the lad kept returning to the subject of his brother, she ended by +taking a certain interest in Philippe, and in a week’s time she knew him +from head to foot—knew him as very tall and very strong and merry and +somewhat rough. She learned intimate details, too, and found out that he had +hair on his arms and a birthmark on his shoulder. So thoroughly did she learn +her lesson that one day, when she was full of the image of the man who was to +be turned out of doors by her orders, she cried out: +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Zizi, your brother’s not coming. He’s a base +deserter!” +</p> + +<p> +The next day, when Georges and Nana were alone together, Francois came upstairs +to ask whether Madame would receive Lieutenant Philippe Hugon. Georges grew +extremely white and murmured: +</p> + +<p> +“I suspected it; Mamma was talking about it this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +And he besought the young woman to send down word that she could not see +visitors. But she was already on her feet and seemed all aflame as she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I not see him? He would think me afraid. Dear me, we’ll +have a good laugh! Just leave the gentleman in the drawing room for a quarter +of an hour, Francois; afterward bring him up to me.” +</p> + +<p> +She did not sit down again but began pacing feverishly to and fro between the +fireplace and a Venetian mirror hanging above an Italian chest. And each time +she reached the latter she glanced at the glass and tried the effect of a +smile, while Georges sat nervously on a sofa, trembling at the thought of the +coming scene. As she walked up and down she kept jerking out such little +phrases as: +</p> + +<p> +“It will calm the fellow down if he has to wait a quarter of an hour. +Besides, if he thinks he’s calling on a tottie the drawing room will stun +him! Yes, yes, have a good look at everything, my fine fellow! It isn’t +imitation, and it’ll teach you to respect the lady who owns it. +Respect’s what men need to feel! The quarter of an hour’s gone by, +eh? No? Only ten minutes? Oh, we’ve got plenty of time.” +</p> + +<p> +She did not stay where she was, however. At the end of the quarter of an hour +she sent Georges away after making him solemnly promise not to listen at the +door, as such conduct would scarcely look proper in case the servants saw him. +As he went into her bedroom Zizi ventured in a choking sort of way to remark: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s my brother, you know—” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you fear,” she said with much dignity; “if +he’s polite I’ll be polite.” +</p> + +<p> +Francois ushered in Philippe Hugon, who wore morning dress. Georges began +crossing on tiptoe on the other side of the room, for he was anxious to obey +the young woman. But the sound of voices retained him, and he hesitated in such +anguish of mind that his knees gave way under him. He began imagining that a +dread catastrophe would befall, that blows would be struck, that something +abominable would happen, which would make Nana everlastingly odious to him. And +so he could not withstand the temptation to come back and put his ear against +the door. He heard very ill, for the thick portières deadened every sound, but +he managed to catch certain words spoken by Philippe, stern phrases in which +such terms as “mere child,” “family,” +“honor,” were distinctly audible. He was so anxious about his +darling’s possible answers that his heart beat violently and filled his +head with a confused, buzzing noise. She was sure to give vent to a +“Dirty blackguard!” or to a “Leave me bloody well alone! +I’m in my own house!” But nothing happened—not a breath came +from her direction. Nana seemed dead in there! Soon even his brother’s +voice grew gentler, and he could not make it out at all, when a strange +murmuring sound finally stupefied him. Nana was sobbing! For a moment or two he +was the prey of contending feelings and knew not whether to run away or to fall +upon Philippe. But just then Zoé came into the room, and he withdrew from the +door, ashamed at being thus surprised. +</p> + +<p> +She began quietly to put some linen away in a cupboard while he stood mute and +motionless, pressing his forehead against a windowpane. He was tortured by +uncertainty. After a short silence the woman asked: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s your brother that’s with Madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” replied the lad in a choking voice. +</p> + +<p> +There was a fresh silence. +</p> + +<p> +“And it makes you anxious, doesn’t it, Monsieur Georges?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he rejoined in the same painful, suffering tone. +</p> + +<p> +Zoé was in no hurry. She folded up some lace and said slowly: +</p> + +<p> +“You’re wrong; Madame will manage it all.” +</p> + +<p> +And then the conversation ended; they said not another word. Still she did not +leave the room. A long quarter of an hour passed, and she turned round again +without seeming to notice the look of exasperation overspreading the +lad’s face, which was already white with the effects of uncertainty and +constraint. He was casting sidelong glances in the direction of the drawing +room. +</p> + +<p> +Maybe Nana was still crying. The other must have grown savage and have dealt +her blows. Thus when Zoé finally took her departure he ran to the door and once +more pressed his ear against it. He was thunderstruck; his head swam, for he +heard a brisk outburst of gaiety, tender, whispering voices and the smothered +giggles of a woman who is being tickled. Besides, almost directly afterward, +Nana conducted Philippe to the head of the stairs, and there was an exchange of +cordial and familiar phrases. +</p> + +<p> +When Georges again ventured into the drawing room the young woman was standing +before the mirror, looking at herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” he asked in utter bewilderment. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what?” she said without turning round. Then negligently: +</p> + +<p> +“What did you mean? He’s very nice, is your brother!” +</p> + +<p> +“So it’s all right, is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, certainly it’s all right! Goodness me, what’s come over +you? One would have thought we were going to fight!” +</p> + +<p> +Georges still failed to understand. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought I heard—that is, you didn’t cry?” he +stammered out. +</p> + +<p> +“Me cry!” she exclaimed, looking fixedly at him. “Why, +you’re dreaming! What makes you think I cried?” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon the lad was treated to a distressing scene for having disobeyed and +played Paul Pry behind the door. She sulked, and he returned with coaxing +submissiveness to the old subject, for he wished to know all about it. +</p> + +<p> +“And my brother then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your brother saw where he was at once. You know, I might have been a +tottie, in which case his interference would have been accounted for by your +age and the family honor! Oh yes, I understand those kinds of feelings! But a +single glance was enough for him, and he behaved like a well-bred man at once. +So don’t be anxious any longer. It’s all over—he’s gone +to quiet your mamma!” +</p> + +<p> +And she went on laughingly: +</p> + +<p> +“For that matter, you’ll see your brother here. I’ve invited +him, and he’s going to return.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he’s going to return,” said the lad, growing white. He +added nothing, and they ceased talking of Philippe. She began dressing to go +out, and he watched her with his great, sad eyes. Doubtless he was very glad +that matters had got settled, for he would have preferred death to a rupture of +their connection, but deep down in his heart there was a silent anguish, a +profound sense of pain, which he had no experience of and dared not talk about. +How Philippe quieted their mother’s fears he never knew, but three days +later she returned to Les Fondettes, apparently satisfied. On the evening of +her return, at Nana’s house, he trembled when Francois announced the +lieutenant, but the latter jested gaily and treated him like a young rascal, +whose escapade he had favored as something not likely to have any consequences. +The lad’s heart was sore within him; he scarcely dared move and blushed +girlishly at the least word that was spoken to him. He had not lived much in +Philippe’s society; he was ten years his junior, and he feared him as he +would a father, from whom stories about women are concealed. Accordingly he +experienced an uneasy sense of shame when he saw him so free in Nana’s +company and heard him laugh uproariously, as became a man who was plunging into +a life of pleasure with the gusto born of magnificent health. Nevertheless, +when his brother shortly began to present himself every day, Georges ended by +getting somewhat used to it all. Nana was radiant. +</p> + +<p> +This, her latest installation, had been involving all the riotous waste +attendant on the life of gallantry, and now her housewarming was being +defiantly celebrated in a grand mansion positively overflowing with males and +with furniture. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon when the Hugons were there Count Muffat arrived out of hours. But +when Zoé told him that Madame was with friends he refused to come in and took +his departure discreetly, as became a gallant gentleman. When he made his +appearance again in the evening Nana received him with the frigid indignation +of a grossly affronted woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” she said, “I have given you no cause why you should +insult me. You must understand this: when I am at home to visitors, I beg you +to make your appearance just like other people.” +</p> + +<p> +The count simply gaped in astonishment. “But, my dear—” he +endeavored to explain. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it was because I had visitors! Yes, there were men here, but +what d’you suppose I was doing with those men? You only advertise a +woman’s affairs when you act the discreet lover, and I don’t want +to be advertised; I don’t!” +</p> + +<p> +He obtained his pardon with difficulty, but at bottom he was enchanted. It was +with scenes such as these that she kept him in unquestioning and docile +submission. She had long since succeeded in imposing Georges on him as a young +vagabond who, she declared, amused her. She made him dine with Philippe, and +the count behaved with great amiability. When they rose from table he took the +young man on one side and asked news of his mother. From that time forth the +young Hugons, Vandeuvres and Muffat were openly about the house and shook hands +as guests and intimates might have done. It was a more convenient arrangement +than the previous one. Muffat alone still abstained discreetly from +too-frequent visits, thus adhering to the ceremonious policy of an ordinary +strange caller. At night when Nana was sitting on her bearskins drawing off her +stockings, he would talk amicably about the other three gentlemen and lay +especial stress on Philippe, who was loyalty itself. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very true; they’re nice,” Nana would say as she +lingered on the floor to change her shift. “Only, you know, they see what +I am. One word about it and I should chuck ’em all out of doors for +you!” +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, despite her luxurious life and her group of courtiers, Nana was +nearly bored to death. She had men for every minute of the night, and money +overflowed even among the brushes and combs in the drawers of her dressing +table. But all this had ceased to satisfy her; she felt that there was a void +somewhere or other, an empty place provocative of yawns. Her life dragged on, +devoid of occupation, and successive days only brought back the same monotonous +hours. Tomorrow had ceased to be; she lived like a bird: sure of her food and +ready to perch and roost on any branch which she came to. This certainty of +food and drink left her lolling effortless for whole days, lulled her to sleep +in conventual idleness and submission as though she were the prisoner of her +trade. Never going out except to drive, she was losing her walking powers. She +reverted to low childish tastes, would kiss Bijou from morning to night and +kill time with stupid pleasures while waiting for the man whose caresses she +tolerated with an appearance of complaisant lassitude. Amid this species of +self-abandonment she now took no thought about anything save her personal +beauty; her sole care was to look after herself, to wash and to perfume her +limbs, as became one who was proud of being able to undress at any moment and +in face of anybody without having to blush for her imperfections. +</p> + +<p> +At ten in the morning Nana would get up. Bijou, the Scotch griffon dog, used to +lick her face and wake her, and then would ensue a game of play lasting some +five minutes, during which the dog would race about over her arms and legs and +cause Count Muffat much distress. Bijou was the first little male he had ever +been jealous of. It was not at all proper, he thought, that an animal should go +poking its nose under the bedclothes like that! After this Nana would proceed +to her dressing room, where she took a bath. Toward eleven o’clock +Francois would come and do up her hair before beginning the elaborate +manipulations of the afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +At breakfast, as she hated feeding alone, she nearly always had Mme Maloir at +table with her. This lady would arrive from unknown regions in the morning, +wearing her extravagantly quaint hats, and would return at night to that +mysterious existence of hers, about which no one ever troubled. But the hardest +to bear were the two or three hours between lunch and the toilet. On ordinary +occasions she proposed a game of bezique to her old friend; on others she would +read the Figaro, in which the theatrical echoes and the fashionable news +interested her. Sometimes she even opened a book, for she fancied herself in +literary matters. Her toilet kept her till close on five o’clock, and +then only she would wake from her daylong drowse and drive out or receive a +whole mob of men at her own house. She would often dine abroad and always go to +bed very late, only to rise again on the morrow with the same languor as before +and to begin another day, differing in nothing from its predecessor. +</p> + +<p> +The great distraction was to go to the Batignolles and see her little Louis at +her aunt’s. For a fortnight at a time she forgot all about him, and then +would follow an access of maternal love, and she would hurry off on foot with +all the modesty and tenderness becoming a good mother. On such occasions she +would be the bearer of snuff for her aunt and of oranges and biscuits for the +child, the kind of presents one takes to a hospital. Or again she would drive +up in her landau on her return from the Bois, decked in costumes, the +resplendence of which greatly excited the dwellers in the solitary street. +Since her niece’s magnificent elevation Mme Lerat had been puffed up with +vanity. She rarely presented herself in the Avenue de Villiers, for she was +pleased to remark that it wasn’t her place to do so, but she enjoyed +triumphs in her own street. She was delighted when the young woman arrived in +dresses that had cost four or five thousand francs and would be occupied during +the whole of the next day in showing off her presents and in citing prices +which quite stupefied the neighbors. As often as not, Nana kept Sunday free for +the sake of “her family,” and on such occasions, if Muffat invited +her, she would refuse with the smile of a good little shopwoman. It was +impossible, she would answer; she was dining at her aunt’s; she was going +to see Baby. Moreover, that poor little man Louiset was always ill. He was +almost three years old, growing quite a great boy! But he had had an eczema on +the back of his neck, and now concretions were forming in his ears, which +pointed, it was feared, to decay of the bones of the skull. When she saw how +pale he looked, with his spoiled blood and his flabby flesh all out in yellow +patches, she would become serious, but her principal feeling would be one of +astonishment. What could be the matter with the little love that he should grow +so weakly? She, his mother, was so strong and well! +</p> + +<p> +On the days when her child did not engross attention Nana would again sink back +into the noisy monotony of her existence, with its drives in the Bois, first +nights at the theater, dinners and suppers at the Maison-d’Or or the Café +Anglais, not to mention all the places of public resort, all the spectacles to +which crowds rushed—Mabille, the reviews, the races. But whatever +happened she still felt that stupid, idle void, which caused her, as it were, +to suffer internal cramps. Despite the incessant infatuations that possessed +her heart, she would stretch out her arms with a gesture of immense weariness +the moment she was left alone. Solitude rendered her low spirited at once, for +it brought her face to face with the emptiness and boredom within her. +Extremely gay by nature and profession, she became dismal in solitude and would +sum up her life in the following ejaculation, which recurred incessantly +between her yawns: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how the men bother me!” +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon as she was returning home from a concert, Nana, on the sidewalk +in the Rue Montmartre, noticed a woman trotting along in down-at-the-heel +boots, dirty petticoats and a hat utterly ruined by the rain. She recognized +her suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop, Charles!” she shouted to the coachman and began calling: +“Satin, Satin!” +</p> + +<p> +Passers-by turned their heads; the whole street stared. Satin had drawn near +and was still further soiling herself against the carriage wheels. +</p> + +<p> +“Do get in, my dear girl,” said Nana tranquilly, disdaining the +onlookers. +</p> + +<p> +And with that she picked her up and carried her off, though she was in +disgusting contrast to her light blue landau and her dress of pearl-gray silk +trimmed with Chantilly, while the street smiled at the coachman’s loftily +dignified demeanor. +</p> + +<p> +From that day forth Nana had a passion to occupy her thoughts. Satin became her +vicious foible. Washed and dressed and duly installed in the house in the +Avenue de Villiers, during three days the girl talked of Saint-Lazare and the +annoyances the sisters had caused her and how those dirty police people had put +her down on the official list. Nana grew indignant and comforted her and vowed +she would get her name taken off, even though she herself should have to go and +find out the minister of the interior. Meanwhile there was no sort of hurry: +nobody would come and search for her at Nana’s—that was certain. +And thereupon the two women began to pass tender afternoons together, making +numberless endearing little speeches and mingling their kisses with laughter. +The same little sport, which the arrival of the plainclothes men had +interrupted in the Rue de Laval, was beginning again in a jocular sort of +spirit. One fine evening, however, it became serious, and Nana, who had been so +disgusted at Laure’s, now understood what it meant. She was upset and +enraged by it, the more so because Satin disappeared on the morning of the +fourth day. No one had seen her go out. She had, indeed, slipped away in her +new dress, seized by a longing for air, full of sentimental regret for her old +street existence. +</p> + +<p> +That day there was such a terrible storm in the house that all the servants +hung their heads in sheepish silence. Nana had come near beating Francois for +not throwing himself across the door through which Satin escaped. She did her +best, however, to control herself, and talked of Satin as a dirty swine. Oh, it +would teach her to pick filthy things like that out of the gutter! +</p> + +<p> +When Madame shut herself up in her room in the afternoon Zoé heard her sobbing. +In the evening she suddenly asked for her carriage and had herself driven to +Laure’s. It had occurred to her that she would find Satin at the table +d’hôte in the Rue des Martyrs. She was not going there for the sake of +seeing her again but in order to catch her one in the face! As a matter of fact +Satin was dining at a little table with Mme Robert. Seeing Nana, she began to +laugh, but the former, though wounded to the quick, did not make a scene. On +the contrary, she was very sweet and very compliant. She paid for champagne +made five or six tablefuls tipsy and then carried off Satin when Mme Robert was +in the closets. Not till they were in the carriage did she make a mordant +attack on her, threatening to kill her if she did it again. +</p> + +<p> +After that day the same little business began again continually. On twenty +different occasions Nana, tragically furious, as only a jilted woman can be ran +off in pursuit of this sluttish creature, whose flights were prompted by the +boredom she suffered amid the comforts of her new home. Nana began to talk of +boxing Mme Robert’s ears; one day she even meditated a duel; there was +one woman too many, she said. +</p> + +<p> +In these latter times, whenever she dined at Laure’s, she donned her +diamonds and occasionally brought with her Louise Violaine, Maria Blond and +Tatan Nene, all of them ablaze with finery; and while the sordid feast was +progressing in the three saloons and the yellow gaslight flared overhead, these +four resplendent ladies would demean themselves with a vengeance, for it was +their delight to dazzle the little local courtesans and to carry them off when +dinner was over. On days such as these Laure, sleek and tight-laced as ever +would kiss everyone with an air of expanded maternity. Yet notwithstanding all +these circumstances Satin’s blue eyes and pure virginal face remained as +calm as heretofore; torn, beaten and pestered by the two women, she would +simply remark that it was a funny business, and they would have done far better +to make it up at once. It did no good to slap her; she couldn’t cut +herself in two, however much she wanted to be nice to everybody. It was Nana +who finally carried her off in triumph, so assiduously had she loaded Satin +with kindnesses and presents. In order to be revenged, however, Mme Robert +wrote abominable, anonymous letters to her rival’s lovers. +</p> + +<p> +For some time past Count Muffat had appeared suspicious, and one morning, with +considerable show of feeling, he laid before Nana an anonymous letter, where in +the very first sentences she read that she was accused of deceiving the count +with Vandeuvres and the young Hugons. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s false! It’s false!” she loudly exclaimed in +accents of extraordinary candor. +</p> + +<p> +“You swear?” asked Muffat, already willing to be comforted. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll swear by whatever you like—yes, by the head of my +child!” +</p> + +<p> +But the letter was long. Soon her connection with Satin was described in the +broadest and most ignoble terms. When she had done reading she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Now I know who it comes from,” she remarked simply. +</p> + +<p> +And as Muffat wanted her denial to the charges therein contained, she resumed +quietly enough: +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a matter which doesn’t concern you, dear old pet. How +can it hurt you?” +</p> + +<p> +She did not deny anything. He used some horrified expressions. Thereupon she +shrugged her shoulders. Where had he been all this time? Why, it was done +everywhere! And she mentioned her friends and swore that fashionable ladies +went in for it. In fact, to hear her speak, nothing could be commoner or more +natural. But a lie was a lie, and so a moment ago he had seen how angry she +grew in the matter of Vandeuvres and the young Hugons! Oh, if that had been +true he would have been justified in throttling her! But what was the good of +lying to him about a matter of no consequence? And with that she repeated her +previous expression: +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, how can it hurt you?” +</p> + +<p> +Then as the scene still continued, she closed it with a rough speech: +</p> + +<p> +“Besides, dear boy, if the thing doesn’t suit you it’s very +simple: the house door’s open! There now, you must take me as you find +me!” +</p> + +<p> +He hung his head, for the young woman’s vows of fidelity made him happy +at bottom. She, however, now knew her power over him and ceased to consider his +feelings. And from that time forth Satin was openly installed in the house on +the same footing as the gentlemen. Vandeuvres had not needed anonymous letters +in order to understand how matters stood, and accordingly he joked and tried to +pick jealous quarrels with Satin. Philippe and Georges, on their parts, treated +her like a jolly good fellow, shaking hands with her and cracking the riskiest +jokes imaginable. +</p> + +<p> +Nana had an adventure one evening when this slut of a girl had given her the +go-by and she had gone to dine in the Rue des Martyrs without being able to +catch her. While she was dining by herself Daguenet had appeared on the scene, +for although he had reformed, he still occasionally dropped in under the +influence of his old vicious inclinations. He hoped of course that no one would +meet him in these black recesses, dedicated to the town’s lowest +depravity. Accordingly even Nana’s presence seemed to embarrass him at +the outset. But he was not the man to run away and, coming forward with a +smile, he asked if Madame would be so kind as to allow him to dine at her +table. Noticing his jocular tone, Nana assumed her magnificently frigid +demeanor and icily replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down where you please, sir. We are in a public place.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus begun, the conversation proved amusing. But at dessert Nana, bored and +burning for a triumph, put her elbows on the table and began in the old +familiar way: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what about your marriage, my lad? Is it getting on all +right?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much,” Daguenet averred. +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact, just when he was about to venture on his request at the +Muffats’, he had met with such a cold reception from the count that he +had prudently refrained. The business struck him as a failure. Nana fixed her +clear eyes on him; she was sitting, leaning her chin on her hand, and there was +an ironical curve about her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes! I’m a baggage,” she resumed slowly. “Oh yes, +the future father-in-law will have to be dragged from between my claws! Dear +me, dear me, for a fellow with NOUS, you’re jolly stupid! What! +D’you mean to say you’re going to tell your tales to a man who +adores me and tells me everything? Now just listen: you shall marry if I wish +it, my little man!” +</p> + +<p> +For a minute or two he had felt the truth of this, and now he began scheming +out a method of submission. Nevertheless, he still talked jokingly, not wishing +the matter to grow serious, and after he had put on his gloves he demanded the +hand of Mlle Estelle de Beuville in the strict regulation manner. Nana ended by +laughing, as though she had been tickled. Oh, that Mimi! It was impossible to +bear him a grudge! Daguenet’s great successes with ladies of her class +were due to the sweetness of his voice, a voice of such musical purity and +pliancy as to have won him among courtesans the sobriquet of +“Velvet-Mouth.” Every woman would give way to him when he lulled +her with his sonorous caresses. He knew this power and rocked Nana to sleep +with endless words, telling her all kinds of idiotic anecdotes. When they left +the table d’hôte she was blushing rosy-red; she trembled as she hung on +his arm; he had reconquered her. As it was very fine, she sent her carriage +away and walked with him as far as his own place, where she went upstairs with +him naturally enough. Two hours later, as she was dressing again, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“So you hold to this marriage of yours, Mimi?” +</p> + +<p> +“Egad,” he muttered, “it’s the best thing I could +possibly do after all! You know I’m stony broke.” +</p> + +<p> +She summoned him to button her boots, and after a pause: +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens! I’ve no objection. I’ll shove you on! +She’s as dry as a lath, is that little thing, but since it suits your +game—oh, I’m agreeable: I’ll run the thing through for +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then with bosom still uncovered, she began laughing: +</p> + +<p> +“Only what will you give me?” +</p> + +<p> +He had caught her in his arms and was kissing her on the shoulders in a perfect +access of gratitude while she quivered with excitement and struggled merrily +and threw herself backward in her efforts to be free. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I know,” she cried, excited by the contest. “Listen to +what I want in the way of commission. On your wedding day you shall make me a +present of your innocence. Before your wife, d’you understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s it! That’s it!” he said, laughing even louder +than Nana. +</p> + +<p> +The bargain amused them—they thought the whole business very good, +indeed. +</p> + +<p> +Now as it happened, there was a dinner at Nana’s next day. For the matter +of that, it was the customary Thursday dinner, and Muffat, Vandeuvres, the +young Hugons and Satin were present. The count arrived early. He stood in need +of eighty thousand francs wherewith to free the young woman from two or three +debts and to give her a set of sapphires she was dying to possess. As he had +already seriously lessened his capital, he was in search of a lender, for he +did not dare to sell another property. With the advice of Nana herself he had +addressed himself to Labordette, but the latter, deeming it too heavy an +undertaking, had mentioned it to the hairdresser Francis, who willingly busied +himself in such affairs in order to oblige his lady clients. The count put +himself into the hands of these gentlemen but expressed a formal desire not to +appear in the matter, and they both undertook to keep in hand the bill for a +hundred thousand francs which he was to sign, excusing themselves at the same +time for charging a matter of twenty thousand francs interest and loudly +denouncing the blackguard usurers to whom, they declared, it had been necessary +to have recourse. When Muffat had himself announced, Francis was putting the +last touches to Nana’s coiffure. Labordette also was sitting familiarly +in the dressing room, as became a friend of no consequence. Seeing the count, +he discreetly placed a thick bundle of bank notes among the powders and +pomades, and the bill was signed on the marble-topped dressing table. Nana was +anxious to keep Labordette to dinner, but he declined—he was taking a +rich foreigner about Paris. Muffat, however, led him aside and begged him to go +to Becker, the jeweler, and bring him back thence the set of sapphires, which +he wanted to present the young woman by way of surprise that very evening. +Labordette willingly undertook the commission, and half an hour later Julien +handed the jewel case mysteriously to the count. +</p> + +<p> +During dinnertime Nana was nervous. The sight of the eighty thousand francs had +excited her. To think all that money was to go to tradespeople! It was a +disgusting thought. After soup had been served she grew sentimental, and in the +splendid dining room, glittering with plate and glass, she talked of the bliss +of poverty. The men were in evening dress, Nana in a gown of white embroidered +satin, while Satin made a more modest appearance in black silk with a simple +gold heart at her throat, which was a present from her kind friend. Julien and +Francois waited behind the guests and were assisted in this by Zoé. All three +looked most dignified. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s certain I had far greater fun when I hadn’t a +cent!” Nana repeated. +</p> + +<p> +She had placed Muffat on her right hand and Vandeuvres on her left, but she +scarcely looked at them, so taken up was she with Satin, who sat in state +between Philippe and Georges on the opposite side of the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, duckie?” she kept saying at every turn. “How we did use +to laugh in those days when we went to Mother Josse’s school in the Rue +Polonceau!” +</p> + +<p> +When the roast was being served the two women plunged into a world of +reminiscences. They used to have regular chattering fits of this kind when a +sudden desire to stir the muddy depths of their childhood would possess them. +These fits always occurred when men were present: it was as though they had +given way to a burning desire to treat them to the dunghill on which they had +grown to woman’s estate. The gentlemen paled visibly and looked +embarrassed. The young Hugons did their best to laugh, while Vandeuvres +nervously toyed with his beard and Muffat redoubled his gravity. +</p> + +<p> +“You remember Victor?” said Nana. “There was a wicked little +fellow for you! Why, he used to take the little girls into cellars!” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember him perfectly,” replied Satin. “I recollect the +big courtyard at your place very well. There was a portress there with a +broom!” +</p> + +<p> +“Mother Boche—she’s dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I can still picture your shop. Your mother was a great fatty. One +evening when we were playing your father came in drunk. Oh, so drunk!” +</p> + +<p> +At this point Vandeuvres tried to intercept the ladies’ reminiscences and +to effect a diversion, +</p> + +<p> +“I say, my dear, I should be very glad to have some more truffles. +They’re simply perfect. Yesterday I had some at the house of the Duc de +Corbreuse, which did not come up to them at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“The truffles, Julien!” said Nana roughly. +</p> + +<p> +Then returning to the subject: +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove, yes, Dad hadn’t any sense! And then what a smash there +was! You should have seen it—down, down, down we went, starving away all +the time. I can tell you I’ve had to bear pretty well everything and +it’s a miracle I didn’t kick the bucket over it, like Daddy and +Mamma.” +</p> + +<p> +This time Muffat, who was playing with his knife in a state of infinite +exasperation, made so bold as to intervene. +</p> + +<p> +“What you’re telling us isn’t very cheerful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, what? Not cheerful!” she cried with a withering glance. +“I believe you; it isn’t cheerful! Somebody had to earn a living +for us dear boy. Oh yes, you know, I’m the right sort; I don’t +mince matters. Mamma was a laundress; Daddy used to get drunk, and he died of +it! There! If it doesn’t suit you—if you’re ashamed of my +family—” +</p> + +<p> +They all protested. What was she after now? They had every sort of respect for +her family! But she went on: +</p> + +<p> +“If you’re ashamed of my family you’ll please leave me, +because I’m not one of those women who deny their father and mother. You +must take me and them together, d’you understand?” +</p> + +<p> +They took her as required; they accepted the dad, the mamma, the past; in fact, +whatever she chose. With their eyes fixed on the tablecloth, the four now sat +shrinking and insignificant while Nana, in a transport of omnipotence, trampled +on them in the old muddy boots worn long since in the Rue de la +Goutte-d’Or. She was determined not to lay down the cudgels just yet. It +was all very fine to bring her fortunes, to build her palaces; she would never +leave off regretting the time when she munched apples! Oh, what bosh that +stupid thing money was! It was made for the tradespeople! Finally her outburst +ended in a sentimentally expressed desire for a simple, openhearted existence, +to be passed in an atmosphere of universal benevolence. +</p> + +<p> +When she got to this point she noticed Julien waiting idly by. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what’s the matter? Hand the champagne then!” she said. +“Why d’you stand staring at me like a goose?” +</p> + +<p> +During this scene the servants had never once smiled. They apparently heard +nothing, and the more their mistress let herself down, the more majestic they +became. Julien set to work to pour out the champagne and did so without mishap, +but Francois, who was handing round the fruit, was so unfortunate as to tilt +the fruit dish too low, and the apples, the pears and the grapes rolled on the +table. +</p> + +<p> +“You bloody clumsy lot!” cried Nana. +</p> + +<p> +The footman was mistaken enough to try and explain that the fruit had not been +firmly piled up. Zoé had disarranged it by taking out some oranges. +</p> + +<p> +“Then it’s Zoé that’s the goose!” said Nana. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame—” murmured the lady’s maid in an injured tone. +</p> + +<p> +Straightway Madame rose to her feet, and in a sharp voice and with royally +authoritative gesture: +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve had enough of this, haven’t we? Leave the room, all of +you! We don’t want you any longer!” +</p> + +<p> +This summary procedure calmed her down, and she was forthwith all sweetness and +amiability. The dessert proved charming, and the gentlemen grew quite merry +waiting on themselves. But Satin, having peeled a pear, came and ate it behind +her darling, leaning on her shoulder the while and whispering sundry little +remarks in her ear, at which they both laughed very loudly. By and by she +wanted to share her last piece of pear with Nana and presented it to her +between her teeth. Whereupon there was a great nibbling of lips, and the pear +was finished amid kisses. At this there was a burst of comic protest from the +gentlemen, Philippe shouting to them to take it easy and Vandeuvres asking if +one ought to leave the room. Georges, meanwhile, had come and put his arm round +Satin’s waist and had brought her back to her seat. +</p> + +<p> +“How silly of you!” said Nana. “You’re making her +blush, the poor, darling duck. Never mind, dear girl, let them chaff. +It’s our own little private affair.” +</p> + +<p> +And turning to Muffat, who was watching them with his serious expression: +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t it, my friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, certainly,” he murmured with a slow nod of approval. +</p> + +<p> +He no longer protested now. And so amid that company of gentlemen with the +great names and the old, upright traditions, the two women sat face to face, +exchanging tender glances, conquering, reigning, in tranquil defiance of the +laws of sex, in open contempt for the male portion of the community. The +gentlemen burst into applause. +</p> + +<p> +The company went upstairs to take coffee in the little drawing room, where a +couple of lamps cast a soft glow over the rosy hangings and the lacquer and old +gold of the knickknacks. At that hour of the evening the light played +discreetly over coffers, bronzes and china, lighting up silver or ivory inlaid +work, bringing into view the polished contours of a carved stick and gleaming +over a panel with glossy silky reflections. The fire, which had been burning +since the afternoon, was dying out in glowing embers. It was very +warm—the air behind the curtains and hangings was languid with warmth. +The room was full of Nana’s intimate existence: a pair of gloves, a +fallen handkerchief, an open book, lay scattered about, and their owner seemed +present in careless attire with that well-known odor of violets and that +species of untidiness which became her in her character of good-natured +courtesan and had such a charming effect among all those rich surroundings. The +very armchairs, which were as wide as beds, and the sofas, which were as deep +as alcoves, invited to slumber oblivious of the flight of time and to tender +whispers in shadowy corners. +</p> + +<p> +Satin went and lolled back in the depths of a sofa near the fireplace. She had +lit a cigarette, but Vandeuvres began amusing himself by pretending to be +ferociously jealous. Nay, he even threatened to send her his seconds if she +still persisted in keeping Nana from her duty. Philippe and Georges joined him +and teased her and badgered her so mercilessly that at last she shouted out: +</p> + +<p> +“Darling! Darling! Do make ’em keep quiet! They’re still +after me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, let her be,” said Nana seriously. “I won’t +have her tormented; you know that quite well. And you, my pet, why d’you +always go mixing yourself up with them when they’ve got so little +sense?” +</p> + +<p> +Satin, blushing all over and putting out her tongue, went into the dressing +room, through the widely open door of which you caught a glimpse of pale +marbles gleaming in the milky light of a gas flame in a globe of rough glass. +After that Nana talked to the four men as charmingly as hostess could. During +the day she had read a novel which was at that time making a good deal of +noise. It was the history of a courtesan, and Nana was very indignant, +declaring the whole thing to be untrue and expressing angry dislike to that +kind of monstrous literature which pretends to paint from nature. “Just +as though one could describe everything,” she said. Just as though a +novel ought not to be written so that the reader may while away an hour +pleasantly! In the matter of books and of plays Nana had very decided opinions: +she wanted tender and noble productions, things that would set her dreaming and +would elevate her soul. Then allusion being made in the course of conversation +to the troubles agitating Paris, the incendiary articles in the papers, the +incipient popular disturbances which followed the calls to arms nightly raised +at public meetings, she waxed wroth with the Republicans. What on earth did +those dirty people who never washed really want? Were folks not happy? Had not +the emperor done everything for the people? A nice filthy lot of people! She +knew ’em; she could talk about ’em, and, quite forgetting the +respect which at dinner she had just been insisting should be paid to her +humble circle in the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or, she began blackguarding her +own class with all the terror and disgust peculiar to a woman who had risen +successfully above it. That very afternoon she had read in the Figaro an +account of the proceedings at a public meeting which had verged on the comic. +Owing to the slang words that had been used and to the piggish behavior of a +drunken man who had got himself chucked, she was laughing at those proceedings +still. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, those drunkards!” she said with a disgusted air. “No, +look you here, their republic would be a great misfortune for everybody! Oh, +may God preserve us the emperor as long as possible!” +</p> + +<p> +“God will hear your prayer, my dear,” Muffat replied gravely. +“To be sure, the emperor stands firm.” +</p> + +<p> +He liked her to express such excellent views. Both, indeed, understood one +another in political matters. Vandeuvres and Philippe Hugon likewise indulged +in endless jokes against the “cads,” the quarrelsome set who +scuttled off the moment they clapped eyes on a bayonet. But Georges that +evening remained pale and somber. +</p> + +<p> +“What can be the matter with that baby?” asked Nana, noticing his +troubled appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“With me? Nothing—I am listening,” he muttered. +</p> + +<p> +But he was really suffering. On rising from table he had heard Philippe joking +with the young woman, and now it was Philippe, and not himself, who sat beside +her. His heart, he knew not why, swelled to bursting. He could not bear to see +them so close together; such vile thoughts oppressed him that shame mingled +with his anguish. He who laughed at Satin, who had accepted Steiner and Muffat +and all the rest, felt outraged and murderous at the thought that Philippe +might someday touch that woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, take Bijou,” she said to comfort him, and she passed him the +little dog which had gone to sleep on her dress. +</p> + +<p> +And with that Georges grew happy again, for with the beast still warm from her +lap in his arms, he held, as it were, part of her. +</p> + +<p> +Allusion had been made to a considerable loss which Vandeuvres had last night +sustained at the Imperial Club. Muffat, who did not play, expressed great +astonishment, but Vandeuvres smilingly alluded to his imminent ruin, about +which Paris was already talking. The kind of death you chose did not much +matter, he averred; the great thing was to die handsomely. For some time past +Nana had noticed that he was nervous and had a sharp downward droop of the +mouth and a fitful gleam in the depths of his clear eyes. But he retained his +haughty aristocratic manner and the delicate elegance of his impoverished race, +and as yet these strange manifestations were only, so to speak, momentary fits +of vertigo overcoming a brain already sapped by play and by debauchery. One +night as he lay beside her he had frightened her with a dreadful story. He had +told her he contemplated shutting himself up in his stable and setting fire to +himself and his horses at such time as he should have devoured all his +substance. His only hope at that period was a horse, Lusignan by name, which he +was training for the Prix de Paris. He was living on this horse, which was the +sole stay of his shaken credit, and whenever Nana grew exacting he would put +her off till June and to the probability of Lusignan’s winning. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! He may very likely lose,” she said merrily, “since +he’s going to clear them all out at the races.” +</p> + +<p> +By way of reply he contented himself by smiling a thin, mysterious smile. Then +carelessly: +</p> + +<p> +“By the by, I’ve taken the liberty of giving your name to my +outsider, the filly. Nana, Nana—that sounds well. You’re not +vexed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Vexed, why?” she said in a state of inward ecstasy. +</p> + +<p> +The conversation continued, and same mention was made of an execution shortly +to take place. The young woman said she was burning to go to it when Satin +appeared at the dressing-room door and called her in tones of entreaty. She got +up at once and left the gentlemen lolling lazily about, while they finished +their cigars and discussed the grave question as to how far a murderer subject +to chronic alcoholism is responsible for his act. In the dressing room Zoé sat +helpless on a chair, crying her heart out, while Satin vainly endeavored to +console her. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” said Nana in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, darling, do speak to her!” said Satin. “I’ve been +trying to make her listen to reason for the last twenty minutes. She’s +crying because you called her a goose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame, it’s very hard—very hard,” stuttered Zoé, +choked by a fresh fit of sobbing. +</p> + +<p> +This sad sight melted the young woman’s heart at once. She spoke kindly, +and when the other woman still refused to grow calm she sank down in front of +her and took her round the waist with truly cordial familiarity: +</p> + +<p> +“But, you silly, I said ‘goose’ just as I might have said +anything else. How shall I explain? I was in a passion—it was wrong of +me; now calm down.” +</p> + +<p> +“I who love Madame so,” stuttered Zoé; “after all I’ve +done for Madame.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon Nana kissed the lady’s maid and, wishing to show her she +wasn’t vexed, gave her a dress she had worn three times. Their quarrels +always ended up in the giving of presents! Zoé plugged her handkerchief into +her eyes. She carried the dress off over her arm and added before leaving that +they were very sad in the kitchen and that Julien and Francois had been unable +to eat, so entirely had Madame’s anger taken away their appetites. +Thereupon Madame sent them a louis as a pledge of reconciliation. She suffered +too much if people around her were sorrowful. +</p> + +<p> +Nana was returning to the drawing room, happy in the thought that she had +patched up a disagreement which was rendering her quietly apprehensive of the +morrow, when Satin came and whispered vehemently in her ear. She was full of +complaint, threatened to be off if those men still went on teasing her and kept +insisting that her darling should turn them all out of doors for that night, at +any rate. It would be a lesson to them. And then it would be so nice to be +alone, both of them! Nana, with a return of anxiety, declared it to be +impossible. Thereupon the other shouted at her like a violent child and tried +hard to overrule her. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish it, d’you see? Send ’em away or I’m off!” +</p> + +<p> +And she went back into the drawing room, stretched herself out in the recesses +of a divan, which stood in the background near the window, and lay waiting, +silent and deathlike, with her great eyes fixed upon Nana. +</p> + +<p> +The gentlemen were deciding against the new criminological theories. Granted +that lovely invention of irresponsibility in certain pathological cases, and +criminals ceased to exist and sick people alone remained. The young woman, +expressing approval with an occasional nod, was busy considering how best to +dismiss the count. The others would soon be going, but he would assuredly prove +obstinate. In fact, when Philippe got up to withdraw, Georges followed him at +once—he seemed only anxious not to leave his brother behind. Vandeuvres +lingered some minutes longer, feeling his way, as it were, and waiting to find +out if, by any chance, some important business would oblige Muffat to cede him +his place. Soon, however, when he saw the count deliberately taking up his +quarters for the night, he desisted from his purpose and said good-by, as +became a man of tact. But on his way to the door, he noticed Satin staring +fixedly at Nana, as usual. Doubtless he understood what this meant, for he +seemed amused and came and shook hands with her. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re not angry, eh?” he whispered. “Pray pardon me. +You’re the nicer attraction of the two, on my honor!” +</p> + +<p> +Satin deigned no reply. Nor did she take her eyes off Nana and the count, who +were now alone. Muffat, ceasing to be ceremonious, had come to sit beside the +young woman. He took her fingers and began kissing them. Whereupon Nana, +seeking to change the current of his thoughts, asked him if his daughter +Estelle were better. The previous night he had been complaining of the +child’s melancholy behavior—he could not even spend a day happily +at his own house, with his wife always out and his daughter icily silent. +</p> + +<p> +In family matters of this kind Nana was always full of good advice, and when +Muffat abandoned all his usual self-control under the influence of mental and +physical relaxation and once more launched out into his former plaints, she +remembered the promise she had made. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose you were to marry her?” she said. And with that she +ventured to talk of Daguenet. At the mere mention of the name the count was +filled with disgust. “Never,” he said after what she had told him! +</p> + +<p> +She pretended great surprise and then burst out laughing and put her arm round +his neck. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the jealous man! To think of it! Just argue it out a little. Why, +they slandered me to you—I was furious. At present I should be ever so +sorry if—” +</p> + +<p> +But over Muffat’s shoulder she met Satin’s gaze. And she left him +anxiously and in a grave voice continued: +</p> + +<p> +“This marriage must come off, my friend; I don’t want to prevent +your daughter’s happiness. The young man’s most charming; you could +not possibly find a better sort.” +</p> + +<p> +And she launched into extraordinary praise of Daguenet. The count had again +taken her hands; he no longer refused now; he would see about it, he said, they +would talk the matter over. By and by, when he spoke of going to bed, she sank +her voice and excused herself. It was impossible; she was not well. If he loved +her at all he would not insist! Nevertheless, he was obstinate; he refused to +go away, and she was beginning to give in when she met Satin’s eyes once +more. Then she grew inflexible. No, the thing was out of the question! The +count, deeply moved and with a look of suffering, had risen and was going in +quest of his hat. But in the doorway he remembered the set of sapphires; he +could feel the case in his pocket. He had been wanting to hide it at the bottom +of the bed so that when she entered it before him she should feel it against +her legs. Since dinnertime he had been meditating this little surprise like a +schoolboy, and now, in trouble and anguish of heart at being thus dismissed, he +gave her the case without further ceremony. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” she queried. “Sapphires? Dear me! Oh yes, +it’s that set. How sweet you are! But I say, my darling, d’you +believe it’s the same one? In the shopwindow it made a much greater +show.” +</p> + +<p> +That was all the thanks he got, and she let him go away. He noticed Satin +stretched out silent and expectant, and with that he gazed at both women and +without further insistence submitted to his fate and went downstairs. The hall +door had not yet closed when Satin caught Nana round the waist and danced and +sang. Then she ran to the window. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, just look at the figure he cuts down in the street!” The two +women leaned upon the wrought-iron window rail in the shadow of the curtains. +One o’clock struck. The Avenue de Villiers was deserted, and its double +file of gas lamps stretched away into the darkness of the damp March night +through which great gusts of wind kept sweeping, laden with rain. There were +vague stretches of land on either side of the road which looked like gulfs of +shadow, while scaffoldings round mansions in process of construction loomed +upward under the dark sky. They laughed uncontrollably as they watched +Muffat’s rounded back and glistening shadow disappearing along the wet +sidewalk into the glacial, desolate plains of new Paris. But Nana silenced +Satin. +</p> + +<p> +“Take care; there are the police!” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon they smothered their laughter and gazed in secret fear at two dark +figures walking with measured tread on the opposite side of the avenue. Amid +all her luxurious surroundings, amid all the royal splendors of the woman whom +all must obey, Nana still stood in horror of the police and did not like to +hear them mentioned any oftener than death. She felt distinctly unwell when a +policeman looked up at her house. One never knew what such people might do! +They might easily take them for loose women if they heard them laughing at that +hour of the night. Satin, with a little shudder, had squeezed herself up +against Nana. Nevertheless, the pair stayed where they were and were soon +interested in the approach of a lantern, the light of which danced over the +puddles in the road. It was an old ragpicker woman who was busy raking in the +gutters. Satin recognized her. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me,” she exclaimed, “it’s Queen Pomare with her +wickerwork shawl!” +</p> + +<p> +And while a gust of wind lashed the fine rain in their faces she told her +beloved the story of Queen Pomare. Oh, she had been a splendid girl once upon a +time: all Paris had talked of her beauty. And such devilish go and such cheek! +Why, she led the men about like dogs, and great people stood blubbering on her +stairs! Now she was in the habit of getting tipsy, and the women round about +would make her drink absinthe for the sake of a laugh, after which the street +boys would throw stones at her and chase her. In fact, it was a regular +smashup; the queen had tumbled into the mud! Nana listened, feeling cold all +over. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall see,” added Satin. +</p> + +<p> +She whistled a man’s whistle, and the ragpicker, who was then below the +window, lifted her head and showed herself by the yellow flare of her lantern. +Framed among rags, a perfect bundle of them, a face looked out from under a +tattered kerchief—a blue, seamed face with a toothless, cavernous mouth +and fiery bruises where the eyes should be. And Nana, seeing the frightful old +woman, the wanton drowned in drink, had a sudden fit of recollection and saw +far back amid the shadows of consciousness the vision of Chamont—Irma +d’Anglars, the old harlot crowned with years and honors, ascending the +steps in front of her château amid abjectly reverential villagers. Then as +Satin whistled again, making game of the old hag, who could not see her: +</p> + +<p> +“Do leave off; there are the police!” she murmured in changed +tones. “In with us, quick, my pet!” +</p> + +<p> +The measured steps were returning, and they shut the window. Turning round +again, shivering, and with the damp of night on her hair, Nana was momentarily +astounded at sight of her drawing room. It seemed as though she had forgotten +it and were entering an unknown chamber. So warm, so full of perfume, was the +air she encountered that she experienced a sense of delighted surprise. The +heaped-up wealth of the place, the Old World furniture, the fabrics of silk and +gold, the ivory, the bronzes, were slumbering in the rosy light of the lamps, +while from the whole of the silent house a rich feeling of great luxury +ascended, the luxury of the solemn reception rooms, of the comfortable, ample +dining room, of the vast retired staircase, with their soft carpets and seats. +Her individuality, with its longing for domination and enjoyment and its desire +to possess everything that she might destroy everything, was suddenly +increased. Never before had she felt so profoundly the puissance of her sex. +She gazed slowly round and remarked with an expression of grave philosophy: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah well, all the same, one’s jolly well right to profit by things +when one’s young!” +</p> + +<p> +But now Satin was rolling on the bearskins in the bedroom and calling her. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do come! Do come!” +</p> + +<p> +Nana undressed in the dressing room, and in order to be quicker about it she +took her thick fell of blonde hair in both hands and began shaking it above the +silver wash hand basin, while a downward hail of long hairpins rang a little +chime on the shining metal. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"></a> CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p> +One Sunday the race for the Grand Prix de Paris was being run in the Bois de +Boulogne beneath skies rendered sultry by the first heats of June. The sun that +morning had risen amid a mist of dun-colored dust, but toward eleven +o’clock, just when the carriages were reaching the Longchamps course, a +southerly wind had swept away the clouds; long streamers of gray vapor were +disappearing across the sky, and gaps showing an intense blue beyond were +spreading from one end of the horizon to the other. In the bright bursts of +sunlight which alternated with the clouds the whole scene shone again, from the +field which was gradually filling with a crowd of carriages, horsemen and +pedestrians, to the still-vacant course, where the judge’s box stood, +together with the posts and the masts for signaling numbers, and thence on to +the five symmetrical stands of brickwork and timber, rising gallery upon +gallery in the middle of the weighing enclosure opposite. Beyond these, bathed +in the light of noon, lay the vast level plain, bordered with little trees and +shut in to the westward by the wooded heights of Saint-Cloud and the Suresnes, +which, in their turn, were dominated by the severe outlines of Mont-Valerien. +</p> + +<p> +Nana, as excited as if the Grand Prix were going to make her fortune, wanted to +take up a position by the railing next the winning post. She had arrived very +early—she was, in fact, one of the first to come—in a landau +adorned with silver and drawn, à la Daumont, by four splendid white horses. +This landau was a present from Count Muffat. When she had made her appearance +at the entrance to the field with two postilions jogging blithely on the near +horses and two footmen perching motionless behind the carriage, the people had +rushed to look as though a queen were passing. She sported the blue and white +colors of the Vandeuvres stable, and her dress was remarkable. It consisted of +a little blue silk bodice and tunic, which fitted closely to the body and +bulged out enormously behind her waist, thereby bringing her lower limbs into +bold relief in such a manner as to be extremely noticeable in that epoch of +voluminous skirts. Then there was a white satin dress with white satin sleeves +and a sash worn crosswise over the shoulders, the whole ornamented with silver +guipure which shone in the sun. In addition to this, in order to be still more +like a jockey, she had stuck a blue toque with a white feather jauntily upon +her chignon, the fair tresses from which flowed down beyond her shoulders and +resembled an enormous russet pigtail. +</p> + +<p> +Twelve struck. The public would have to wait more than three hours for the +Grand Prix to be run. When the landau had drawn up beside the barriers Nana +settled herself comfortably down as though she were in her own house. A whim +had prompted her to bring Bijou and Louiset with her, and the dog crouched +among her skirts, shivering with cold despite the heat of the day, while amid a +bedizenment of ribbons and laces the child’s poor little face looked +waxen and dumb and white in the open air. Meanwhile the young woman, without +troubling about the people near her, talked at the top of her voice with +Georges and Philippe Hugon, who were seated opposite on the front seat among +such a mountain of bouquets of white roses and blue myosotis that they were +buried up to their shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Well then,” she was saying, “as he bored me to death, I +showed him the door. And now it’s two days that he’s been +sulking.” +</p> + +<p> +She was talking of Muffat, but she took care not to confess to the young men +the real reason for this first quarrel, which was that one evening he had found +a man’s hat in her bedroom. She had indeed brought home a passer-by out +of sheer ennui—a silly infatuation. +</p> + +<p> +“You have no idea how funny he is,” she continued, growing merry +over the particulars she was giving. “He’s a regular bigot at +bottom, so he says his prayers every evening. Yes, he does. He’s under +the impression I notice nothing because I go to bed first so as not to be in +his way, but I watch him out of the corner of my eye. Oh, he jaws away, and +then he crosses himself when he turns round to step over me and get to the +inside of the bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jove, it’s sly,” muttered Philippe. “That’s what +happens before, but afterward, what then?” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed merrily. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, just so, before and after! When I’m going to sleep I hear him +jawing away again. But the biggest bore of all is that we can’t argue +about anything now without his growing ‘pi.’ I’ve always been +religious. Yes, chaff as much as you like; that won’t prevent me +believing what I do believe! Only he’s too much of a nuisance: he +blubbers; he talks about remorse. The day before yesterday, for instance, he +had a regular fit of it after our usual row, and I wasn’t the least bit +reassured when all was over.” +</p> + +<p> +But she broke off, crying out: +</p> + +<p> +“Just look at the Mignons arriving. Dear me, they’ve brought the +children! Oh, how those little chaps are dressed up!” +</p> + +<p> +The Mignons were in a landau of severe hue; there was something substantially +luxurious about their turnout, suggesting rich retired tradespeople. Rose was +in a gray silk gown trimmed with red knots and with puffs; she was smiling +happily at the joyous behavior of Henri and Charles, who sat on the front seat, +looking awkward in their ill-fitting collegians’ tunics. But when the +landau had drawn up by the rails and she perceived Nana sitting in triumph +among her bouquets, with her four horses and her liveries, she pursed up her +lips, sat bolt upright and turned her head away. Mignon, on the other hand, +looking the picture of freshness and gaiety, waved her a salutation. He made it +a matter of principle to keep out of feminine disagreements. +</p> + +<p> +“By the by,” Nana resumed, “d’you know a little old man +who’s very clean and neat and has bad teeth—a Monsieur Venot? He +came to see me this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Venot?” said Georges in great astonishment. +“It’s impossible! Why, the man’s a Jesuit!” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely; I spotted that. Oh, you have no idea what our conversation +was like! It was just funny! He spoke to me about the count, about his divided +house, and begged me to restore a family its happiness. He was very polite and +very smiling for the matter of that. Then I answered to the effect that I +wanted nothing better, and I undertook to reconcile the count and his wife. You +know it’s not humbug. I should be delighted to see them all happy again, +the poor things! Besides, it would be a relief to me for there are +days—yes, there are days—when he bores me to death.” +</p> + +<p> +The weariness of the last months escaped her in this heartfelt outburst. +Moreover, the count appeared to be in big money difficulties; he was anxious +and it seemed likely that the bill which Labordette had put his name to would +not be met. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, the countess is down yonder,” said Georges, letting his +gaze wander over the stands. +</p> + +<p> +“Where, where?” cried Nana. “What eyes that baby’s got! +Hold my sunshade, Philippe.” +</p> + +<p> +But with a quick forward dart Georges had outstripped his brother. It enchanted +him to be holding the blue silk sunshade with its silver fringe. Nana was +scanning the scene through a huge pair of field glasses. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah yes! I see her,” she said at length. “In the right-hand +stand, near a pillar, eh? She’s in mauve, and her daughter in white by +her side. Dear me, there’s Daguenet going to bow to them.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon Philippe talked of Daguenet’s approaching marriage with that +lath of an Estelle. It was a settled matter—the banns were being +published. At first the countess had opposed it, but the count, they said, had +insisted. Nana smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I know, I know,” she murmured. “So much the better for Paul. +He’s a nice boy—he deserves it.” +</p> + +<p> +And leaning toward Louiset: +</p> + +<p> +“You’re enjoying yourself, eh? What a grave face!” +</p> + +<p> +The child never smiled. With a very old expression he was gazing at all those +crowds, as though the sight of them filled him with melancholy reflections. +Bijou, chased from the skirts of the young woman who was moving about a great +deal, had come to nestle, shivering, against the little fellow. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the field was filling up. Carriages, a compact, interminable file of +them, were continually arriving through the Porte de la Cascade. There were big +omnibuses such as the Pauline, which had started from the Boulevard des +Italiens, freighted with its fifty passengers, and was now going to draw up to +the right of the stands. Then there were dogcarts, victorias, landaus, all +superbly well turned out, mingled with lamentable cabs which jolted along +behind sorry old hacks, and four-in-hands, sending along their four horses, and +mail coaches, where the masters sat on the seats above and left the servants to +take care of the hampers of champagne inside, and “spiders,” the +immense wheels of which were a flash of glittering steel, and light tandems, +which looked as delicately formed as the works of a clock and slipped along +amid a peal of little bells. Every few seconds an equestrian rode by, and a +swarm of people on foot rushed in a scared way among the carriages. On the +green the far-off rolling sound which issued from the avenues in the Bois died +out suddenly in dull rustlings, and now nothing was audible save the hubbub of +the ever-increasing crowds and cries and calls and the crackings of whips in +the open. When the sun, amid bursts of wind, reappeared at the edge of a cloud, +a long ray of golden light ran across the field, lit up the harness and the +varnished coach panels and touched the ladies’ dresses with fire, while +amid the dusty radiance the coachmen, high up on their boxes, flamed beside +their great whips. +</p> + +<p> +Labordette was getting out of an open carriage where Gaga, Clarisse and Blanche +de Sivry had kept a place for him. As he was hurrying to cross the course and +enter the weighing enclosure Nana got Georges to call him. Then when he came +up: +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the betting on me?” she asked laughingly. +</p> + +<p> +She referred to the filly Nana, the Nana who had let herself be shamefully +beaten in the race for the Prix de Diane and had not even been placed in April +and May last when she ran for the Prix des Cars and the Grande Poule des +Produits, both of which had been gained by Lusignan, the other horse in the +Vandeuvres stable. Lusignan had all at once become prime favorite, and since +yesterday he had been currently taken at two to one. +</p> + +<p> +“Always fifty to one against,” replied Labordette. +</p> + +<p> +“The deuce! I’m not worth much,” rejoined Nana, amused by the +jest. “I don’t back myself then; no, by jingo! I don’t put a +single louis on myself.” +</p> + +<p> +Labordette went off again in a great hurry, but she recalled him. She wanted +some advice. Since he kept in touch with the world of trainers and jockeys he +had special information about various stables. His prognostications had come +true a score of times already, and people called him the “King of +Tipsters.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s see, what horses ought I to choose?” said the young +woman. “What’s the betting on the Englishman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Spirit? Three to one against. Valerio II, the same. As to the others, +they’re laying twenty-five to one against Cosinus, forty to one against +Hazard, thirty to one against Bourn, thirty-five to one against Pichenette, ten +to one against Frangipane.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t bet on the Englishman, I don’t. I’m a +patriot. Perhaps Valerio II would do, eh? The Duc de Corbreuse was beaming a +little while ago. Well, no, after all! Fifty louis on Lusignan; what do you say +to that?” +</p> + +<p> +Labordette looked at her with a singular expression. She leaned forward and +asked him questions in a low voice, for she was aware that Vandeuvres +commissioned him to arrange matters with the bookmakers so as to be able to bet +the more easily. Supposing him to have got to know something, he might quite +well tell it her. But without entering into explanations Labordette persuaded +her to trust to his sagacity. He would put on her fifty louis for her as he +might think best, and she would not repent of his arrangement. +</p> + +<p> +“All the horses you like!” she cried gaily, letting him take his +departure, “but no Nana; she’s a jade!” +</p> + +<p> +There was a burst of uproarious laughter in the carriage. The young men thought +her sally very amusing, while Louiset in his ignorance lifted his pale eyes to +his mother’s face, for her loud exclamations surprised him. However, +there was no escape for Labordette as yet. Rose Mignon had made a sign to him +and was now giving him her commands while he wrote figures in a notebook. Then +Clarisse and Gaga called him back in order to change their bets, for they had +heard things said in the crowd, and now they didn’t want to have anything +more to do with Valerio II and were choosing Lusignan. He wrote down their +wishes with an impassible expression and at length managed to escape. He could +be seen disappearing between two of the stands on the other side of the course. +</p> + +<p> +Carriages were still arriving. They were by this time drawn up five rows deep, +and a dense mass of them spread along the barriers, checkered by the light +coats of white horses. Beyond them other carriages stood about in comparative +isolation, looking as though they had stuck fast in the grass. Wheels and +harness were here, there and everywhere, according as the conveyances to which +they belonged were side by side, at an angle, across and across or head to +head. Over such spaces of turf as still remained unoccupied cavaliers kept +trotting, and black groups of pedestrians moved continually. The scene +resembled the field where a fair is being held, and above it all, amid the +confused motley of the crowd, the drinking booths raised their gray canvas +roofs which gleamed white in the sunshine. But a veritable tumult, a mob, an +eddy of hats, surged round the several bookmakers, who stood in open carriages +gesticulating like itinerant dentists while their odds were pasted up on tall +boards beside them. +</p> + +<p> +“All the same, it’s stupid not to know on what horse one’s +betting,” Nana was remarking. “I really must risk some louis in +person.” +</p> + +<p> +She had stood up to select a bookmaker with a decent expression of face but +forgot what she wanted on perceiving a perfect crowd of her acquaintance. +Besides the Mignons, besides Gaga, Clarisse and Blanche, there were present, to +the right and left, behind and in the middle of the mass of carriages now +hemming in her landau, the following ladies: Tatan Nene and Maria Blond in a +victoria, Caroline Hequet with her mother and two gentlemen in an open +carriage, Louise Violaine quite alone, driving a little basket chaise decked +with orange and green ribbons, the colors of the Mechain stables, and finally, +Léa de Horn on the lofty seat of a mail coach, where a band of young men were +making a great din. Farther off, in a HUIT RESSORTS of aristocratic appearance, +Lucy Stewart, in a very simple black silk dress, sat, looking distinguished +beside a tall young man in the uniform of a naval cadet. But what most +astounded Nana was the arrival of Simonne in a tandem which Steiner was +driving, while a footman sat motionless, with folded arms, behind them. She +looked dazzling in white satin striped with yellow and was covered with +diamonds from waist to hat. The banker, on his part, was handling a tremendous +whip and sending along his two horses, which were harnessed tandemwise, the +leader being a little warm-colored chestnut with a mouselike trot, the shaft +horse a big brown bay, a stepper, with a fine action. +</p> + +<p> +“Deuce take it!” said Nana. “So that thief Steiner has +cleared the Bourse again, has he? I say, isn’t Simonne a swell! +It’s too much of a good thing; he’ll get into the clutches of the +law!” +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, she exchanged greetings at a distance. Indeed, she kept waving +her hand and smiling, turning round and forgetting no one in her desire to be +seen by everybody. At the same time she continued chatting. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s her son Lucy’s got in tow! He’s charming in his +uniform. That’s why she’s looking so grand, of course! You know +she’s afraid of him and that she passes herself off as an actress. Poor +young man, I pity him all the same! He seems quite unsuspicious.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah,” muttered Philippe, laughing, “she’ll be able to +find him an heiress in the country when she likes.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana was silent, for she had just noticed the Tricon amid the thick of the +carriages. Having arrived in a cab, whence she could not see anything, the +Tricon had quietly mounted the coach box. And there, straightening up her tall +figure, with her noble face enshrined in its long curls, she dominated the +crowd as though enthroned amid her feminine subjects. All the latter smiled +discreetly at her while she, in her superiority, pretended not to know them. +She wasn’t there for business purposes: she was watching the races for +the love of the thing, as became a frantic gambler with a passion for +horseflesh. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, there’s that idiot La Faloise!” said Georges +suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +It was a surprise to them all. Nana did not recognize her La Faloise, for since +he had come into his inheritance he had grown extraordinarily up to date. He +wore a low collar and was clad in a cloth of delicate hue which fitted close to +his meager shoulders. His hair was in little bandeaux, and he affected a weary +kind of swagger, a soft tone of voice and slang words and phrases which he did +not take the trouble to finish. +</p> + +<p> +“But he’s quite the thing!” declared Nana in perfect +enchantment. +</p> + +<p> +Gaga and Clarisse had called La Faloise and were throwing themselves at him in +their efforts to regain his allegiance, but he left them immediately, rolling +off in a chaffing, disdainful manner. Nana dazzled him. He rushed up to her and +stood on the carriage step, and when she twitted him about Gaga he murmured: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh dear, no! We’ve seen the last of the old lot! Mustn’t +play her off on me any more. And then, you know, it’s you now, Juliet +mine!” +</p> + +<p> +He had put his hand to his heart. Nana laughed a good deal at this exceedingly +sudden out-of-door declaration. She continued: +</p> + +<p> +“I say, that’s not what I’m after. You’re making me +forget that I want to lay wagers. Georges, you see that bookmaker down there, a +great red-faced man with curly hair? He’s got a dirty blackguard +expression which I like. You’re to go and choose—Oh, I say, what +can one choose?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not a patriotic soul—oh dear, no!” La Faloise +blurted out. “I’m all for the Englishman. It will be ripping if the +Englishman gains! The French may go to Jericho!” +</p> + +<p> +Nana was scandalized. Presently the merits of the several horses began to be +discussed, and La Faloise, wishing to be thought very much in the swim, spoke +of them all as sorry jades. Frangipane, Baron Verdier’s horse, was by The +Truth out of Lenore. A big bay horse he was, who would certainly have stood a +chance if they hadn’t let him get foundered during training. As to +Valerio II from the Corbreuse stable, he wasn’t ready yet; he’d had +the colic in April. Oh yes, they were keeping that dark, but he was sure of it, +on his honor! In the end he advised Nana to choose Hazard, the most defective +of the lot, a horse nobody would have anything to do with. Hazard, by +jingo—such superb lines and such an action! That horse was going to +astonish the people. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Nana, “I’m going to put ten louis on +Lusignan and five on Boum.” +</p> + +<p> +La Faloise burst forth at once: +</p> + +<p> +“But, my dear girl, Boum’s all rot! Don’t choose him! Gasc +himself is chucking up backing his own horse. And your Lusignan—never! +Why, it’s all humbug! By Lamb and Princess—just think! By Lamb and +Princess—no, by Jove! All too short in the legs!” +</p> + +<p> +He was choking. Philippe pointed out that, notwithstanding this, Lusignan had +won the Prix des Cars and the Grande Poule des Produits. But the other ran on +again. What did that prove? Nothing at all. On the contrary, one ought to +distrust him. And besides, Gresham rode Lusignan; well then, let them jolly +well dry up! Gresham had bad luck; he would never get to the post. +</p> + +<p> +And from one end of the field to the other the discussion raging in +Nana’s landau seemed to spread and increase. Voices were raised in a +scream; the passion for gambling filled the air, set faces glowing and arms +waving excitedly, while the bookmakers, perched on their conveyances, shouted +odds and jotted down amounts right furiously. Yet these were only the small fry +of the betting world; the big bets were made in the weighing enclosure. Here, +then, raged the keen contest of people with light purses who risked their +five-franc pieces and displayed infinite covetousness for the sake of a +possible gain of a few louis. In a word, the battle would be between Spirit and +Lusignan. Englishmen, plainly recognizable as such, were strolling about among +the various groups. They were quite at home; their faces were fiery with +excitement; they were afready triumphant. Bramah, a horse belonging to Lord +Reading, had gained the Grand Prix the previous year, and this had been a +defeat over which hearts were still bleeding. This year it would be terrible if +France were beaten anew. Accordingly all the ladies were wild with national +pride. The Vandeuvres stable became the rampart of their honor, and Lusignan +was pushed and defended and applauded exceedingly. Gaga, Blanche, Caroline and +the rest betted on Lusignan. Lucy Stewart abstained from this on account of her +son, but it was bruited abroad that Rose Mignon had commissioned Labordette to +risk two hundred louis for her. The Tricon, as she sat alone next her driver, +waited till the last moment. Very cool, indeed, amid all these disputes, very +far above the ever-increasing uproar in which horses’ names kept +recurring and lively Parisian phrases mingled with guttural English +exclamations, she sat listening and taking notes majestically. +</p> + +<p> +“And Nana?” said Georges. “Does no one want her?” +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, nobody was asking for the filly; she was not even being mentioned. The +outsider of the Vandeuvres’s stud was swamped by Lusignan’s +popularity. But La Faloise flung his arms up, crying: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve an inspiration. I’ll bet a louis on Nana.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo! I bet a couple,” said Georges. +</p> + +<p> +“And I three,” added Philippe. +</p> + +<p> +And they mounted up and up, bidding against one another good-humoredly and +naming prices as though they had been haggling over Nana at an auction. La +Faloise said he would cover her with gold. Besides, everybody was to be made to +back her; they would go and pick up backers. But as the three young men were +darting off to propagandize, Nana shouted after them: +</p> + +<p> +“You know I don’t want to have anything to do with her; I +don’t for the world! Georges, ten louis on Lusignan and five on Valerio +II.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile they had started fairly off, and she watched them gaily as they +slipped between wheels, ducked under horses’ heads and scoured the whole +field. The moment they recognized anyone in a carriage they rushed up and urged +Nana’s claims. And there were great bursts of laughter among the crowd +when sometimes they turned back, triumphantly signaling amounts with their +fingers, while the young woman stood and waved her sunshade. Nevertheless, they +made poor enough work of it. Some men let themselves be persuaded; Steiner, for +instance, ventured three louis, for the sight of Nana stirred him. But the +women refused point-blank. “Thanks,” they said; “to lose for +a certainty!” Besides, they were in no hurry to work for the benefit of a +dirty wench who was overwhelming them all with her four white horses, her +postilions and her outrageous assumption of side. Gaga and Clarisse looked +exceedingly prim and asked La Faloise whether he was jolly well making fun of +them. When Georges boldly presented himself before the Mignons’ carriage +Rose turned her head away in the most marked manner and did not answer him. One +must be a pretty foul sort to let one’s name be given to a horse! Mignon, +on the contrary, followed the young man’s movements with a look of +amusement and declared that the women always brought luck. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” queried Nana when the young men returned after a prolonged +visit to the bookmakers. +</p> + +<p> +“The odds are forty to one against you,” said La Faloise. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that? Forty to one!” she cried, astounded. +“They were fifty to one against me. What’s happened?” +</p> + +<p> +Labordette had just then reappeared. The course was being cleared, and the +pealing of a bell announced the first race. Amid the expectant murmur of the +bystanders she questioned him about this sudden rise in her value. But he +replied evasively; doubtless a demand for her had arisen. She had to content +herself with this explanation. Moreover, Labordette announced with a +preoccupied expression that Vandeuvres was coming if he could get away. +</p> + +<p> +The race was ending unnoticed; people were all waiting for the Grand Prix to be +run—when a storm burst over the Hippodrome. For some minutes past the sun +had disappeared, and a wan twilight had darkened over the multitude. Then the +wind rose, and there ensued a sudden deluge. Huge drops, perfect sheets of +water, fell. There was a momentary confusion, and people shouted and joked and +swore, while those on foot scampered madly off to find refuge under the canvas +of the drinking booths. In the carriages the women did their best to shelter +themselves, grasping their sunshades with both hands, while the bewildered +footmen ran to the hoods. But the shower was already nearly over, and the sun +began shining brilliantly through escaping clouds of fine rain. A blue cleft +opened in the stormy mass, which was blown off over the Bois, and the skies +seemed to smile again and to set the women laughing in a reassured manner, +while amid the snorting of horses and the disarray and agitation of the +drenched multitude that was shaking itself dry a broad flush of golden light +lit up the field, still dripping and glittering with crystal drops. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that poor, dear Louiset!” said Nana. “Are you very +drenched, my darling?” +</p> + +<p> +The little thing silently allowed his hands to be wiped. The young woman had +taken out her handkerchief. Then she dabbed it over Bijou, who was trembling +more violently than ever. It would not matter in the least; there were a few +drops on the white satin of her dress, but she didn’t care a pin for +them. The bouquets, refreshed by the rain, glowed like snow, and she smelled +one ecstatically, drenching her lips in it as though it were wet with dew. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the burst of rain had suddenly filled the stands. Nana looked at them +through her field glasses. At that distance you could only distinguish a +compact, confused mass of people, heaped up, as it were, on the ascending +ranges of steps, a dark background relieved by light dots which were human +faces. The sunlight filtered in through openings near the roof at each end of +the stand and detached and illumined portions of the seated multitude, where +the ladies’ dresses seemed to lose their distinguishing colors. But Nana +was especially amused by the ladies whom the shower had driven from the rows of +chairs ranged on the sand at the base of the stands. As courtesans were +absolutely forbidden to enter the enclosure, she began making exceedingly +bitter remarks about all the fashionable women therein assembled. She thought +them fearfully dressed up, and such guys! +</p> + +<p> +There was a rumor that the empress was entering the little central stand, a +pavilion built like a chalet, with a wide balcony furnished with red armchairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, there he is!” said Georges. “I didn’t think he +was on duty this week.” +</p> + +<p> +The stiff and solemn form of the Count Muffat had appeared behind the empress. +Thereupon the young men jested and were sorry that Satin wasn’t there to +go and dig him in the ribs. But Nana’s field glass focused the head of +the Prince of Scots in the imperial stand. +</p> + +<p> +“Gracious, it’s Charles!” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +She thought him stouter than formerly. In eighteen months he had broadened, and +with that she entered into particulars. Oh yes, he was a big, solidly built +fellow! +</p> + +<p> +All round her in the ladies’ carriages they were whispering that the +count had given her up. It was quite a long story. Since he had been making +himself noticeable, the Tuileries had grown scandalized at the +chamberlain’s conduct. Whereupon, in order to retain his position, he had +recently broken it off with Nana. La Faloise bluntly reported this account of +matters to the young woman and, addressing her as his Juliet, again offered +himself. But she laughed merrily and remarked: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s idiotic! You won’t know him; I’ve only to say, +‘Come here,’ for him to chuck up everything.” +</p> + +<p> +For some seconds past she had been examining the Countess Sabine and Estelle. +Daguenet was still at their side. Fauchery had just arrived and was disturbing +the people round him in his desire to make his bow to them. He, too, stayed +smilingly beside them. After that Nana pointed with disdainful action at the +stands and continued: +</p> + +<p> +“Then, you know, those people don’t fetch me any longer now! I know +’em too well. You should see ’em behind scenes. No more honor! +It’s all up with honor! Filth belowstairs, filth abovestairs, filth +everywhere. That’s why I won’t be bothered about ’em!” +</p> + +<p> +And with a comprehensive gesture she took in everybody, from the grooms leading +the horses on to the course to the sovereign lady busy chatting with with +Charles, a prince and a dirty fellow to boot. +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo, Nana! Awfully smart, Nana!” cried La Faloise +enthusiastically. +</p> + +<p> +The tolling of a bell was lost in the wind; the races continued. The Prix +d’Ispahan had just been run for and Berlingot, a horse belonging to the +Mechain stable, had won. Nana recalled Labordette in order to obtain news of +the hundred louis, but he burst out laughing and refused to let her know the +horses he had chosen for her, so as not to disturb the luck, as he phrased it. +Her money was well placed; she would see that all in good time. And when she +confessed her bets to him and told him how she had put ten louis on Lusignan +and five on Valerio II, he shrugged his shoulders, as who should say that women +did stupid things whatever happened. His action surprised her; she was quite at +sea. +</p> + +<p> +Just then the field grew more animated than before. Open-air lunches were +arranged in the interval before the Grand Prix. There was much eating and more +drinking in all directions, on the grass, on the high seats of the +four-in-hands and mail coaches, in the victorias, the broughams, the landaus. +There was a universal spread of cold viands and a fine disorderly display of +champagne baskets which footmen kept handing down out of the coach boots. Corks +came out with feeble pops, which the wind drowned. There was an interchange of +jests, and the sound of breaking glasses imparted a note of discord to the +high-strung gaiety of the scene. Gaga and Clarisse, together with Blanche, were +making a serious repast, for they were eating sandwiches on the carriage rug +with which they had been covering their knees. Louise Violaine had got down +from her basket carriage and had joined Caroline Hequet. On the turf at their +feet some gentlemen had instituted a drinking bar, whither Tatan, Maria, +Simonne and the rest came to refresh themselves, while high in air and close at +hand bottles were being emptied on Léa de Horn’s mail coach, and, with +infinite bravado and gesticulation, a whole band were making themselves tipsy +in the sunshine, above the heads of the crowd. Soon, however, there was an +especially large crowd by Nana’s landau. She had risen to her feet and +had set herself to pour out glasses of champagne for the men who came to pay +her their respects. Francois, one of the footmen, was passing up the bottles +while La Faloise, trying hard to imitate a coster’s accents, kept +pattering away: +</p> + +<p> +“’Ere y’re, given away, given away! There’s some for +everybody!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do be still, dear boy,” Nana ended by saying. “We look like +a set of tumblers.” +</p> + +<p> +She thought him very droll and was greatly entertained. At one moment she +conceived the idea of sending Georges with a glass of champagne to Rose Mignon, +who was affecting temperance. Henri and Charles were bored to distraction; they +would have been glad of some champagne, the poor little fellows. But Georges +drank the glassful, for he feared an argument. Then Nana remembered Louiset, +who was sitting forgotten behind her. Maybe he was thirsty, and she forced him +to take a drop or two of wine, which made him cough dreadfully. +</p> + +<p> +“’Ere y’are, ’ere y’are, gemmen!” La +Faloise reiterated. “It don’t cost two sous; it don’t cost +one. We give it away.” +</p> + +<p> +But Nana broke in with an exclamation: +</p> + +<p> +“Gracious, there’s Bordenave down there! Call him. Oh, run, please, +please do!” +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed Bordenave. He was strolling about with his hands behind his back, +wearing a hat that looked rusty in the sunlight and a greasy frock coat that +was glossy at the seams. It was Bordenave shattered by bankruptcy, yet furious +despite all reverses, a Bordenave who flaunted his misery among all the fine +folks with the hardihood becoming a man ever ready to take Dame Fortune by +storm. +</p> + +<p> +“The deuce, how smart we are!” he said when Nana extended her hand +to him like the good-natured wench she was. +</p> + +<p> +Presently, after emptying a glass of champagne, he gave vent to the following +profoundly regretful phrase: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, if only I were a woman! But, by God, that’s nothing! Would you +like to go on the stage again? I’ve a notion: I’ll hire the Gaîté, +and we’ll gobble up Paris between us. You certainly owe it me, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +And he lingered, grumbling, beside her, though glad to see her again; for, he +said, that confounded Nana was balm to his feelings. Yes, it was balm to them +merely to exist in her presence! She was his daughter; she was blood of his +blood! +</p> + +<p> +The circle increased, for now La Faloise was filling glasses, and Georges and +Philippe were picking up friends. A stealthy impulse was gradually bringing in +the whole field. Nana would fling everyone a laughing smile or an amusing +phrase. The groups of tipplers were drawing near, and all the champagne +scattered over the place was moving in her direction. Soon there was only one +noisy crowd, and that was round her landau, where she queened it among +outstretched glasses, her yellow hair floating on the breeze and her snowy face +bathed in the sunshine. Then by way of a finishing touch and to make the other +women, who were mad at her triumph, simply perish of envy, she lifted a +brimming glass on high and assumed her old pose as Venus Victrix. +</p> + +<p> +But somebody touched her shoulder, and she was surprised, on turning round, to +see Mignon on the seat. She vanished from view an instant and sat herself down +beside him, for he had come to communicate a matter of importance. Mignon had +everywhere declared that it was ridiculous of his wife to bear Nana a grudge; +he thought her attitude stupid and useless. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, my dear,” he whispered. “Be careful: don’t +madden Rose too much. You understand, I think it best to warn you. Yes, +she’s got a weapon in store, and as she’s never forgiven you the +Petite Duchesse business—” +</p> + +<p> +“A weapon,” said Nana; “what’s that blooming well got +to do with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just listen: it’s a letter she must have found in Fauchery’s +pocket, a letter written to that screw Fauchery by the Countess Muffat. And, by +Jove, it’s clear the whole story’s in it. Well then, Rose wants to +send the letter to the count so as to be revenged on him and on you.” +</p> + +<p> +“What the deuce has that got to do with me?” Nana repeated. +“It’s a funny business. So the whole story about Fauchery’s +in it! Very well, so much the better; the woman has been exasperating me! We +shall have a good laugh!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t wish it,” Mignon briskly rejoined. +“There’ll be a pretty scandal! Besides, we’ve got nothing to +gain.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused, fearing lest he should say too much, while she loudly averred that +she was most certainly not going to get a chaste woman into trouble. +</p> + +<p> +But when he still insisted on his refusal she looked steadily at him. Doubtless +he was afraid of seeing Fauchery again introduced into his family in case he +broke with the countess. While avenging her own wrongs, Rose was anxious for +that to happen, since she still felt a kindness toward the journalist. And Nana +waxed meditative and thought of M. Venot’s call, and a plan began to take +shape in her brain, while Mignon was doing his best to talk her over. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s suppose that Rose sends the letter, eh? There’s food +for scandal: you’re mixed up in the business, and people say you’re +the cause of it all. Then to begin with, the count separates from his +wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should he?” she said. “On the contrary—” +</p> + +<p> +She broke off, in her turn. There was no need for her to think aloud. So in +order to be rid of Mignon she looked as though she entered into his view of the +case, and when he advised her to give Rose some proof of her +submission—to pay her a short visit on the racecourse, for instance, +where everybody would see her—she replied that she would see about it, +that she would think the matter over. +</p> + +<p> +A commotion caused her to stand up again. On the course the horses were coming +in amid a sudden blast of wind. The prize given by the city of Paris had just +been run for, and Cornemuse had gained it. Now the Grand Prix was about to be +run, and the fever of the crowd increased, and they were tortured by anxiety +and stamped and swayed as though they wanted to make the minutes fly faster. At +this ultimate moment the betting world was surprised and startled by the +continued shortening of the odds against Nana, the outsider of the Vandeuvres +stables. Gentlemen kept returning every few moments with a new quotation: the +betting was thirty to one against Nana; it was twenty-five to one against Nana, +then twenty to one, then fifteen to one. No one could understand it. A filly +beaten on all the racecourses! A filly which that same morning no single +sportsman would take at fifty to one against! What did this sudden madness +betoken? Some laughed at it and spoke of the pretty doing awaiting the duffers +who were being taken in by the joke. Others looked serious and uneasy and +sniffed out something ugly under it all. Perhaps there was a “deal” +in the offing. Allusion was made to well-known stories about the robberies +which are winked at on racecourses, but on this occasion the great name of +Vandeuvres put a stop to all such accusations, and the skeptics in the end +prevailed when they prophesied that Nana would come in last of all. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s riding Nana?” queried La Faloise. +</p> + +<p> +Just then the real Nana reappeared, whereat the gentlemen lent his question an +indecent meaning and burst into an uproarious fit of laughter. Nana bowed. +</p> + +<p> +“Price is up,” she replied. +</p> + +<p> +And with that the discussion began again. Price was an English celebrity. Why +had Vandeuvres got this jockey to come over, seeing that Gresham ordinarily +rode Nana? Besides, they were astonished to see him confiding Lusignan to this +man Gresham, who, according to La Faloise, never got a place. But all these +remarks were swallowed up in jokes, contradictions and an extraordinarily noisy +confusion of opinions. In order to kill time the company once more set +themselves to drain bottles of champagne. Presently a whisper ran round, and +the different groups opened outward. It was Vandeuvres. Nana affected vexation. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, you’re a nice fellow to come at this time of day! Why, +I’m burning to see the enclosure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, come along then,” he said; “there’s still time. +You’ll take a stroll round with me. I just happen to have a permit for a +lady about me.” +</p> + +<p> +And he led her off on his arm while she enjoyed the jealous glances with which +Lucy, Caroline and the others followed her. The young Hugons and La Faloise +remained in the landau behind her retreating figure and continued to do the +honors of her champagne. She shouted to them that she would return immediately. +</p> + +<p> +But Vandeuvres caught sight of Labordette and called him, and there was an +interchange of brief sentences. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve scraped everything up?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“To what amount?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fifteen hundred louis—pretty well all over the place.” +</p> + +<p> +As Nana was visibly listening, and that with much curiosity, they held their +tongues. Vandeuvres was very nervous, and he had those same clear eyes, shot +with little flames, which so frightened her the night he spoke of burning +himself and his horses together. As they crossed over the course she spoke low +and familiarly. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, do explain this to me. Why are the odds on your filly +changing?” +</p> + +<p> +He trembled, and this sentence escaped him: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, they’re talking, are they? What a set those betting men are! +When I’ve got the favorite they all throw themselves upon him, and +there’s no chance for me. After that, when an outsider’s asked for, +they give tongue and yell as though they were being skinned.” +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to tell me what’s going to happen—I’ve made +my bets,” she rejoined. “Has Nana a chance?” +</p> + +<p> +A sudden, unreasonable burst of anger overpowered him. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you deuced well let me be, eh? Every horse has a chance. The +odds are shortening because, by Jove, people have taken the horse. Who, I +don’t know. I should prefer leaving you if you must needs badger me with +your idiotic questions.” +</p> + +<p> +Such a tone was not germane either to his temperament or his habits, and Nana +was rather surprised than wounded. Besides, he was ashamed of himself directly +afterward, and when she begged him in a dry voice to behave politely he +apologized. For some time past he had suffered from such sudden changes of +temper. No one in the Paris of pleasure or of society was ignorant of the fact +that he was playing his last trump card today. If his horses did not win, if, +moreover, they lost him the considerable sums wagered upon them, it would mean +utter disaster and collapse for him, and the bulwark of his credit and the +lofty appearance which, though undermined, he still kept up, would come ruining +noisily down. Moreover, no one was ignorant of the fact that Nana was the +devouring siren who had finished him off, who had been the last to attack his +crumbling fortunes and to sweep up what remained of them. Stories were told of +wild whims and fancies, of gold scattered to the four winds, of a visit to +Baden-Baden, where she had not left him enough to pay the hotel bill, of a +handful of diamonds cast on the fire during an evening of drunkenness in order +to see whether they would burn like coal. Little by little her great limbs and +her coarse, plebeian way of laughing had gained complete mastery over this +elegant, degenerate son of an ancient race. At that time he was risking his +all, for he had been so utterly overpowered by his taste for ordure and +stupidity as to have even lost the vigor of his skepticism. A week before Nana +had made him promise her a château on the Norman coast between Havre and +Trouville, and now he was staking the very foundations of his honor on the +fulfillment of his word. Only she was getting on his nerves, and he could have +beaten her, so stupid did he feel her to be. +</p> + +<p> +The man at the gate, not daring to stop the woman hanging on the count’s +arm, had allowed them to enter the enclosure. Nana, greatly puffed up at the +thought that at last she was setting foot on the forbidden ground, put on her +best behavior and walked slowly by the ladies seated at the foot of the stands. +On ten rows of chairs the toilets were densely massed, and in the blithe open +air their bright colors mingled harmoniously. Chairs were scattered about, and +as people met one another friendly circles were formed, just as though the +company had been sitting under the trees in a public garden. Children had been +allowed to go free and were running from group to group, while over head the +stands rose tier above crowded tier and the light-colored dresses therein faded +into the delicate shadows of the timberwork. Nana stared at all these ladies. +She stared steadily and markedly at the Countess Sabine. After which, as she +was passing in front of the imperial stand, the sight of Muffat, looming in all +his official stiffness by the side of the empress, made her very merry. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how silly he looks!” she said at the top of her voice to +Vandeuvres. She was anxious to pay everything a visit. This small parklike +region, with its green lawns and groups of trees, rather charmed her than +otherwise. A vendor of ices had set up a large buffet near the entrance gates, +and beneath a rustic thatched roof a dense throng of people were shouting and +gesticulating. This was the ring. Close by were some empty stalls, and Nana was +disappointed at discovering only a gendarme’s horse there. Then there was +the paddock, a small course some hundred meters in circumference, where a +stable help was walking about Valerio II in his horsecloths. And, oh, what a +lot of men on the graveled sidewalks, all of them with their tickets forming an +orange-colored patch in their bottonholes! And what a continual parade of +people in the open galleries of the grandstands! The scene interested her for a +moment or two, but truly, it was not worth while getting the spleen because +they didn’t admit you inside here. +</p> + +<p> +Daguenet and Fauchery passed by and bowed to her. She made them a sign, and +they had to come up. Thereupon she made hay of the weighing-in enclosure. But +she broke off abruptly: +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, there’s the Marquis de Chouard! How old he’s +growing! That old man’s killing himself! Is he still as mad about it as +ever?” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon Daguenet described the old man’s last brilliant stroke. The +story dated from the day before yesterday, and no one knew it as yet. After +dangling about for months he had bought her daughter Amelie from Gaga for +thirty thousand francs, they said. +</p> + +<p> +“Good gracious! That’s a nice business!” cried Nana in +disgust. “Go in for the regular thing, please! But now that I come to +think of it, that must be Lili down there on the grass with a lady in a +brougham. I recognized the face. The old boy will have brought her out.” +</p> + +<p> +Vandeuvres was not listening; he was impatient and longed to get rid of her. +But Fauchery having remarked at parting that if she had not seen the bookmakers +she had seen nothing, the count was obliged to take her to them in spite of his +obvious repugnance. And she was perfectly happy at once; that truly was a +curious sight, she said! +</p> + +<p> +Amid lawns bordered by young horse-chestnut trees there was a round open +enclosure, where, forming a vast circle under the shadow of the tender green +leaves, a dense line of bookmakers was waiting for betting men, as though they +had been hucksters at a fair. In order to overtop and command the surrounding +crowd they had taken up positions on wooden benches, and they were advertising +their prices on the trees beside them. They had an ever-vigilant glance, and +they booked wagers in answer to a single sign, a mere wink, so rapidly that +certain curious onlookers watched them openmouthed, without being able to +understand it all. Confusion reigned; prices were shouted, and any unexpected +change in a quotation was received with something like tumult. Occasionally +scouts entered the place at a run and redoubled the uproar as they stopped at +the entrance to the rotunda and, at the tops of their voices, announced +departures and arrivals. In this place, where the gambling fever was pulsing in +the sunshine, such announcements were sure to raise a prolonged muttering +sound. +</p> + +<p> +“They ARE funny!” murmured Nana, greatly entertained. +</p> + +<p> +“Their features look as if they had been put on the wrong way. Just you +see that big fellow there; I shouldn’t care to meet him all alone in the +middle of a wood.” +</p> + +<p> +But Vandeuvres pointed her out a bookmaker, once a shopman in a fancy +repository, who had made three million francs in two years. He was slight of +build, delicate and fair, and people all round him treated him with great +respect. They smiled when they addressed him, while others took up positions +close by in order to catch a glimpse of him. +</p> + +<p> +They were at length leaving the ring when Vandeuvres nodded slightly to another +bookmaker, who thereupon ventured to call him. It was one of his former +coachmen, an enormous fellow with the shoulders of an ox and a high color. Now +that he was trying his fortunes at race meetings on the strength of some +mysteriously obtained capital, the count was doing his utmost to push him, +confiding to him his secret bets and treating him on all occasions as a servant +to whom one shows one’s true character. Yet despite this protection, the +man had in rapid succession lost very heavy sums, and today he, too, was +playing his last card. There was blood in his eyes; he looked fit to drop with +apoplexy. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Marechal,” queried the count in the lowest of voices, +“to what amount have you laid odds?” +</p> + +<p> +“To five thousand louis, Monsieur le Comte,” replied the bookmaker, +likewise lowering his voice. “A pretty job, eh? I’ll confess to you +that I’ve increased the odds; I’ve made it three to one.” +</p> + +<p> +Vandeuvres looked very much put out. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, I don’t want you to do that. Put it at two to one again +directly. I shan’t tell you any more, Marechal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how can it hurt, Monsieur le Comte, at this time o’ +day?” rejoined the other with the humble smile befitting an accomplice. +“I had to attract the people so as to lay your two thousand louis.” +</p> + +<p> +At this Vandeuvres silenced him. But as he was going off Marechal remembered +something and was sorry he had not questioned him about the shortening of the +odds on the filly. It would be a nice business for him if the filly stood a +chance, seeing that he had just laid fifty to one about her in two hundreds. +</p> + +<p> +Nana, though she did not understand a word of what the count was whispering, +dared not, however, ask for new explanations. He seemed more nervous than +before and abruptly handed her over to Labordette, whom they came upon in front +of the weighing-in room. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll take her back,” he said. “I’ve got +something on hand. Au revoir!” +</p> + +<p> +And he entered the room, which was narrow and low-pitched and half filled with +a great pair of scales. It was like a waiting room in a suburban station, and +Nana was again hugely disillusioned, for she had been picturing to herself +something on a very vast scale, a monumental machine, in fact, for weighing +horses. Dear me, they only weighed the jockeys! Then it wasn’t worth +while making such a fuss with their weighing! In the scale a jockey with an +idiotic expression was waiting, harness on knee, till a stout man in a frock +coat should have done verifying his weight. At the door a stable help was +holding a horse, Cosinus, round which a silent and deeply interested throng was +clustering. +</p> + +<p> +The course was about to be cleared. Labordette hurried Nana but retraced his +steps in order to show her a little man talking with Vandeuvres at some +distance from the rest. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, there’s Price!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah yes, the man who’s mounting me,” she murmured laughingly. +</p> + +<p> +And she declared him to be exquisitely ugly. All jockeys struck her as looking +idiotic, doubtless, she said, because they were prevented from growing bigger. +This particular jockey was a man of forty, and with his long, thin, deeply +furrowed, hard, dead countenance, he looked like an old shriveled-up child. His +body was knotty and so reduced in size that his blue jacket with its white +sleeves looked as if it had been thrown over a lay figure. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she resumed as she walked away, “he would never make me +very happy, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +A mob of people were still crowding the course, the turf of which had been wet +and trampled on till it had grown black. In front of the two telegraphs, which +hung very high up on their cast-iron pillars, the crowd were jostling together +with upturned faces, uproariously greeting the numbers of the different horses +as an electric wire in connection with the weighing room made them appear. +Gentlemen were pointing at programs: Pichenette had been scratched by his +owner, and this caused some noise. However, Nana did not do more than cross +over the course on Labordette’s arm. The bell hanging on the flagstaff +was ringing persistently to warn people to leave the course. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my little dears,” she said as she got up into her landau +again, “their enclosure’s all humbug!” +</p> + +<p> +She was welcomed with acclamation; people around her clapped their hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo, Nana! Nana’s ours again!” +</p> + +<p> +What idiots they were, to be sure! Did they think she was the sort to cut old +friends? She had come back just at the auspicious moment. Now then, +’tenshun! The race was beginning! And the champagne was accordingly +forgotten, and everyone left off drinking. +</p> + +<p> +But Nana was astonished to find Gaga in her carriage, sitting with Bijou and +Louiset on her knees. Gaga had indeed decided on this course of action in order +to be near La Faloise, but she told Nana that she had been anxious to kiss +Baby. She adored children. +</p> + +<p> +“By the by, what about Lili?” asked Nana. “That’s +certainly she over there in that old fellow’s brougham. They’ve +just told me something very nice!” +</p> + +<p> +Gaga had adopted a lachrymose expression. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, it’s made me ill,” she said dolorously. +“Yesterday I had to keep my bed, I cried so, and today I didn’t +think I should be able to come. You know what my opinions were, don’t +you? I didn’t desire that kind of thing at all. I had her educated in a +convent with a view to a good marriage. And then to think of the strict advice +she had and the constant watching! Well, my dear, it was she who wished it. We +had such a scene—tears—disagreeable speeches! It even got to such a +point that I caught her a box on the ear. She was too much bored by existence, +she said; she wanted to get out of it. By and by, when she began to say, +‘’Tisn’t you, after all, who’ve got the right to +prevent me,’ I said to her: ‘you’re a miserable wretch; +you’re bringing dishonor upon us. Begone!’ And it was done. I +consented to arrange about it. But my last hope’s blooming well blasted, +and, oh, I used to dream about such nice things!” +</p> + +<p> +The noise of a quarrel caused them to rise. It was Georges in the act of +defending Vandeuvres against certain vague rumors which were circulating among +the various groups. +</p> + +<p> +“Why should you say that he’s laying off his own horse?” the +young man was exclaiming. “Yesterday in the Salon des Courses he took the +odds on Lusignan for a thousand louis.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I was there,” said Philippe in affirmation of this. +“And he didn’t put a single louis on Nana. If the betting’s +ten to one against Nana he’s got nothing to win there. It’s absurd +to imagine people are so calculating. Where would his interest come in?” +</p> + +<p> +Labordette was listening with a quiet expression. Shrugging his shoulders, he +said: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, leave them alone; they must have their say. The count has again laid +at least as much as five hundred louis on Lusignan, and if he’s wanted +Nana to run to a hundred louis it’s because an owner ought always to look +as if he believes in his horses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, bosh! What the deuce does that matter to us?” shouted La +Faloise with a wave of his arms. “Spirit’s going to win! Down with +France—bravo, England!” +</p> + +<p> +A long shiver ran through the crowd, while a fresh peal from the bell announced +the arrival of the horses upon the racecourse. At this Nana got up and stood on +one of the seats of her carriage so as to obtain a better view, and in so doing +she trampled the bouquets of roses and myosotis underfoot. With a sweeping +glance she took in the wide, vast horizon. At this last feverish moment the +course was empty and closed by gray barriers, between the posts of which stood +a line of policemen. The strip of grass which lay muddy in front of her grew +brighter as it stretched away and turned into a tender green carpet in the +distance. In the middle landscape, as she lowered her eyes, she saw the field +swarming with vast numbers of people, some on tiptoe, others perched on +carriages, and all heaving and jostling in sudden passionate excitement. +</p> + +<p> +Horses were neighing; tent canvases flapped, while equestrians urged their +hacks forward amid a crowd of pedestrians rushing to get places along the +barriers. When Nana turned in the direction of the stands on the other side the +faces seemed diminished, and the dense masses of heads were only a confused and +motley array, filling gangways, steps and terraces and looming in deep, dark, +serried lines against the sky. And beyond these again she over looked the plain +surrounding the course. Behind the ivy-clad mill to the right, meadows, dotted +over with great patches of umbrageous wood, stretched away into the distance, +while opposite to her, as far as the Seine flowing at the foot of a hill, the +avenues of the park intersected one another, filled at that moment with long, +motionless files of waiting carriages; and in the direction of Boulogne, on the +left, the landscape widened anew and opened out toward the blue distances of +Meudon through an avenue of paulownias, whose rosy, leafless tops were one +stain of brilliant lake color. People were still arriving, and a long +procession of human ants kept coming along the narrow ribbon of road which +crossed the distance, while very far away, on the Paris side, the nonpaying +public, herding like sheep among the wood, loomed in a moving line of little +dark spots under the trees on the skirts of the Bois. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly a cheering influence warmed the hundred thousand souls who covered +this part of the plain like insects swarming madly under the vast expanse of +heaven. The sun, which had been hidden for about a quarter of an hour, made his +appearance again and shone out amid a perfect sea of light. And everything +flamed afresh: the women’s sunshades turned into countless golden targets +above the heads of the crowd. The sun was applauded, saluted with bursts of +laughter. And people stretched their arms out as though to brush apart the +clouds. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile a solitary police officer advanced down the middle of the deserted +racecourse, while higher up, on the left, a man appeared with a red flag in his +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the starter, the Baron de Mauriac,” said Labordette in +reply to a question from Nana. All round the young woman exclamations were +bursting from the men who were pressing to her very carriage step. They kept up +a disconnected conversation, jerking out phrases under the immediate influence +of passing impressions. Indeed, Philippe and Georges, Bordenave and La Faloise, +could not be quiet. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t shove! Let me see! Ah, the judge is getting into his box. +D’you say it’s Monsieur de Souvigny? You must have good +eyesight—eh?—to be able to tell what half a head is out of a +fakement like that! Do hold your tongue—the banner’s going up. Here +they are—’tenshun! Cosinus is the first!” +</p> + +<p> +A red and yellow banner was flapping in mid-air at the top of a mast. The +horses came on the course one by one; they were led by stableboys, and the +jockeys were sitting idle-handed in the saddles, the sunlight making them look +like bright dabs of color. After Cosinus appeared Hazard and Boum. Presently a +murmur of approval greeted Spirit, a magnificent big brown bay, the harsh +citron color and black of whose jockey were cheerlessly Britannic. Valerio II +scored a success as he came in; he was small and very lively, and his colors +were soft green bordered with pink. The two Vandeuvres horses were slow to make +their appearance, but at last, in Frangipane’s rear, the blue and white +showed themselves. But Lusignan, a very dark bay of irreproachable shape, was +almost forgotten amid the astonishment caused by Nana. People had not seen her +looking like this before, for now the sudden sunlight was dyeing the chestnut +filly the brilliant color of a girl’s red-gold hair. She was shining in +the light like a new gold coin; her chest was deep; her head and neck tapered +lightly from the delicate, high-strung line of her long back. +</p> + +<p> +“Gracious, she’s got my hair!” cried Nana in an ecstasy. +“You bet you know I’m proud of it!” +</p> + +<p> +The men clambered up on the landau, and Bordenave narrowly escaped putting his +foot on Louiset, whom his mother had forgotten. He took him up with an outburst +of paternal grumbling and hoisted him on his shoulder, muttering at the same +time: +</p> + +<p> +“The poor little brat, he must be in it too! Wait a bit, I’ll show +you Mamma. Eh? Look at Mummy out there.” +</p> + +<p> +And as Bijou was scratching his legs, he took charge of him, too, while Nana, +rejoicing in the brute that bore her name, glanced round at the other women to +see how they took it. They were all raging madly. Just then on the summit of +her cab the Tricon, who had not moved till that moment, began waving her hand +and giving her bookmaker her orders above the heads of the crowd. Her instinct +had at last prompted her; she was backing Nana. +</p> + +<p> +La Faloise meanwhile was making an insufferable noise. He was getting wild over +Frangipane. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve an inspiration,” he kept shouting. “Just look at +Frangipane. What an action, eh? I back Frangipane at eight to one. Who’ll +take me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do keep quiet now,” said Labordette at last. “You’ll +be sorry for it if you do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Frangipane’s a screw,” Philippe declared. “He’s +been utterly blown upon already. You’ll see the canter.” +</p> + +<p> +The horses had gone up to the right, and they now started for the preliminary +canter, passing in loose order before the stands. Thereupon there was a +passionate fresh burst of talk, and people all spoke at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Lusignan’s too long in the back, but he’s very fit. Not a +cent, I tell you, on Valerio II; he’s nervous—gallops with his head +up—it’s a bad sign. Jove! Burne’s riding Spirit. I tell you, +he’s got no shoulders. A well-made shoulder—that’s the whole +secret. No, decidedly, Spirit’s too quiet. Now listen, Nana, I saw her +after the Grande Poule des Produits, and she was dripping and draggled, and her +sides were trembling like one o’clock. I lay twenty louis she isn’t +placed! Oh, shut up! He’s boring us with his Frangipane. There’s no +time to make a bet now; there, they’re off!” +</p> + +<p> +Almost in tears, La Faloise was struggling to find a bookmaker. He had to be +reasoned with. Everyone craned forward, but the first go-off was bad, the +starter, who looked in the distance like a slim dash of blackness, not having +lowered his flag. The horses came back to their places after galloping a moment +or two. There were two more false starts. At length the starter got the horses +together and sent them away with such address as to elicit shouts of applause. +</p> + +<p> +“Splendid! No, it was mere chance! Never mind—it’s done +it!” +</p> + +<p> +The outcries were smothered by the anxiety which tortured every breast. The +betting stopped now, and the game was being played on the vast course itself. +Silence reigned at the outset, as though everyone were holding his breath. +White faces and trembling forms were stretched forward in all directions. At +first Hazard and Cosinus made the running at the head of the rest; Valerio II +followed close by, and the field came on in a confused mass behind. When they +passed in front of the stands, thundering over the ground in their course like +a sudden stormwind, the mass was already some fourteen lengths in extent. +Frangipane was last, and Nana was slightly behind Lusignan and Spirit. +</p> + +<p> +“Egad!” muttered Labordette, “how the Englishman is pulling +it off out there!” +</p> + +<p> +The whole carriageload again burst out with phrases and exclamations. Everyone +rose on tiptoe and followed the bright splashes of color which were the jockeys +as they rushed through the sunlight. +</p> + +<p> +At the rise Valerio II took the lead, while Cosinus and Hazard lost ground, and +Lusignan and Spirit were running neck and neck with Nana still behind them. +</p> + +<p> +“By jingo, the Englishman’s gained! It’s palpable!” +said Bordenave. “Lusignan’s in difficulties, and Valerio II +can’t stay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it will be a pretty biz if the Englishman wins!” cried +Philippe in an access of patriotic grief. +</p> + +<p> +A feeling of anguish was beginning to choke all that crowded multitude. Another +defeat! And with that a strange ardent prayer, which was almost religious, went +up for Lusignan, while people heaped abuse on Spirit and his dismal mute of a +jockey. Among the crowd scattered over the grass the wind of excitement put up +whole groups of people and set their boot soles flashing in air as they ran. +Horsemen crossed the green at a furious gallop. And Nana, who was slowly +revolving on her own axis, saw beneath her a surging waste of beasts and men, a +sea of heads swayed and stirred all round the course by the whirlwind of the +race, which clove the horizon with the bright lightning flash of the jockeys. +She had been following their movement from behind while the cruppers sped away +and the legs seemed to grow longer as they raced and then diminished till they +looked slender as strands of hair. Now the horses were running at the end of +the course, and she caught a side view of them looking minute and delicate of +outline against the green distances of the Bois. Then suddenly they vanished +behind a great clump of trees growing in the middle of the Hippodrome. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk about it!” cried Georges, who was still full of +hope. “It isn’t over yet. The Englishman’s touched.” +</p> + +<p> +But La Faloise was again seized with contempt for his country and grew +positively outrageous in his applause of Spirit. Bravo! That was right! France +needed it! Spirit first and Frangipane second—that would be a nasty one +for his native land! He exasperated Labordette, who threatened seriously to +throw him off the carriage. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s see how many minutes they’ll be about it,” said +Bordenave peaceably, for though holding up Louiset, he had taken out his watch. +</p> + +<p> +One after the other the horses reappeared from behind the clump of trees. There +was stupefaction; a long murmur arose among the crowd. Valerio II was still +leading, but Spirit was gaining on him, and behind him Lusignan had slackened +while another horse was taking his place. People could not make this out all at +once; they were confused about the colors. Then there was a burst of +exclamations. +</p> + +<p> +“But it’s Nana! Nana? Get along! I tell you Lusignan hasn’t +budged. Dear me, yes, it’s Nana. You can certainly recognize her by her +golden color. D’you see her now? She’s blazing away. Bravo, Nana! +What a ripper she is! Bah, it doesn’t matter a bit: she’s making +the running for Lusignan!” +</p> + +<p> +For some seconds this was everybody’s opinion. But little by little the +filly kept gaining and gaining, spurting hard all the while. Thereupon a vast +wave of feeling passed over the crowd, and the tail of horses in the rear +ceased to interest. A supreme struggle was beginning between Spirit, Nana, +Lusignan and Valerio II. They were pointed out; people estimated what ground +they had gained or lost in disconnected, gasping phrases. And Nana, who had +mounted up on the coach box, as though some power had lifted her thither, stood +white and trembling and so deeply moved as not to be able to speak. At her side +Labordette smiled as of old. +</p> + +<p> +“The Englishman’s in trouble, eh?” said Philippe joyously. +“He’s going badly.” +</p> + +<p> +“In any case, it’s all up with Lusignan,” shouted La Faloise. +“Valerio II is coming forward. Look, there they are all four +together.” +</p> + +<p> +The same phrase was in every mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“What a rush, my dears! By God, what a rush!” +</p> + +<p> +The squad of horses was now passing in front of them like a flash of lightning. +Their approach was perceptible—the breath of it was as a distant +muttering which increased at every second. The whole crowd had thrown +themselves impetuously against the barriers, and a deep clamor issued from +innumerable chests before the advance of the horses and drew nearer and nearer +like the sound of a foaming tide. It was the last fierce outburst of colossal +partisanship; a hundred thousand spectators were possessed by a single passion, +burning with the same gambler’s lust, as they gazed after the beasts, +whose galloping feet were sweeping millions with them. The crowd pushed and +crushed—fists were clenched; people gaped, openmouthed; every man was +fighting for himself; every man with voice and gesture was madly speeding the +horse of his choice. And the cry of all this multitude, a wild beast’s +cry despite the garb of civilization, grew ever more distinct: +</p> + +<p> +“Here they come! Here they come! Here they come!” +</p> + +<p> +But Nana was still gaining ground, and now Valerio II was distanced, and she +was heading the race, with Spirit two or three necks behind. The rolling +thunder of voices had increased. They were coming in; a storm of oaths greeted +them from the landau. +</p> + +<p> +“Gee up, Lusignan, you great coward! The Englishman’s stunning! Do +it again, old boy; do it again! Oh, that Valerio! It’s sickening! Oh, the +carcass! My ten louis damned well lost! Nana’s the only one! Bravo, Nana! +Bravo!” +</p> + +<p> +And without being aware of it Nana, upon her seat, had begun jerking her hips +and waist as though she were racing herself. She kept striking her +side—she fancied it was a help to the filly. With each stroke she sighed +with fatigue and said in low, anguished tones: +</p> + +<p> +“Go it, go it!” +</p> + +<p> +Then a splendid sight was witnessed. Price, rising in his stirrups and +brandishing his whip, flogged Nana with an arm of iron. The old shriveled-up +child with his long, hard, dead face seemed to breath flame. And in a fit of +furious audacity and triumphant will he put his heart into the filly, held her +up, lifted her forward, drenched in foam, with eyes of blood. The whole rush of +horses passed with a roar of thunder: it took away people’s breaths; it +swept the air with it while the judge sat frigidly waiting, his eye adjusted to +its task. Then there was an immense re-echoing burst of acclamation. With a +supreme effort Price had just flung Nana past the post, thus beating Spirit by +a head. +</p> + +<p> +There was an uproar as of a rising tide. “Nana! Nana! Nana!” The +cry rolled up and swelled with the violence of a tempest, till little by little +it filled the distance, the depths of the Bois as far as Mont Valerien, the +meadows of Longchamps and the Plaine de Boulogne. In all parts of the field the +wildest enthusiasm declared itself. “Vive Nana! Vive la France! Down with +England!” The women waved their sunshades; men leaped and spun round, +vociferating as they did so, while others with shouts of nervous laughter threw +their hats in the air. And from the other side of the course the enclosure made +answer; the people on the stands were stirred, though nothing was distinctly +visible save a tremulous motion of the air, as though an invisible flame were +burning in a brazier above the living mass of gesticulating arms and little +wildly moving faces, where the eyes and gaping mouths looked like black dots. +The noise did not cease but swelled up and recommenced in the recesses of +faraway avenues and among the people encamped under the trees, till it spread +on and on and attained its climax in the imperial stand, where the empress +herself had applauded. “Nana! Nana! Nana!” The cry rose heavenward +in the glorious sunlight, whose golden rain beat fiercely on the dizzy heads of +the multitude. +</p> + +<p> +Then Nana, looming large on the seat of her landau, fancied that it was she +whom they were applauding. For a moment or two she had stood devoid of motion, +stupefied by her triumph, gazing at the course as it was invaded by so dense a +flood of people that the turf became invisible beneath the sea of black hats. +By and by, when this crowd had become somewhat less disorderly and a lane had +been formed as far as the exit and Nana was again applauded as she went off +with Price hanging lifelessly and vacantly over her neck, she smacked her thigh +energetically, lost all self-possession, triumphed in crude phrases: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, by God, it’s me; it’s me. Oh, by God, what luck!” +</p> + +<p> +And, scarce knowing how to give expression to her overwhelming joy, she hugged +and kissed Louiset, whom she now discovered high in the air on +Bordenave’s shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Three minutes and fourteen seconds,” said the latter as he put his +watch back in his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +Nana kept hearing her name; the whole plain was echoing it back to her. Her +people were applauding her while she towered above them in the sunlight, in the +splendor of her starry hair and white-and-sky-blue dress. Labordette, as he +made off, had just announced to her a gain of two thousand louis, for he had +put her fifty on Nana at forty to one. But the money stirred her less than this +unforeseen victory, the fame of which made her queen of Paris. All the other +ladies were losers. With a raging movement Rose Mignon had snapped her +sunshade, and Caroline Hequet and Clarisse and Simonne—nay, Lucy Stewart +herself, despite the presence of her son—were swearing low in their +exasperation at that great wench’s luck, while the Tricon, who had made +the sign of the cross at both start and finish, straightened up her tall form +above them, went into an ecstasy over her intuition and damned Nana admiringly +as became an experienced matron. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile round the landau the crush of men increased. The band of Nana’s +immediate followers had made a fierce uproar, and now Georges, choking with +emotion, continued shouting all by himself in breaking tones. As the champagne +had given out, Philippe, taking the footmen with him, had run to the wine bars. +Nana’s court was growing and growing, and her present triumph caused many +loiterers to join her. Indeed, that movement which had made her carriage a +center of attraction to the whole field was now ending in an apotheosis, and +Queen Venus was enthroned amid suddenly maddened subjects. Bordenave, behind +her, was muttering oaths, for he yearned to her as a father. Steiner himself +had been reconquered—he had deserted Simonne and had hoisted himself upon +one of Nana’s carriage steps. When the champagne had arrived, when she +lifted her brimming glass, such applause burst forth, and “Nana! Nana! +Nana!” was so loudly repeated that the crowd looked round in astonishment +for the filly, nor could any tell whether it was the horse or the woman that +filled all hearts. +</p> + +<p> +While this was going on Mignon came hastening up in defiance of Rose’s +terrible frown. That confounded girl simply maddened him, and he wanted to kiss +her. Then after imprinting a paternal salute on both her cheeks: +</p> + +<p> +“What bothers me,” he said, “is that now Rose is certainly +going to send the letter. She’s raging, too, fearfully.” +</p> + +<p> +“So much the better! It’ll do my business for me!” Nana let +slip. +</p> + +<p> +But noting his utter astonishment, she hastily continued: +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, what am I saying? Indeed, I don’t rightly know what +I’m saying now! I’m drunk.” +</p> + +<p> +And drunk, indeed, drunk with joy, drunk with sunshine, she still raised her +glass on high and applauded herself. +</p> + +<p> +“To Nana! To Nana!” she cried amid a redoubled uproar of laughter +and bravoes, which little by little overspread the whole Hippodrome. +</p> + +<p> +The races were ending, and the Prix Vaublanc was run for. Carriages began +driving off one by one. Meanwhile, amid much disputing, the name of Vandeuvres +was again mentioned. It was quite evident now: for two years past Vandeuvres +had been preparing his final stroke and had accordingly told Gresham to hold +Nana in, while he had only brought Lusignan forward in order to make play for +the filly. The losers were vexed; the winners shrugged their shoulders. After +all, wasn’t the thing permissible? An owner was free to run his stud in +his own way. Many others had done as he had! In fact, the majority thought +Vandeuvres had displayed great skill in raking in all he could get about Nana +through the agency of friends, a course of action which explained the sudden +shortening of the odds. People spoke of his having laid two thousand louis on +the horse, which, supposing the odds to be thirty to one against, gave him +twelve hundred thousand francs, an amount so vast as to inspire respect and to +excuse everything. +</p> + +<p> +But other rumors of a very serious nature were being whispered about: they +issued in the first instance from the enclosure, and the men who returned +thence were full of exact particulars. Voices were raised; an atrocious scandal +began to be openly canvassed. That poor fellow Vandeuvres was done for; he had +spoiled his splendid hit with a piece of flat stupidity, an idiotic robbery, +for he had commissioned Marechal, a shady bookmaker, to lay two thousand louis +on his account against Lusignan, in order thereby to get back his thousand and +odd openly wagered louis. It was a miserable business, and it proved to be the +last rift necessary to the utter breakup of his fortune. The bookmaker being +thus warned that the favorite would not win, had realized some sixty thousand +francs over the horse. Only Labordette, for lack of exact and detailed +instructions, had just then gone to him to put two hundred louis on Nana, which +the bookmaker, in his ignorance of the stroke actually intended, was still +quoting at fifty to one against. Cleared of one hundred thousand francs over +the filly and a loser to the tune of forty thousand, Marechal, who felt the +world crumbling under his feet, had suddenly divined the situation when he saw +the count and Labordette talking together in front of the enclosure just after +the race was over. Furious, as became an ex-coachman of the count’s, and +brutally frank as only a cheated man can be, he had just made a frightful scene +in public, had told the whole story in atrocious terms and had thrown everyone +into angry excitement. It was further stated that the stewards were about to +meet. +</p> + +<p> +Nana, whom Philippe and Georges were whisperingly putting in possession of the +facts, gave vent to a series of reflections and yet ceased not to laugh and +drink. After all, it was quite likely; she remembered such things, and then +that Marechal had a dirty, hangdog look. Nevertheless, she was still rather +doubtful when Labordette appeared. He was very white. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” she asked in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Bloody well smashed up!” he replied simply. +</p> + +<p> +And he shrugged his shoulders. That Vandeuvres was a mere child! She made a +bored little gesture. +</p> + +<p> +That evening at the Bal Mabille Nana obtained a colossal success. When toward +ten o’clock she made her appearance, the uproar was afready formidable. +That classic night of madness had brought together all that was young and +pleasure loving, and now this smart world was wallowing in the coarseness and +imbecility of the servants’ hall. There was a fierce crush under the +festoons of gas lamps, and men in evening coats and women in outrageous +low-necked old toilets, which they did not mind soiling, were howling and +surging to and fro under the maddening influence of a vast drunken fit. At a +distance of thirty paces the brass instruments of the orchestra were inaudible. +Nobody was dancing. Stupid witticisms, repeated no one knew why, were going the +round of the various groups. People were straining after wit without succeeding +in being funny. Seven women, imprisoned in the cloakroom, were crying to be set +free. A shallot had been found, put up to auction and knocked down at two +louis. Just then Nana arrived, still wearing her blue-and-white racecourse +costume, and amid a thunder of applause the shallot was presented to her. +People caught hold of her in her own despite, and three gentlemen bore her +triumphantly into the garden, across ruined grassplots and ravaged masses of +greenery. As the bandstand presented an obstacle to her advance, it was taken +by storm, and chairs and music stands were smashed. A paternal police organized +the disorder. +</p> + +<p> +It was only on Tuesday that Nana recovered from the excitements of victory. +That morning she was chatting with Mme Lerat, the old lady having come in to +bring her news of Louiset, whom the open air had upset. A long story, which was +occupying the attention of all Paris, interested her beyond measure. +Vandeuvres, after being warned off all racecourses and posted at the Cercle +Imperial on the very evening after the disaster, had set fire to his stable on +the morrow and had burned himself and his horses to death. +</p> + +<p> +“He certainly told me he was going to,” the young woman kept +saying. “That man was a regular maniac! Oh, how they did frighten me when +they told me about it yesterday evening! You see, he might easily have murdered +me some fine night. And besides, oughtn’t he to have given me a hint +about his horse? I should at any rate have made my fortune! He said to +Labordette that if I knew about the matter I would immediately inform my +hairdresser and a whole lot of other men. How polite, eh? Oh dear, no, I +certainly can’t grieve much for him.” +</p> + +<p> +After some reflection she had grown very angry. Just then Labordette came in; +he had seen about her bets and was now the bearer of some forty thousand +francs. This only added to her bad temper, for she ought to have gained a +million. Labordette, who during the whole of this episode had been pretending +entire innocence, abandoned Vandeuvres in decisive terms. Those old families, +he opined, were worn out and apt to make a stupid ending. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh dear no!” said Nana. “It isn’t stupid to burn +oneself in one’s stable as he did. For my part, I think he made a dashing +finish; but, oh, you know, I’m not defending that story about him and +Marechal. It’s too silly. Just to think that Blanche has had the cheek to +want to lay the blame of it on me! I said to her: ‘Did I tell him to +steal?’ Don’t you think one can ask a man for money without urging +him to commit crime? If he had said to me, ‘I’ve got nothing +left,’ I should have said to him, ‘All right, let’s +part.’ And the matter wouldn’t have gone further.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so,” said the aunt gravely “When men are obstinate +about a thing, so much the worse for them!” +</p> + +<p> +“But as to the merry little finish up, oh, that was awfully smart!” +continued Nana. “It appears to have been terrible enough to give you the +shudders! He sent everybody away and boxed himself up in the place with a lot +of petroleum. And it blazed! You should have seen it! Just think, a great big +affair, almost all made of wood and stuffed with hay and straw! The flames +simply towered up, and the finest part of the business was that the horses +didn’t want to be roasted. They could be heard plunging, throwing +themselves against the doors, crying aloud just like human beings. Yes, people +haven’t got rid of the horror of it yet.” +</p> + +<p> +Labordette let a low, incredulous whistle escape him. For his part, he did not +believe in the death of Vandeuvres. Somebody had sworn he had seen him escaping +through a window. He had set fire to his stable in a fit of aberration, but +when it had begun to grow too warm it must have sobered him. A man so besotted +about the women and so utterly worn out could not possibly die so pluckily. +</p> + +<p> +Nana listened in her disillusionment and could only remark: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the poor wretch, it was so beautiful!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"></a> CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p> +Toward one in the morning, in the great bed of the Venice point draperies, Nana +and the count lay still awake. He had returned to her that evening after a +three days sulking fit. The room, which was dimly illumined by a lamp, seemed +to slumber amid a warm, damp odor of love, while the furniture, with its white +lacquer and silver incrustations, loomed vague and wan through the gloom. A +curtain had been drawn to, so that the bed lay flooded with shadow. A sigh +became audible; then a kiss broke the silence, and Nana, slipping off the +coverlet, sat for a moment or two, barelegged, on the edge of the bed. The +count let his head fall back on the pillow and remained in darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“Dearest, you believe in the good God, don’t you?” she +queried after some moments’ reflection. Her face was serious; she had +been overcome by pious terrors on quitting her lover’s arms. +</p> + +<p> +Since morning, indeed, she had been complaining of feeling uncomfortable, and +all her stupid notions, as she phrased it, notions about death and hell, were +secretly torturing her. From time to time she had nights such as these, during +which childish fears and atrocious fancies would thrill her with waking +nightmares. She continued: +</p> + +<p> +“I say, d’you think I shall go to heaven?” +</p> + +<p> +And with that she shivered, while the count, in his surprise at her putting +such singular questions at such a moment, felt his old religious remorse +returning upon him. Then with her chemise slipping from her shoulders and her +hair unpinned, she again threw herself upon his breast, sobbing and clinging to +him as she did so. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid of dying! I’m afraid of dying!” He had all +the trouble in the world to disengage himself. Indeed, he was himself afraid of +giving in to the sudden madness of this woman clinging to his body in her dread +of the Invisible. Such dread is contagious, and he reasoned with her. Her +conduct was perfect—she had only to conduct herself well in order one day +to merit pardon. But she shook her head. Doubtless she was doing no one any +harm; nay, she was even in the constant habit of wearing a medal of the Virgin, +which she showed to him as it hung by a red thread between her breasts. Only it +had been foreordained that all unmarried women who held conversation with men +would go to hell. Scraps of her catechism recurred to her remembrance. Ah, if +one only knew for certain, but, alas, one was sure of nothing; nobody ever +brought back any information, and then, truly, it would be stupid to bother +oneself about things if the priests were talking foolishness all the time. +Nevertheless, she religiously kissed her medal, which was still warm from +contact with her skin, as though by way of charm against death, the idea of +which filled her with icy horror. Muffat was obliged to accompany her into the +dressing room, for she shook at the idea of being alone there for one moment, +even though she had left the door open. When he had lain down again she still +roamed about the room, visiting its several corners and starting and shivering +at the slightest noise. A mirror stopped her, and as of old she lapsed into +obvious contemplation of her nakedness. But the sight of her breast, her waist +and her thighs only doubled her terror, and she ended by feeling with both +hands very slowly over the bones of her face. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re ugly when you’re dead,” she said in deliberate +tones. +</p> + +<p> +And she pressed her cheeks, enlarging her eyes and pushing down her jaw, in +order to see how she would look. Thus disfigured, she turned toward the count. +</p> + +<p> +“Do look! My head’ll be quite small, it will!” +</p> + +<p> +At this he grew vexed. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re mad; come to bed!” +</p> + +<p> +He fancied he saw her in a grave, emaciated by a century of sleep, and he +joined his hands and stammered a prayer. It was some time ago that the +religious sense had reconquered him, and now his daily access of faith had +again assumed the apoplectic intensity which was wont to leave him well-nigh +stunned. The joints of his fingers used to crack, and he would repeat without +cease these words only: “My God, my God, my God!” It was the cry of +his impotence, the cry of that sin against which, though his damnation was +certain, he felt powerless to strive. When Nana returned she found him hidden +beneath the bedclothes; he was haggard; he had dug his nails into his bosom, +and his eyes stared upward as though in search of heaven. And with that she +started to weep again. Then they both embraced, and their teeth chattered they +knew not why, as the same imbecile obsession over-mastered them. They had +already passed a similar night, but on this occasion the thing was utterly +idiotic, as Nana declared when she ceased to be frightened. She suspected +something, and this caused her to question the count in a prudent sort of way. +It might be that Rose Mignon had sent the famous letter! But that was not the +case; it was sheer fright, nothing more, for he was still ignorant whether he +was a cuckold or no. +</p> + +<p> +Two days later, after a fresh disappearance, Muffat presented himself in the +morning, a time of day at which he never came. He was livid; his eyes were red +and his whole man still shaken by a great internal struggle. But Zoé, being +scared herself, did not notice his troubled state. She had run to meet him and +now began crying: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monsieur, do come in! Madame nearly died yesterday evening!” +</p> + +<p> +And when he asked for particulars: +</p> + +<p> +“Something it’s impossible to believe has happened—a +miscarriage, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana had been in the family way for the past three months. For long she had +simply thought herself out of sorts, and Dr Boutarel had himself been in doubt. +But when afterward he made her a decisive announcement, she felt so bored +thereby that she did all she possibly could to disguise her condition. Her +nervous terrors, her dark humors, sprang to some extent from this unfortunate +state of things, the secret of which she kept very shamefacedly, as became a +courtesan mother who is obliged to conceal her plight. The thing struck her as +a ridiculous accident, which made her appear small in her own eyes and would, +had it been known, have led people to chaff her. +</p> + +<p> +“A poor joke, eh?” she said. “Bad luck, too, +certainly.” +</p> + +<p> +She was necessarily very sharp set when she thought her last hour had come. +There was no end to her surprise, too; her sexual economy seemed to her to have +got out of order; it produced children then even when one did not want them and +when one employed it for quite other purposes! Nature drove her to +exasperation; this appearance of serious motherhood in a career of pleasure, +this gift of life amid all the deaths she was spreading around, exasperated +her. Why could one not dispose of oneself as fancy dictated, without all this +fuss? And whence had this brat come? She could not even suggest a father. Ah, +dear heaven, the man who made him would have a splendid notion had he kept him +in his own hands, for nobody asked for him; he was in everybody’s way, +and he would certainly not have much happiness in life! +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Zoé described the catastrophe. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame was seized with colic toward four o’clock. When she +didn’t come back out of the dressing room I went in and found her lying +stretched on the floor in a faint. Yes, monsieur, on the floor in a pool of +blood, as though she had been murdered. Then I understood, you see. I was +furious; Madame might quite well have confided her trouble to me. As it +happened, Monsieur Georges was there, and he helped me to lift her up, and +directly a miscarriage was mentioned he felt ill in his turn! Oh, it’s +true I’ve had the hump since yesterday!” +</p> + +<p> +In fact, the house seemed utterly upset. All the servants were galloping +upstairs, downstairs and through the rooms. Georges had passed the night on an +armchair in the drawing room. It was he who had announced the news to +Madame’s friends at that hour of the evening when Madame was in the habit +of receiving. He had still been very pale, and he had told his story very +feelingly, and as though stupefied. Steiner, La Faloise, Philippe and others, +besides, had presented themselves, and at the end of the lad’s first +phrase they burst into exclamations. The thing was impossible! It must be a +farce! After which they grew serious and gazed with an embarrassed expression +at her bedroom door. They shook their heads; it was no laughing matter. +</p> + +<p> +Till midnight a dozen gentlemen had stood talking in low voices in front of the +fireplace. All were friends; all were deeply exercised by the same idea of +paternity. They seemed to be mutually excusing themselves, and they looked as +confused as if they had done something clumsy. Eventually, however, they put a +bold face on the matter. It had nothing to do with them: the fault was hers! +What a stunner that Nana was, eh? One would never have believed her capable of +such a fake! And with that they departed one by one, walking on tiptoe, as +though in a chamber of death where you cannot laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Come up all the same, monsieur,” said Zoé to Muffat. “Madame +is much better and will see you. We are expecting the doctor, who promised to +come back this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +The lady’s maid had persuaded Georges to go back home to sleep, and +upstairs in the drawing room only Satin remained. She lay stretched on a divan, +smoking a cigarette and scanning the ceiling. Amid the household scare which +had followed the accident she had been white with rage, had shrugged her +shoulders violently and had made ferocious remarks. Accordingly, when Zoé was +passing in front of her and telling Monsieur that poor, dear Madame had +suffered a great deal: +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right; it’ll teach him!” said Satin curtly. +</p> + +<p> +They turned round in surprise, but she had not moved a muscle; her eyes were +still turned toward the ceiling, and her cigarette was still wedged tightly +between her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, you’re charming, you are!” said Zoé. +</p> + +<p> +But Satin sat up, looked savagely at the count and once more hurled her remark +at him. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right; it’ll teach him!” +</p> + +<p> +And she lay down again and blew forth a thin jet of smoke, as though she had no +interest in present events and were resolved not to meddle in any of them. No, +it was all too silly! +</p> + +<p> +Zoé, however, introduced Muffat into the bedroom, where a scent of ether +lingered amid warm, heavy silence, scarce broken by the dull roll of occasional +carriages in the Avenue de Villiers. Nana, looking very white on her pillow, +was lying awake with wide-open, meditative eyes. She smiled when she saw the +count but did not move. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, dear pet!” she slowly murmured. “I really thought I +should never see you again.” +</p> + +<p> +Then as he leaned forward to kiss her on the hair, she grew tender toward him +and spoke frankly about the child, as though he were its father. +</p> + +<p> +“I never dared tell you; I felt so happy about it! Oh, I used to dream +about it; I should have liked to be worthy of you! And now there’s +nothing left. Ah well, perhaps that’s best. I don’t want to bring a +stumbling block into your life.” +</p> + +<p> +Astounded by this story of paternity, he began stammering vague phrases. He had +taken a chair and had sat down by the bed, leaning one arm on the coverlet. +Then the young woman noticed his wild expression, the blood reddening his eyes, +the fever that set his lips aquiver. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter then?” she asked. “You’re ill +too.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he answered with extreme difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +She gazed at him with a profound expression. Then she signed to Zoé to retire, +for the latter was lingering round arranging the medicine bottles. And when +they were alone she drew him down to her and again asked: +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter with you, darling? The tears are ready to burst +from your eyes—I can see that quite well. Well now, speak out; +you’ve come to tell me something.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, I swear I haven’t,” he blurted out. But he was +choking with suffering, and this sickroom, into which he had suddenly entered +unawares, so worked on his feelings that he burst out sobbing and buried his +face in the bedclothes to smother the violence of his grief. Nana understood. +Rose Mignon had most assuredly decided to send the letter. She let him weep for +some moments, and he was shaken by convulsions so fierce that the bed trembled +under her. At length in accents of motherly compassion she queried: +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve had bothers at your home?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded affirmatively. She paused anew, and then very low: +</p> + +<p> +“Then you know all?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded assent. And a heavy silence fell over the chamber of suffering. The +night before, on his return from a party given by the empress, he had received +the letter Sabine had written her lover. After an atrocious night passed in the +meditation of vengeance he had gone out in the morning in order to resist a +longing which prompted him to kill his wife. Outside, under a sudden, sweet +influence of a fine June morning, he had lost the thread of his thoughts and +had come to Nana’s, as he always came at terrible moments in his life. +There only he gave way to his misery, for he felt a cowardly joy at the thought +that she would console him. +</p> + +<p> +“Now look here, be calm!” the young woman continued, becoming at +the same time extremely kind. “I’ve known it a long time, but it +was certainly not I that would have opened your eyes. You remember you had your +doubts last year, but then things arranged themselves, owing to my prudence. In +fact, you wanted proofs. The deuce, you’ve got one today, and I know +it’s hard lines. Nevertheless, you must look at the matter quietly: +you’re not dishonored because it’s happened.” +</p> + +<p> +He had left off weeping. A sense of shame restrained him from saying what he +wanted to, although he had long ago slipped into the most intimate confessions +about his household. She had to encourage him. Dear me, she was a woman; she +could understand everything. When in a dull voice he exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“You’re ill. What’s the good of tiring you? It was stupid of +me to have come. I’m going—” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she answered briskly enough. “Stay! Perhaps I shall be +able to give you some good advice. Only don’t make me talk too much; the +medical man’s forbidden it.” +</p> + +<p> +He had ended by rising, and he was now walking up and down the room. Then she +questioned him: +</p> + +<p> +“Now what are you going to do? +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to box the man’s ears—by heavens, +yes!” +</p> + +<p> +She pursed up her lips disapprovingly. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s not very wise. And about your wife?” +</p> + +<p> +“I shall go to law; I’ve proofs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all wise, my dear boy. It’s stupid even. You know I shall +never let you do that!” +</p> + +<p> +And in her feeble voice she showed him decisively how useless and scandalous a +duel and a trial would be. He would be a nine days’ newspaper sensation; +his whole existence would be at stake, his peace of mind, his high situation at +court, the honor of his name, and all for what? That he might have the laughers +against him. +</p> + +<p> +“What will it matter?” he cried. “I shall have had my +revenge.” +</p> + +<p> +“My pet,” she said, “in a business of that kind one never has +one’s revenge if one doesn’t take it directly.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused and stammered. He was certainly no poltroon, but he felt that she was +right. An uneasy feeling was growing momentarily stronger within him, a poor, +shameful feeling which softened his anger now that it was at its hottest. +Moreover, in her frank desire to tell him everything, she dealt him a fresh +blow. +</p> + +<p> +“And d’you want to know what’s annoying you, dearest? Why, +that you are deceiving your wife yourself. You don’t sleep away from home +for nothing, eh? Your wife must have her suspicions. Well then, how can you +blame her? She’ll tell you that you’ve set her the example, and +that’ll shut you up. There, now, that’s why you’re stamping +about here instead of being at home murdering both of ’em.” +</p> + +<p> +Muffat had again sunk down on the chair; he was overwhelmed by these home +thrusts. She broke off and took breath, and then in a low voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m a wreck! Do help me sit up a bit. I keep slipping down, +and my head’s too low.” +</p> + +<p> +When he had helped her she sighed and felt more comfortable. And with that she +harked back to the subject. What a pretty sight a divorce suit would be! +Couldn’t he imagine the advocate of the countess amusing Paris with his +remarks about Nana? Everything would have come out—her fiasco at the +Variétés, her house, her manner of life. Oh dear, no! She had no wish for all +that amount of advertising. Some dirty women might, perhaps, have driven him to +it for the sake of getting a thundering big advertisement, but she—she +desired his happiness before all else. She had drawn him down toward her and, +after passing her arm around his neck, was nursing his head close to hers on +the edge of the pillow. And with that she whispered softly: +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, my pet, you shall make it up with your wife.” +</p> + +<p> +But he rebelled at this. It could never be! His heart was nigh breaking at the +thought; it was too shameful. Nevertheless, she kept tenderly insisting. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall make it up with your wife. Come, come, you don’t want to +hear all the world saying that I’ve tempted you away from your home? I +should have too vile a reputation! What would people think of me? Only swear +that you’ll always love me, because the moment you go with another +woman—” +</p> + +<p> +Tears choked her utterance, and he intervened with kisses and said: +</p> + +<p> +“You’re beside yourself; it’s impossible!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” she rejoined, “you must. But I’ll be +reasonable. After all, she’s your wife, and it isn’t as if you were +to play me false with the firstcomer.” +</p> + +<p> +And she continued in this strain, giving him the most excellent advice. She +even spoke of God, and the count thought he was listening to M. Venot, when +that old gentleman endeavored to sermonize him out of the grasp of sin. Nana, +however, did not speak of breaking it off entirely: she preached indulgent good +nature and suggested that, as became a dear, nice old fellow, he should divide +his attentions between his wife and his mistress, so that they would all enjoy +a quiet life, devoid of any kind of annoyance, something, in fact, in the +nature of a happy slumber amid the inevitable miseries of existence. Their life +would be nowise changed: he would still be the little man of her heart. Only he +would come to her a bit less often and would give the countess the nights not +passed with her. She had got to the end of her strength and left off, speaking +under her breath: +</p> + +<p> +“After that I shall feel I’ve done a good action, and you’ll +love me all the more.” +</p> + +<p> +Silence reigned. She had closed her eyes and lay wan upon her pillow. The count +was patiently listening to her, not wishing her to tire herself. A whole minute +went by before she reopened her eyes and murmured: +</p> + +<p> +“Besides, how about the money? Where would you get the money from if you +must grow angry and go to law? Labordette came for the bill yesterday. As for +me, I’m out of everything; I have nothing to put on now.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she shut her eyes again and looked like one dead. A shadow of deep anguish +had passed over Muffat’s brow. Under the present stroke he had since +yesterday forgotten the money troubles from which he knew not how to escape. +Despite formal promises to the contrary, the bill for a hundred thousand francs +had been put in circulation after being once renewed, and Labordette, +pretending to be very miserable about it, threw all the blame on Francis, +declaring that he would never again mix himself up in such a matter with an +uneducated man. It was necessary to pay, for the count would never have allowed +his signature to be protested. Then in addition to Nana’s novel demands, +his home expenses were extraordinarily confused. On their return from Les +Fondettes the countess had suddenly manifested a taste for luxury, a longing +for worldly pleasures, which was devouring their fortune. Her ruinous caprices +began to be talked about. Their whole household management was altered, and +five hundred thousand francs were squandered in utterly transforming the old +house in the Rue Miromesnil. Then there were extravagantly magnificent gowns +and large sums disappeared, squandered or perhaps given away, without her ever +dreaming of accounting for them. Twice Muffat ventured to mention this, for he +was anxious to know how the money went, but on these occasions she had smiled +and gazed at him with so singular an expression that he dared not interrogate +her further for fear of a too-unmistakable answer. If he were taking Daguenet +as son-in-law as a gift from Nana it was chiefly with the hope of being able to +reduce Estelle’s dower to two hundred thousand francs and of then being +free to make any arrangements he chose about the remainder with a young man who +was still rejoicing in this unexpected match. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, for the last week, under the immediate necessity of finding +Labordette’s hundred thousand francs, Muffat had been able to hit on but +one expedient, from which he recoiled. This was that he should sell the Bordes, +a magnificent property valued at half a million, which an uncle had recently +left the countess. However, her signature was necessary, and she herself, +according to the terms of the deed, could not alienate the property without the +count’s authorization. The day before he had indeed resolved to talk to +his wife about this signature. And now everything was ruined; at such a moment +he would never accept of such a compromise. This reflection added bitterness to +the frightful disgrace of the adultery. He fully understood what Nana was +asking for, since in that ever-growing self-abandonment which prompted him to +put her in possession of all his secrets, he had complained to her of his +position and had confided to her the tiresome difficulty he was in with regard +to the signature of the countess. +</p> + +<p> +Nana, however, did not seem to insist. She did not open her eyes again, and, +seeing her so pale, he grew frightened and made her inhale a little ether. She +gave a sigh and without mentioning Daguenet asked him some questions. +</p> + +<p> +“When is the marriage?” +</p> + +<p> +“We sign the contract on Tuesday, in five days’ time,” he +replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then still keeping her eyelids closed, as though she were speaking from the +darkness and silence of her brain: +</p> + +<p> +“Well then, pet, see to what you’ve got to do. As far as I’m +concerned, I want everybody to be happy and comfortable.” +</p> + +<p> +He took her hand and soothed her. Yes, he would see about it; the important +thing now was for her to rest. And the revolt within him ceased, for this warm +and slumberous sickroom, with its all-pervading scent of ether, had ended by +lulling him into a mere longing for happiness and peace. All his manhood, +erewhile maddened by wrong, had departed out of him in the neighborhood of that +warm bed and that suffering woman, whom he was nursing under the influence of +her feverish heat and of remembered delights. He leaned over her and pressed +her in a close embrace, while despite her unmoved features her lips wore a +delicate, victorious smile. But Dr Boutarel made his appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and how’s this dear child?” he said familiarly to +Muffat, whom he treated as her husband. “The deuce, but we’ve made +her talk!” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor was a good-looking man and still young. He had a superb practice +among the gay world, and being very merry by nature and ready to laugh and joke +in the friendliest way with the demimonde ladies with whom, however, he never +went farther, he charged very high fees and got them paid with the greatest +punctuality. Moreover, he would put himself out to visit them on the most +trivial occasions, and Nana, who was always trembling at the fear of death, +would send and fetch him two or three times a week and would anxiously confide +to him little infantile ills which he would cure to an accompaniment of amusing +gossip and harebrained anecdotes. The ladies all adored him. But this time the +little ill was serious. +</p> + +<p> +Muffat withdrew, deeply moved. Seeing his poor Nana so very weak, his sole +feeling was now one of tenderness. As he was leaving the room she motioned him +back and gave him her forehead to kiss. In a low voice and with a playfully +threatening look she said: +</p> + +<p> +“You know what I’ve allowed you to do. Go back to your wife, or +it’s all over and I shall grow angry!” +</p> + +<p> +The Countess Sabine had been anxious that her daughter’s wedding contract +should be signed on a Tuesday in order that the renovated house, where the +paint was still scarcely dry, might be reopened with a grand entertainment. +Five hundred invitations had been issued to people in all kinds of sets. On the +morning of the great day the upholsterers were still nailing up hangings, and +toward nine at night, just when the lusters were going to be lit, the +architect, accompanied by the eager and interested countess, was given his +final orders. +</p> + +<p> +It was one of those spring festivities which have a delicate charm of their +own. Owing to the warmth of the June nights, it had become possible to open the +two doors of the great drawing room and to extend the dancing floor to the +sanded paths of the garden. When the first guests arrived and were welcomed at +the door by the count and the countess they were positively dazzled. One had +only to recall to mind the drawing room of the past, through which flitted the +icy, ghostly presence of the Countess Muffat, that antique room full of an +atmosphere of religious austerity with its massive First Empire mahogany +furniture, its yellow velvet hangings, its moldy ceiling through which the damp +had soaked. Now from the very threshold of the entrance hall mosaics set off +with gold were glittering under the lights of lofty candelabras, while the +marble staircase unfurled, as it were, a delicately chiseled balustrade. Then, +too, the drawing room looked splendid; it was hung with Genoa velvet, and a +huge decorative design by Boucher covered the ceiling, a design for which the +architect had paid a hundred thousand francs at the sale of the Château de +Dampierre. The lusters and the crystal ornaments lit up a luxurious display of +mirrors and precious furniture. It seemed as though Sabine’s long chair, +that solitary red silk chair, whose soft contours were so marked in the old +days, had grown and spread till it filled the whole great house with voluptuous +idleness and a sense of tense enjoyment not less fierce and hot than a fire +which has been long in burning up. +</p> + +<p> +People were already dancing. The band, which had been located in the garden, in +front of one of the open windows, was playing a waltz, the supple rhythm of +which came softly into the house through the intervening night air. And the +garden seemed to spread away and away, bathed in transparent shadow and lit by +Venetian lamps, while in a purple tent pitched on the edge of a lawn a table +for refreshments had been established. The waltz, which was none other than the +quaint, vulgar one in the Blonde Venus, with its laughing, blackguard lilt, +penetrated the old hotel with sonorous waves of sound and sent a feverish +thrill along its walls. It was as though some fleshly wind had come up out of +the common street and were sweeping the relics of a vanished epoch out of the +proud old dwelling, bearing away the Muffats’ past, the age of honor and +religious faith which had long slumbered beneath the lofty ceilings. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile near the hearth, in their accustomed places, the old friends of the +count’s mother were taking refuge. They felt out of their +element—they were dazzled and they formed a little group amid the slowly +invading mob. Mme du Joncquoy, unable to recognize the various rooms, had come +in through the dining saloon. Mme Chantereau was gazing with a stupefied +expression at the garden, which struck her as immense. Presently there was a +sound of low voices, and the corner gave vent to all sorts of bitter +reflections. +</p> + +<p> +“I declare,” murmured Mme Chantereau, “just fancy if the +countess were to return to life. Why, can you not imagine her coming in among +all these crowds of people! And then there’s all this gilding and this +uproar! It’s scandalous!” +</p> + +<p> +“Sabine’s out of her senses,” replied Mme du Joncquoy. +“Did you see her at the door? Look, you can catch sight of her here; +she’s wearing all her diamonds.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment or two they stood up in order to take a distant view of the count +and countess. Sabine was in a white dress trimmed with marvelous English point +lace. She was triumphant in beauty; she looked young and gay, and there was a +touch of intoxication in her continual smile. Beside her stood Muffat, looking +aged and a little pale, but he, too, was smiling in his calm and worthy +fashion. +</p> + +<p> +“And just to think that he was once master,” continued Mme +Chantereau, “and that not a single rout seat would have come in without +his permission! Ah well, she’s changed all that; it’s her house +now. D’you remember when she did not want to do her drawing room up +again? She’s done up the entire house.” +</p> + +<p> +But the ladies grew silent, for Mme de Chezelles was entering the room, +followed by a band of young men. She was going into ecstasies and marking her +approval with a succession of little exclamations. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s delicious, exquisite! What taste!” And she shouted +back to her followers: +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t I say so? There’s nothing equal to these old places +when one takes them in hand. They become dazzling! It’s quite in the +grand seventeenth-century style. Well, NOW she can receive.” +</p> + +<p> +The two old ladies had again sat down and with lowered tones began talking +about the marriage, which was causing astonishment to a good many people. +Estelle had just passed by them. She was in a pink silk gown and was as pale, +flat, silent and virginal as ever. She had accepted Daguenet very quietly and +now evinced neither joy nor sadness, for she was still as cold and white as on +those winter evenings when she used to put logs on the fire. This whole fête +given in her honor, these lights and flowers and tunes, left her quite unmoved. +</p> + +<p> +“An adventurer,” Mme du Joncquoy was saying. “For my part, +I’ve never seen him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take care, here he is,” whispered Mme Chantereau. +</p> + +<p> +Daguenet, who had caught sight of Mme Hugon and her sons, had eagerly offered +her his arm. He laughed and was effusively affectionate toward her, as though +she had had a hand in his sudden good fortune. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” she said, sitting down near the fireplace. “You +see, it’s my old corner.” +</p> + +<p> +“You know him?” queried Mme du Joncquoy, when Daguenet had gone. +“Certainly I do—a charming young man. Georges is very fond of him. +Oh, they’re a most respected family.” +</p> + +<p> +And the good lady defended him against the mute hostility which was apparent to +her. His father, held in high esteem by Louis Philippe, had been a PREFET up to +the time of his death. The son had been a little dissipated, perhaps; they said +he was ruined, but in any case, one of his uncles, who was a great landowner, +was bound to leave him his fortune. The ladies, however, shook their heads, +while Mme Hugon, herself somewhat embarrassed, kept harking back to the extreme +respectability of his family. She was very much fatigued and complained of her +feet. For some months she had been occupying her house in the Rue Richelieu, +having, as she said, a whole lot of things on hand. A look of sorrow +overshadowed her smiling, motherly face. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” Mme Chantereau concluded. “Estelle could have +aimed at something much better.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a flourish. A quadrille was about to begin, and the crowd flowed back +to the sides of the drawing room in order to leave the floor clear. Bright +dresses flitted by and mingled together amid the dark evening coats, while the +intense light set jewels flashing and white plumes quivering and lilacs and +roses gleaming and flowering amid the sea of many heads. It was already very +warm, and a penetrating perfume was exhaled from light tulles and crumpled +silks and satins, from which bare shoulders glimmered white, while the +orchestra played its lively airs. Through open doors ranges of seated ladies +were visible in the background of adjoining rooms; they flashed a discreet +smile; their eyes glowed, and they made pretty mouths as the breath of their +fans caressed their faces. And guests still kept arriving, and a footman +announced their names while gentlemen advanced slowly amid the surrounding +groups, striving to find places for ladies, who hung with difficulty on their +arms, and stretching forward in quest of some far-off vacant armchair. The +house kept filling, and crinolined skirts got jammed together with a little +rustling sound. There were corners where an amalgam of laces, bunches and puffs +would completely bar the way, while all the other ladies stood waiting, +politely resigned and imperturbably graceful, as became people who were made to +take part in these dazzling crushes. Meanwhile across the garden couples, who +had been glad to escape from the close air of the great drawing room, were +wandering away under the roseate gleam of the Venetian lamps, and shadowy +dresses kept flitting along the edge of the lawn, as though in rhythmic time to +the music of the quadrille, which sounded sweet and distant behind the trees. +</p> + +<p> +Steiner had just met with Foucarmont and La Faloise, who were drinking a glass +of champagne in front of the buffet. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s beastly smart,” said La Faloise as he took a survey of +the purple tent, which was supported by gilded lances. “You might fancy +yourself at the Gingerbread Fair. That’s it—the Gingerbread +Fair!” +</p> + +<p> +In these days he continually affected a bantering tone, posing as the young man +who has abused every mortal thing and now finds nothing worth taking seriously. +</p> + +<p> +“How surprised poor Vandeuvres would be if he were to come back,” +murmured Foucarmont. “You remember how he simply nearly died of boredom +in front of the fire in there. Egad, it was no laughing matter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Vandeuvres—oh, let him be. He’s a gone coon!” La +Faloise disdainfully rejoined. “He jolly well choused himself, he did, if +he thought he could make us sit up with his roast-meat story! Not a soul +mentions it now. Blotted out, done for, buried—that’s what’s +the matter with Vandeuvres! Here’s to the next man!” +</p> + +<p> +Then as Steiner shook hands with him: +</p> + +<p> +“You know Nana’s just arrived. Oh, my boys, it was a state entry. +It was too brilliant for anything! First of all she kissed the countess. Then +when the children came up she gave them her blessing and said to Daguenet, +‘Listen, Paul, if you go running after the girls you’ll have to +answer for it to me.’ What, d’you mean to say you didn’t see +that? Oh, it WAS smart. A success, if you like!” +</p> + +<p> +The other two listened to him, openmouthed, and at last burst out laughing. He +was enchanted and thought himself in his best vein. +</p> + +<p> +“You thought it had really happened, eh? Confound it, since Nana’s +made the match! Anyway, she’s one of the family.” +</p> + +<p> +The young Hugons were passing, and Philippe silenced him. And with that they +chatted about the marriage from the male point of view. Georges was vexed with +La Faloise for telling an anecdote. Certainly Nana had fubbed off on Muffat one +of her old flames as son-in-law; only it was not true that she had been to bed +with Daguenet as lately as yesterday. Foucarmont made bold to shrug his +shoulders. Could anyone ever tell when Nana was in bed with anyone? But Georges +grew excited and answered with an “I can tell, sir!” which set them +all laughing. In a word, as Steiner put it, it was all a very funny kettle of +fish! +</p> + +<p> +The buffet was gradually invaded by the crowd, and, still keeping together, +they vacated their positions there. La Faloise stared brazenly at the women as +though he believed himself to be Mabille. At the end of a garden walk the +little band was surprised to find M. Venot busily conferring with Daguenet, and +with that they indulged in some facile pleasantries which made them very merry. +He was confessing him, giving him advice about the bridal night! Presently they +returned in front of one of the drawing-room doors, within which a polka was +sending the couples whirling to and fro till they seemed to leave a wake behind +them among the crowd of men who remained standing about. In the slight puffs of +air which came from outside the tapers flared up brilliantly, and when a dress +floated by in time to the rat-tat of the measure, a little gust of wind cooled +the sparkling heat which streamed down from the lusters. +</p> + +<p> +“Egad, they’re not cold in there!” muttered La Faloise. +</p> + +<p> +They blinked after emerging from the mysterious shadows of the garden. Then +they pointed out to one another the Marquis de Chouard where he stood apart, +his tall figure towering over the bare shoulders which surrounded him. His face +was pale and very stern, and beneath its crown of scant white hair it wore an +expression of lofty dignity. Scandalized by Count Muffat’s conduct, he +had publicly broken off all intercourse with him and was by way of never again +setting foot in the house. If he had consented to put in an appearance that +evening it was because his granddaughter had begged him to. But he disapproved +of her marriage and had inveighed indignantly against the way in which the +government classes were being disorganized by the shameful compromises +engendered by modern debauchery. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, it’s the end of all things,” Mme du Joncquoy whispered +in Mme Chantereau’s ear as she sat near the fireplace. “That bad +woman has bewitched the unfortunate man. And to think we once knew him such a +true believer, such a noblehearted gentleman!” +</p> + +<p> +“It appears he is ruining himself,” continued Mme Chantereau. +“My husband has had a bill of his in his hands. At present he’s +living in that house in the Avenue de Villiers; all Paris is talking about it. +Good heavens! I don’t make excuses for Sabine, but you must admit that he +gives her infinite cause of complaint, and, dear me, if she throws money out of +the window, too—” +</p> + +<p> +“She does not only throw money,” interrupted the other. “In +fact, between them, there’s no knowing where they’ll stop; +they’ll end in the mire, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +But just then a soft voice interrupted them. It was M. Venot, and he had come +and seated himself behind them, as though anxious to disappear from view. +Bending forward, he murmured: +</p> + +<p> +“Why despair? God manifests Himself when all seems lost.” +</p> + +<p> +He was assisting peacefully at the downfall of the house which he erewhile +governed. Since his stay at Les Fondettes he had been allowing the madness to +increase, for he was very clearly aware of his own powerlessness. He had, +indeed, accepted the whole position—the count’s wild passion for +Nana, Fauchery’s presence, even Estelle’s marriage with Daguenet. +What did these things matter? He even became more supple and mysterious, for he +nursed a hope of being able to gain the same mastery over the young as over the +disunited couple, and he knew that great disorders lead to great conversions. +Providence would have its opportunity. +</p> + +<p> +“Our friend,” he continued in a low voice, “is always +animated by the best religious sentiments. He has given me the sweetest proofs +of this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Mme du Joncquoy, “he ought first to have made it +up with his wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless. At this moment I have hopes that the reconciliation will be +shortly effected.” +</p> + +<p> +Whereupon the two old ladies questioned him. +</p> + +<p> +But he grew very humble again. “Heaven,” he said, “must be +left to act.” His whole desire in bringing the count and the countess +together again was to avoid a public scandal, for religion tolerated many +faults when the proprieties were respected. +</p> + +<p> +“In fact,” resumed Mme du Joncquoy, “you ought to have +prevented this union with an adventurer.” +</p> + +<p> +The little old gentleman assumed an expression of profound astonishment. +“You deceive yourself. Monsieur Daguenet is a young man of the greatest +merit. I am acquainted with his thoughts; he is anxious to live down the errors +of his youth. Estelle will bring him back to the path of virtue, be sure of +that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Estelle!” Mme Chantereau murmured disdainfully. “I +believe the dear young thing to be incapable of willing anything; she is so +insignificant!” +</p> + +<p> +This opinion caused M. Venot to smile. However, he went into no explanations +about the young bride and, shutting his eyes, as though to avoid seeming to +take any further interest in the matter, he once more lost himself in his +corner behind the petticoats. Mme Hugon, though weary and absent-minded, had +caught some phrases of the conversation, and she now intervened and summed up +in her tolerant way by remarking to the Marquis de Chouard, who just then bowed +to her: +</p> + +<p> +“These ladies are too severe. Existence is so bitter for every one of us! +Ought we not to forgive others much, my friend, if we wish to merit forgiveness +ourselves?” +</p> + +<p> +For some seconds the marquis appeared embarrassed, for he was afraid of +allusions. But the good lady wore so sad a smile that he recovered almost at +once and remarked: +</p> + +<p> +“No, there is no forgiveness for certain faults. It is by reason of this +kind of accommodating spirit that a society sinks into the abyss of +ruin.” +</p> + +<p> +The ball had grown still more animated. A fresh quadrille was imparting a +slight swaying motion to the drawing-room floor, as though the old dwelling had +been shaken by the impulse of the dance. Now and again amid the wan confusion +of heads a woman’s face with shining eyes and parted lips stood sharply +out as it was whirled away by the dance, the light of the lusters gleaming on +the white skin. Mme du Joncquoy declared that the present proceedings were +senseless. It was madness to crowd five hundred people into a room which would +scarcely contain two hundred. In fact, why not sign the wedding contract on the +Place du Carrousel? This was the outcome of the new code of manners, said Mme +Chantereau. In old times these solemnities took place in the bosom of the +family, but today one must have a mob of people; the whole street must be +allowed to enter quite freely, and there must be a great crush, or else the +evening seems a chilly affair. People now advertised their luxury and +introduced the mere foam on the wave of Parisian society into their houses, and +accordingly it was only too natural if illicit proceedings such as they had +been discussing afterward polluted the hearth. The ladies complained that they +could not recognize more than fifty people. Where did all this crowd spring +from? Young girls with low necks were making a great display of their +shoulders. A woman had a golden dagger stuck in her chignon, while a bodice +thickly embroidered with jet beads clothed her in what looked like a coat of +mail. People’s eyes kept following another lady smilingly, so singularly +marked were her clinging skirts. All the luxuriant splendor of the departing +winter was there—the overtolerant world of pleasure, the scratch +gathering a hostess can get together after a first introduction, the sort of +society, in fact, in which great names and great shames jostle together in the +same fierce quest of enjoyment. The heat was increasing, and amid the +overcrowded rooms the quadrille unrolled the cadenced symmetry of its figures. +</p> + +<p> +“Very smart—the countess!” La Faloise continued at the garden +door. “She’s ten years younger than her daughter. By the by, +Foucarmont, you must decide on a point. Vandeuvres once bet that she had no +thighs.” +</p> + +<p> +This affectation of cynicism bored the other gentlemen, and Foucarmont +contented himself by saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Ask your cousin, dear boy. Here he is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jove, it’s a happy thought!” cried La Faloise. “I bet +ten louis she has thighs.” +</p> + +<p> +Fauchery did indeed come up. As became a constant inmate of the house, he had +gone round by the dining room in order to avoid the crowded doors. Rose had +taken him up again at the beginning of the winter, and he was now dividing +himself between the singer and the countess, but he was extremely fatigued and +did not know how to get rid of one of them. Sabine flattered his vanity, but +Rose amused him more than she. Besides, the passion Rose felt was a real one: +her tenderness for him was marked by a conjugal fidelity which drove Mignon to +despair. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, we want some information,” said La Faloise as he squeezed +his cousin’s arm. “You see that lady in white silk?” +</p> + +<p> +Ever since his inheritance had given him a kind of insolent dash of manner he +had affected to chaff Fauchery, for he had an old grudge to satisfy and wanted +to be revenged for much bygone raillery, dating from the days when he was just +fresh from his native province. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that lady with the lace.” +</p> + +<p> +The journalist stood on tiptoe, for as yet he did not understand. +</p> + +<p> +“The countess?” he said at last. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly, my good friend. I’ve bet ten louis—now, has she +thighs?” +</p> + +<p> +And he fell a-laughing, for he was delighted to have succeeded in snubbing a +fellow who had once come heavily down on him for asking whether the countess +slept with anyone. But Fauchery, without showing the very slightest +astonishment, looked fixedly at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Get along, you idiot!” he said finally as he shrugged his +shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +Then he shook hands with the other gentlemen, while La Faloise, in his +discomfiture, felt rather uncertain whether he had said something funny. The +men chatted. Since the races the banker and Foucarmont had formed part of the +set in the Avenue de Villiers. Nana was going on much better, and every evening +the count came and asked how she did. Meanwhile Fauchery, though he listened, +seemed preoccupied, for during a quarrel that morning Rose had roundly +confessed to the sending of the letter. Oh yes, he might present himself at his +great lady’s house; he would be well received! After long hesitation he +had come despite everything—out of sheer courage. But La Faloise’s +imbecile pleasantry had upset him in spite of his apparent tranquillity. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” asked Philippe. “You seem in +trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do? Not at all. I’ve been working: that’s why I came so +late.” +</p> + +<p> +Then coldly, in one of those heroic moods which, although unnoticed, are wont +to solve the vulgar tragedies of existence: +</p> + +<p> +“All the same, I haven’t made my bow to our hosts. One must be +civil.” +</p> + +<p> +He even ventured on a joke, for he turned to La Faloise and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, you idiot?” +</p> + +<p> +And with that he pushed his way through the crowd. The valet’s full voice +was no longer shouting out names, but close to the door the count and countess +were still talking, for they were detained by ladies coming in. At length he +joined them, while the gentlemen who were still on the garden steps stood on +tiptoe so as to watch the scene. Nana, they thought, must have been chattering. +</p> + +<p> +“The count hasn’t noticed him,” muttered Georges. “Look +out! He’s turning round; there, it’s done!” +</p> + +<p> +The band had again taken up the waltz in the Blonde Venus. Fauchery had begun +by bowing to the countess, who was still smiling in ecstatic serenity. After +which he had stood motionless a moment, waiting very calmly behind the +count’s back. That evening the count’s deportment was one of lofty +gravity: he held his head high, as became the official and the great dignitary. +And when at last he lowered his gaze in the direction of the journalist he +seemed still further to emphasize the majesty of his attitude. For some seconds +the two men looked at one another. It was Fauchery who first stretched out his +hand. Muffat gave him his. Their hands remained clasped, and the Countess +Sabine with downcast eyes stood smiling before them, while the waltz +continually beat out its mocking, vagabond rhythm. +</p> + +<p> +“But the thing’s going on wheels!” said Steiner. +</p> + +<p> +“Are their hands glued together?” asked Foucarmont, surprised at +this prolonged clasp. A memory he could not forget brought a faint glow to +Fanchery’s pale cheeks, and in his mind’s eye he saw the property +room bathed in greenish twilight and filled with dusty bric-a-brac. And Muffat +was there, eggcup in hand, making a clever use of his suspicions. At this +moment Muffat was no longer suspicious, and the last vestige of his dignity was +crumbling in ruin. Fauchery’s fears were assuaged, and when he saw the +frank gaiety of the countess he was seized with a desire to laugh. The thing +struck him as comic. +</p> + +<p> +“Aha, here she is at last!” cried La Faloise, who did not abandon a +jest when he thought it a good one. “D’you see Nana coming in over +there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue, do, you idiot!” muttered Philippe. +</p> + +<p> +“But I tell you, it is Nana! They’re playing her waltz for her, by +Jove! She’s making her entry. And she takes part in the reconciliation, +the devil she does! What? You don’t see her? She’s squeezing all +three of ’em to her heart—my cousin Fauchery, my lady cousin and +her husband, and she’s calling ’em her dear kitties. Oh, those +family scenes give me a turn!” +</p> + +<p> +Estelle had come up, and Fauchery complimented her while she stood stiffly up +in her rose-colored dress, gazing at him with the astonished look of a silent +child and constantly glancing aside at her father and mother. Daguenet, too, +exchanged a hearty shake of the hand with the journalist. Together they made up +a smiling group, while M. Venot came gliding in behind them. He gloated over +them with a beatified expression and seemed to envelop them in his pious +sweetness, for he rejoiced in these last instances of self-abandonment which +were preparing the means of grace. +</p> + +<p> +But the waltz still beat out its swinging, laughing, voluptuous measure; it was +like a shrill continuation of the life of pleasure which was beating against +the old house like a rising tide. The band blew louder trills from their little +flutes; their violins sent forth more swooning notes. Beneath the Genoa velvet +hangings, the gilding and the paintings, the lusters exhaled a living heat and +a great glow of sunlight, while the crowd of guests, multiplied in the +surrounding mirrors, seemed to grow and increase as the murmur of many voices +rose ever louder. The couples who whirled round the drawing room, arm about +waist, amid the smiles of the seated ladies, still further accentuated the +quaking of the floors. In the garden a dull, fiery glow fell from the Venetian +lanterns and threw a distant reflection of flame over the dark shadows moving +in search of a breath of air about the walks at its farther end. And this +trembling of walls and this red glow of light seemed to betoken a great +ultimate conflagration in which the fabric of an ancient honor was cracking and +burning on every side. The shy early beginnings of gaiety, of which Fauchery +one April evening had heard the vocal expression in the sound of breaking +glass, had little by little grown bolder, wilder, till they had burst forth in +this festival. Now the rift was growing; it was crannying the house and +announcing approaching downfall. Among drunkards in the slums it is black +misery, an empty cupboard, which put an end to ruined families; it is the +madness of drink which empties the wretched beds. Here the waltz tune was +sounding the knell of an old race amid the suddenly ignited ruins of +accumulated wealth, while Nana, although unseen, stretched her lithe limbs +above the dancers’ heads and sent corruption through their caste, +drenching the hot air with the ferment of her exhalations and the vagabond lilt +of the music. +</p> + +<p> +On the evening after the celebration of the church marriage Count Muffat made +his appearance in his wife’s bedroom, where he had not entered for the +last two years. At first, in her great surprise, the countess drew back from +him. But she was still smiling the intoxicated smile which she now always wore. +He began stammering in extreme embarrassment; whereupon she gave him a short +moral lecture. However, neither of them risked a decisive explanation. It was +religion, they pretended, which required this process of mutual forgiveness, +and they agreed by a tacit understanding to retain their freedom. Before going +to bed, seeing that the countess still appeared to hesitate, they had a +business conversation, and the count was the first to speak of selling the +Bordes. She consented at once. They both stood in great want of money, and they +would share and share alike. This completed the reconciliation, and Muffat, +remorseful though he was, felt veritably relieved. +</p> + +<p> +That very day, as Nana was dozing toward two in the afternoon, Zoé made so bold +as to knock at her bedroom door. The curtains were drawn to, and a hot breath +of wind kept blowing through a window into the fresh twilight stillness within. +During these last days the young woman had been getting up and about again, but +she was still somewhat weak. She opened her eyes and asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Who is it?” +</p> + +<p> +Zoé was about to reply, but Daguenet pushed by her and announced himself in +person. Nana forthwith propped herself up on her pillow and, dismissing the +lady’s maid: +</p> + +<p> +“What! Is that you?” she cried. “On the day of your marriage? +What can be the matter?” +</p> + +<p> +Taken aback by the darkness, he stood still in the middle of the room. However, +he grew used to it and came forward at last. He was in evening dress and wore a +white cravat and gloves. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, to be sure, it’s me!” he said. “You don’t +remember?” +</p> + +<p> +No, she remembered nothing, and in his chaffing way he had to offer himself +frankly to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, here’s your commission. I’ve brought you the +handsel of my innocence!” +</p> + +<p> +And with that, as he was now by the bedside, she caught him in her bare arms +and shook with merry laughter and almost cried, she thought it so pretty of +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that Mimi, how funny he is! He’s thought of it after all! And +to think I didn’t remember it any longer! So you’ve slipped off; +you’re just out of church. Yes, certainly, you’ve got a scent of +incense about you. But kiss me, kiss me! Oh, harder than that, Mimi dear! Bah! +Perhaps it’s for the last time.” +</p> + +<p> +In the dim room, where a vague odor of ether still lingered, their tender +laughter died away suddenly. The heavy, warm breeze swelled the window +curtains, and children’s voices were audible in the avenue without. Then +the lateness of the hour tore them asunder and set them joking again. Daguenet +took his departure with his wife directly after the breakfast. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"></a> CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p> +Toward the end of September Count Muffat, who was to dine at Nana’s that +evening, came at nightfall to inform her of a summons to the Tuileries. The +lamps in the house had not been lit yet, and the servants were laughing +uproariously in the kitchen regions as he softly mounted the stairs, where the +tall windows gleamed in warm shadow. The door of the drawing room up-stairs +opened noiselessly. A faint pink glow was dying out on the ceiling of the room, +and the red hangings, the deep divans, the lacquered furniture, with their +medley of embroidered fabrics and bronzes and china, were already sleeping +under a slowly creeping flood of shadows, which drowned nooks and corners and +blotted out the gleam of ivory and the glint of gold. And there in the +darkness, on the white surface of a wide, outspread petticoat, which alone +remained clearly visible, he saw Nana lying stretched in the arms of Georges. +Denial in any shape or form was impossible. He gave a choking cry and stood +gaping at them. +</p> + +<p> +Nana had bounded up, and now she pushed him into the bedroom in order to give +the lad time to escape. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in,” she murmured with reeling senses, “I’ll +explain.” +</p> + +<p> +She was exasperated at being thus surprised. Never before had she given way +like this in her own house, in her own drawing room, when the doors were open. +It was a long story: Georges and she had had a disagreement; he had been mad +with jealousy of Philippe, and he had sobbed so bitterly on her bosom that she +had yielded to him, not knowing how else to calm him and really very full of +pity for him at heart. And on this solitary occasion, when she had been stupid +enough to forget herself thus with a little rascal who could not even now bring +her bouquets of violets, so short did his mother keep him—on this +solitary occasion the count turned up and came straight down on them. +’Gad, she had very bad luck! That was what one got if one was a +good-natured wench! +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile in the bedroom, into which she had pushed Muffat, the darkness was +complete. Whereupon after some groping she rang furiously and asked for a lamp. +It was Julien’s fault too! If there had been a lamp in the drawing room +the whole affair would not have happened. It was the stupid nightfall which had +got the better of her heart. +</p> + +<p> +“I beseech you to be reasonable, my pet,” she said when Zoé had +brought in the lights. +</p> + +<p> +The count, with his hands on his knees, was sitting gazing at the floor. He was +stupefied by what he had just seen. He did not cry out in anger. He only +trembled, as though overtaken by some horror which was freezing him. This dumb +misery touched the young woman, and she tried to comfort him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes, I’ve done wrong. It’s very bad what I did. You +see I’m sorry for my fault. It makes me grieve very much because it +annoys you. Come now, be nice, too, and forgive me.” +</p> + +<p> +She had crouched down at his feet and was striving to catch his eye with a look +of tender submission. She was fain to know whether he was very vexed with her. +Presently, as he gave a long sigh and seemed to recover himself, she grew more +coaxing and with grave kindness of manner added a final reason: +</p> + +<p> +“You see, dearie, you must try and understand how it is: I can’t +refuse it to my poor friends.” +</p> + +<p> +The count consented to give way and only insisted that Georges should be +dismissed once for all. But all his illusions had vanished, and he no longer +believed in her sworn fidelity. Next day Nana would deceive him anew, and he +only remained her miserable possessor in obedience to a cowardly necessity and +to terror at the thought of living without her. +</p> + +<p> +This was the epoch in her existence when Nana flared upon Paris with redoubled +splendor. She loomed larger than heretofore on the horizon of vice and swayed +the town with her impudently flaunted splendor and that contempt of money which +made her openly squander fortunes. Her house had become a sort of glowing +smithy, where her continual desires were the flames and the slightest breath +from her lips changed gold into fine ashes, which the wind hourly swept away. +Never had eye beheld such a rage of expenditure. The great house seemed to have +been built over a gulf in which men—their worldly possessions, their +fortunes, their very names—were swallowed up without leaving even a +handful of dust behind them. This courtesan, who had the tastes of a parrot and +gobbled up radishes and burnt almonds and pecked at the meat upon her plate, +had monthly table bills amounting to five thousand francs. The wildest waste +went on in the kitchen: the place, metaphorically speaking was one great river +which stove in cask upon cask of wine and swept great bills with it, swollen by +three or four successive manipulators. Victorine and Francois reigned supreme +in the kitchen, whither they invited friends. In addition to these there was +quite a little tribe of cousins, who were cockered up in their homes with cold +meats and strong soup. Julien made the trades-people give him commissions, and +the glaziers never put up a pane of glass at a cost of a franc and a half but +he had a franc put down to himself. Charles devoured the horses’ oats and +doubled the amount of their provender, reselling at the back door what came in +at the carriage gate, while amid the general pillage, the sack of the town +after the storm, Zoé, by dint of cleverness, succeeded in saving appearances +and covering the thefts of all in order the better to slur over and make good +her own. But the household waste was worse than the household dishonesty. +Yesterday’s food was thrown into the gutter, and the collection of +provisions in the house was such that the servants grew disgusted with it. The +glass was all sticky with sugar, and the gas burners flared and flared till the +rooms seemed ready to explode. Then, too, there were instances of negligence +and mischief and sheer accident—of everything, in fact, which can hasten +the ruin of a house devoured by so many mouths. Upstairs in Madame’s +quarters destruction raged more fiercely still. Dresses, which cost ten +thousand francs and had been twice worn, were sold by Zoé; jewels vanished as +though they had crumbled deep down in their drawers; stupid purchases were +made; every novelty of the day was brought and left to lie forgotten in some +corner the morning after or swept up by ragpickers in the street. She could not +see any very expensive object without wanting to possess it, and so she +constantly surrounded herself with the wrecks of bouquets and costly +knickknacks and was the happier the more her passing fancy cost. Nothing +remained intact in her hands; she broke everything, and this object withered, +and that grew dirty in the clasp of her lithe white fingers. A perfect heap of +nameless débris, of twisted shreds and muddy rags, followed her and marked her +passage. Then amid this utter squandering of pocket money cropped up a question +about the big bills and their settlement. Twenty thousand francs were due to +the modiste, thirty thousand to the linen draper, twelve thousand to the +bootmaker. Her stable devoured fifty thousand for her, and in six months she +ran up a bill of a hundred and twenty thousand francs at her ladies’ +tailor. Though she had not enlarged her scheme of expenditure, which Labordette +reckoned at four hundred thousand francs on an average, she ran up that same +year to a million. She was herself stupefied by the amount and was unable to +tell whither such a sum could have gone. Heaps upon heaps of men, barrowfuls of +gold, failed to stop up the hole, which, amid this ruinous luxury, continually +gaped under the floor of her house. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Nana had cherished her latest caprice. Once more exercised by the +notion that her room needed redoing, she fancied she had hit on something at +last. The room should be done in velvet of the color of tea roses, with silver +buttons and golden cords, tassels and fringes, and the hangings should be +caught up to the ceiling after the manner of a tent. This arrangement ought to +be both rich and tender, she thought, and would form a splendid background to +her blonde vermeil-tinted skin. However, the bedroom was only designed to serve +as a setting to the bed, which was to be a dazzling affair, a prodigy. Nana +meditated a bed such as had never before existed; it was to be a throne, an +altar, whither Paris was to come in order to adore her sovereign nudity. It was +to be all in gold and silver beaten work—it should suggest a great piece +of jewelry with its golden roses climbing on a trelliswork of silver. On the +headboard a band of Loves should peep forth laughing from amid the flowers, as +though they were watching the voluptuous dalliance within the shadow of the bed +curtains. Nana had applied to Labordette who had brought two goldsmiths to see +her. They were already busy with the designs. The bed would cost fifty thousand +francs, and Muffat was to give it her as a New Year’s present. +</p> + +<p> +What most astonished the young woman was that she was endlessly short of money +amid a river of gold, the tide of which almost enveloped her. On certain days +she was at her wit’s end for want of ridiculously small sums—sums +of only a few louis. She was driven to borrow from Zoé, or she scraped up cash +as well as she could on her own account. But before resignedly adopting extreme +measures she tried her friends and in a joking sort of way got the men to give +her all they had about them, even down to their coppers. For the last three +months she had been emptying Philippe’s pockets especially, and now on +days of passionate enjoyment he never came away but he left his purse behind +him. Soon she grew bolder and asked him for loans of two hundred francs, three +hundred francs—never more than that—wherewith to pay the interest +of bills or to stave off outrageous debts. And Philippe, who in July had been +appointed paymaster to his regiment, would bring the money the day after, +apologizing at the same time for not being rich, seeing that good Mamma Hugon +now treated her sons with singular financial severity. At the close of three +months these little oft-renewed loans mounted up to a sum of ten thousand +francs. The captain still laughed his hearty-sounding laugh, but he was growing +visibly thinner, and sometimes he seemed absent-minded, and a shade of +suffering would pass over his face. But one look from Nana’s eyes would +transfigure him in a sort of sensual ecstasy. She had a very coaxing way with +him and would intoxicate him with furtive kisses and yield herself to him in +sudden fits of self-abandonment, which tied him to her apron strings the moment +he was able to escape from his military duties. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, Nana having announced that her name, too, was Thérèse and that her +fête day was the fifteenth of October, the gentlemen all sent her presents. +Captain Philippe brought his himself; it was an old comfit dish in Dresden +china, and it had a gold mount. He found her alone in her dressing room. She +had just emerged from the bath, had nothing on save a great red-and-white +flannel bathing wrap and was very busy examining her presents, which were +ranged on a table. She had already broken a rock-crystal flask in her attempts +to unstopper it. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’re too nice!” she said. “What is it? +Let’s have a peep! What a baby you are to spend your pennies in little +fakements like that!” +</p> + +<p> +She scolded him, seeing that he was not rich, but at heart she was delighted to +see him spending his whole substance for her. Indeed, this was the only proof +of love which had power to touch her. Meanwhile she was fiddling away at the +comfit dish, opening it and shutting it in her desire to see how it was made. +</p> + +<p> +“Take care,” he murmured, “it’s brittle.” +</p> + +<p> +But she shrugged her shoulders. Did he think her as clumsy as a street porter? +And all of a sudden the hinge came off between her fingers and the lid fell and +was broken. She was stupefied and remained gazing at the fragments as she +cried: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s smashed!” +</p> + +<p> +Then she burst out laughing. The fragments lying on the floor tickled her +fancy. Her merriment was of the nervous kind, the stupid, spiteful laughter of +a child who delights in destruction. Philippe had a little fit of disgust, for +the wretched girl did not know what anguish this curio had cost him. Seeing him +thoroughly upset, she tried to contain herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Gracious me, it isn’t my fault! It was cracked; those old things +barely hold together. Besides, it was the cover! Didn’t you see the bound +it gave?” +</p> + +<p> +And she once more burst into uproarious mirth. +</p> + +<p> +But though he made an effort to the contrary, tears appeared in the young +man’s eyes, and with that she flung her arms tenderly round his neck. +</p> + +<p> +“How silly you are! You know I love you all the same. If one never broke +anything the tradesmen would never sell anything. All that sort of +thing’s made to be broken. Now look at this fan; it’s only held +together with glue!” +</p> + +<p> +She had snatched up a fan and was dragging at the blades so that the silk was +torn in two. This seemed to excite her, and in order to show that she scorned +the other presents, the moment she had ruined his she treated herself to a +general massacre, rapping each successive object and proving clearly that not +one was solid in that she had broken them all. There was a lurid glow in her +vacant eyes, and her lips, slightly drawn back, displayed her white teeth. +Soon, when everything was in fragments, she laughed cheerily again and with +flushed cheeks beat on the table with the flat of her hands, lisping like a +naughty little girl: +</p> + +<p> +“All over! Got no more! Got no more!” +</p> + +<p> +Then Philippe was overcome by the same mad excitement, and, pushing her down, +he merrily kissed her bosom. She abandoned herself to him and clung to his +shoulders with such gleeful energy that she could not remember having enjoyed +herself so much for an age past. Without letting go of him she said +caressingly: +</p> + +<p> +“I say, dearie, you ought certainly to bring me ten louis tomorrow. +It’s a bore, but there’s the baker’s bill worrying me +awfully.” +</p> + +<p> +He had grown pale. Then imprinting a final kiss on her forehead, he said +simply: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll try.” +</p> + +<p> +Silence reigned. She was dressing, and he stood pressing his forehead against +the windowpanes. A minute passed, and he returned to her and deliberately +continued: +</p> + +<p> +“Nana, you ought to marry me.” +</p> + +<p> +This notion straightway so tickled the young woman that she was unable to +finish tying on her petticoats. +</p> + +<p> +“My poor pet, you’re ill! D’you offer me your hand because I +ask you for ten louis? No, never! I’m too fond of you. Good gracious, +what a silly question!” +</p> + +<p> +And as Zoé entered in order to put her boots on, they ceased talking of the +matter. The lady’s maid at once espied the presents lying broken in +pieces on the table. She asked if she should put these things away, and, Madame +having bidden her get rid of them, she carried the whole collection off in the +folds of her dress. In the kitchen a sorting-out process began, and +Madame’s débris were shared among the servants. +</p> + +<p> +That day Georges had slipped into the house despite Nana’s orders to the +contrary. Francois had certainly seen him pass, but the servants had now got to +laugh among themselves at their good lady’s embarrassing situations. He +had just slipped as far as the little drawing room when his brother’s +voice stopped him, and, as one powerless to tear himself from the door, he +overheard everything that went on within, the kisses, the offer of marriage. A +feeling of horror froze him, and he went away in a state bordering on +imbecility, feeling as though there were a great void in his brain. It was only +in his own room above his mother’s flat in the Rue Richelieu that his +heart broke in a storm of furious sobs. This time there could be no doubt about +the state of things; a horrible picture of Nana in Philippe’s arms kept +rising before his mind’s eye. It struck him in the light of an incest. +When he fancied himself calm again the remembrance of it all would return, and +in fresh access of raging jealousy he would throw himself on the bed, biting +the coverlet, shouting infamous accusations which maddened him the more. Thus +the day passed. In order to stay shut up in his room he spoke of having a sick +headache. But the night proved more terrible still; a murder fever shook him +amid continual nightmares. Had his brother lived in the house, he would have +gone and killed him with the stab of a knife. When day returned he tried to +reason things out. It was he who ought to die, and he determined to throw +himself out of the window when an omnibus was passing. Nevertheless, he went +out toward ten o’clock and traversed Paris, wandered up and down on the +bridges and at the last moment felt an unconquerable desire to see Nana once +more. With one word, perhaps, she would save him. And three o’clock was +striking when he entered the house in the Avenue de Villiers. +</p> + +<p> +Toward noon a frightful piece of news had simply crushed Mme Hugon. Philippe +had been in prison since the evening of the previous day, accused of having +stolen twelve thousand francs from the chest of his regiment. For the last +three months he had been withdrawing small sums therefrom in the hope of being +able to repay them, while he had covered the deficit with false money. Thanks +to the negligence of the administrative committee, this fraud had been +constantly successful. The old lady, humbled utterly by her child’s +crime, had at once cried out in anger against Nana. She knew Philippe’s +connection with her, and her melancholy had been the result of this miserable +state of things which kept her in Paris in constant dread of some final +catastrophe. But she had never looked forward to such shame as this, and now +she blamed herself for refusing him money, as though such refusal had made her +accessory to his act. She sank down on an armchair; her legs were seized with +paralysis, and she felt herself to be useless, incapable of action and destined +to stay where she was till she died. But the sudden thought of Georges +comforted her. Georges was still left her; he would be able to act, perhaps to +save them. Thereupon, without seeking aid of anyone else—for she wished +to keep these matters shrouded in the bosom of her family—she dragged +herself up to the next story, her mind possessed by the idea that she still had +someone to love about her. But upstairs she found an empty room. The porter +told her that M. Georges had gone out at an early hour. The room was haunted by +the ghost of yet another calamity; the bed with its gnawed bedclothes bore +witness to someone’s anguish, and a chair which lay amid a heap of +clothes on the ground looked like something dead. Georges must be at that +woman’s house, and so with dry eyes and feet that had regained their +strength Mme Hugon went downstairs. She wanted her sons; she was starting to +reclaim them. +</p> + +<p> +Since morning Nana had been much worried. First of all it was the baker, who at +nine o’clock had turned up, bill in hand. It was a wretched story. He had +supplied her with bread to the amount of a hundred and thirty-three francs, and +despite her royal housekeeping she could not pay it. In his irritation at being +put off he had presented himself a score of times since the day he had refused +further credit, and the servants were now espousing his cause. Francois kept +saying that Madame would never pay him unless he made a fine scene; Charles +talked of going upstairs, too, in order to get an old unpaid straw bill +settled, while Victorine advised them to wait till some gentleman was with her, +when they would get the money out of her by suddenly asking for it in the +middle of conversation. The kitchen was in a savage mood: the tradesmen were +all kept posted in the course events were taking, and there were gossiping +consultations, lasting three or four hours on a stretch, during which Madame +was stripped, plucked and talked over with the wrathful eagerness peculiar to +an idle, overprosperous servants’ hall. Julien, the house steward, alone +pretended to defend his mistress. She was quite the thing, whatever they might +say! And when the others accused him of sleeping with her he laughed fatuously, +thereby driving the cook to distraction, for she would have liked to be a man +in order to “spit on such women’s backsides,” so utterly +would they have disgusted her. Francois, without informing Madame of it, had +wickedly posted the baker in the hall, and when she came downstairs at lunch +time she found herself face to face with him. Taking the bill, she told him to +return toward three o’clock, whereupon, with many foul expressions, he +departed, vowing that he would have things properly settled and get his money +by hook or by crook. +</p> + +<p> +Nana made a very bad lunch, for the scene had annoyed her. Next time the man +would have to be definitely got rid of. A dozen times she had put his money +aside for him, but it had as constantly melted away, sometimes in the purchase +of flowers, at others in the shape of a subscription got up for the benefit of +an old gendarme. Besides, she was counting on Philippe and was astonished not +to see him make his appearance with his two hundred francs. It was regular bad +luck, seeing that the day before yesterday she had again given Satin an outfit, +a perfect trousseau this time, some twelve hundred francs’ worth of +dresses and linen, and now she had not a louis remaining. +</p> + +<p> +Toward two o’clock, when Nana was beginning to be anxious, Labordette +presented himself. He brought with him the designs for the bed, and this caused +a diversion, a joyful interlude which made the young woman forget all her +troubles. She clapped her hands and danced about. After which, her heart +bursting wish curiosity, she leaned over a table in the drawing room and +examined the designs, which Labordette proceeded to explain to her. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” he said, “this is the body of the bed. In the +middle here there’s a bunch of roses in full bloom, and then comes a +garland of buds and flowers. The leaves are to be in yellow and the roses in +red-gold. And here’s the grand design for the bed’s head; Cupids +dancing in a ring on a silver trelliswork.” +</p> + +<p> +But Nana interrupted him, for she was beside herself with ecstasy. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how funny that little one is, that one in the corner, with his +behind in the air! Isn’t he now? And what a sly laugh! They’ve all +got such dirty, wicked eyes! You know, dear boy, I shall never dare play any +silly tricks before THEM!” +</p> + +<p> +Her pride was flattered beyond measure. The goldsmiths had declared that no +queen anywhere slept in such a bed. However, a difficulty presented itself. +Labordette showed her two designs for the footboard, one of which reproduced +the pattern on the sides, while the other, a subject by itself, represented +Night wrapped in her veil and discovered by a faun in all her splendid nudity. +He added that if she chose this last subject the goldsmiths intended making +Night in her own likeness. This idea, the taste of which was rather risky, made +her grow white with pleasure, and she pictured herself as a silver statuette, +symbolic of the warm, voluptuous delights of darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you will only sit for the head and shoulders,” said +Labordette. +</p> + +<p> +She looked quietly at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why? The moment a work of art’s in question I don’t mind the +sculptor that takes my likeness a blooming bit!” +</p> + +<p> +Of course it must be understood that she was choosing the subject. But at this +he interposed. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a moment; it’s six thousand francs extra.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all the same to me, by Jove!” she cried, bursting into +a laugh. “Hasn’t my little rough got the rhino?” +</p> + +<p> +Nowadays among her intimates she always spoke thus of Count Muffat, and the +gentlemen had ceased to inquire after him otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you see your little rough last night?” they used to say. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me, I expected to find the little rough here!” +</p> + +<p> +It was a simple familiarity enough, which, nevertheless, she did not as yet +venture on in his presence. +</p> + +<p> +Labordette began rolling up the designs as he gave the final explanations. The +goldsmiths, he said, were undertaking to deliver the bed in two months’ +time, toward the twenty-fifth of December, and next week a sculptor would come +to make a model for the Night. As she accompanied him to the door Nana +remembered the baker and briskly inquired: +</p> + +<p> +“By the by, you wouldn’t be having ten louis about you?” +</p> + +<p> +Labordette made it a solemn rule, which stood him in good stead, never to lend +women money. He used always to make the same reply. +</p> + +<p> +“No, my girl, I’m short. But would you like me to go to your little +rough?” +</p> + +<p> +She refused; it was useless. Two days before she had succeeded in getting five +thousand francs out of the count. However, she soon regretted her discreet +conduct, for the moment Labordette had gone the baker reappeared, though it was +barely half-past two, and with many loud oaths roughly settled himself on a +bench in the hall. The young woman listened to him from the first floor. She +was pale, and it caused her especial pain to hear the servants’ secret +rejoicings swelling up louder and louder till they even reached her ears. Down +in the kitchen they were dying of laughter. The coachman was staring across +from the other side of the court; Francois was crossing the hall without any +apparent reason. Then he hurried off to report progress, after sneering +knowingly at the baker. They didn’t care a damn for Madame; the walls +were echoing to their laughter, and she felt that she was deserted on all hands +and despised by the servants’ hall, the inmates of which were watching +her every movement and liberally bespattering her with the filthiest of chaff. +Thereupon she abandoned the intention of borrowing the hundred and thirty-three +francs from Zoé; she already owed the maid money, and she was too proud to risk +a refusal now. Such a burst of feeling stirred her that she went back into her +room, loudly remarking: +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, my girl, don’t count on anyone but yourself. Your +body’s your own property, and it’s better to make use of it than to +let yourself be insulted.” +</p> + +<p> +And without even summoning Zoé she dressed herself with feverish haste in order +to run round to the Tricon’s. In hours of great embarrassment this was +her last resource. Much sought after and constantly solicited by the old lady, +she would refuse or resign herself according to her needs, and on these +increasingly frequent occasions when both ends would not meet in her royally +conducted establishment, she was sure to find twenty-five louis awaiting her at +the other’s house. She used to betake herself to the Tricon’s with +the ease born of use, just as the poor go to the pawnshop. +</p> + +<p> +But as she left her own chamber Nana came suddenly upon Georges standing in the +middle of the drawing room. Not noticing his waxen pallor and the somber fire +in his wide eyes, she gave a sigh of relief. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you’ve come from your brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the lad, growing yet paler. +</p> + +<p> +At this she gave a despairing shrug. What did he want? Why was he barring her +way? She was in a hurry—yes, she was. Then returning to where he stood: +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve no money, have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true. How silly of me! Never a stiver; not even their +omnibus fares Mamma doesn’t wish it! Oh, what a set of men!” +</p> + +<p> +And she escaped. But he held her back; he wanted to speak to her. She was +fairly under way and again declared she had no time, but he stopped her with a +word. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, I know you’re going to marry my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +Gracious! The thing was too funny! And she let herself down into a chair in +order to laugh at her ease. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” continued the lad, “and I don’t wish it. +It’s I you’re going to marry. That’s why I’ve +come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, what? You too?” she cried. “Why, it’s a family +disease, is it? No, never! What a fancy, to be sure! Have I ever asked you to +do anything so nasty? Neither one nor t’other of you! No, never!” +</p> + +<p> +The lad’s face brightened. Perhaps he had been deceiving himself! He +continued: +</p> + +<p> +“Then swear to me that you don’t go to bed with my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’re beginning to bore me now!” said Nana, who had +risen with renewed impatience. “It’s amusing for a little while, +but when I tell you I’m in a hurry—I go to bed with your brother if +it pleases me. Are you keeping me—are you paymaster here that you insist +on my making a report? Yes, I go to bed with your brother.” +</p> + +<p> +He had caught hold of her arm and squeezed it hard enough to break it as he +stuttered: +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t say that! Don’t say that!” +</p> + +<p> +With a slight blow she disengaged herself from his grasp. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s maltreating me now! Here’s a young ruffian for you! My +chicken, you’ll leave this jolly sharp. I used to keep you about out of +niceness. Yes, I did! You may stare! Did you think I was going to be your mamma +till I died? I’ve got better things to do than to bring up brats.” +</p> + +<p> +He listened to her stark with anguish, yet in utter submission. Her every word +cut him to the heart so sharply that he felt he should die. She did not so much +as notice his suffering and continued delightedly to revenge herself on him for +the annoyance of the morning. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s like your brother; he’s another pretty Johnny, he is! +He promised me two hundred francs. Oh, dear me; yes, I can wait for ’em. +It isn’t his money I care for! I’ve not got enough to pay for hair +oil. Yes, he’s leaving me in a jolly fix! Look here, d’you want to +know how matters stand? Here goes then: it’s all owing to your brother +that I’m going out to earn twenty-five louis with another man.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words his head spun, and he barred her egress. He cried; he besought +her not to go, clasping his hands together and blurting out: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no! Oh no!” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to, I do,” she said. “Have you the money?” +</p> + +<p> +No, he had not got the money. He would have given his life to have the money! +Never before had he felt so miserable, so useless, so very childish. All his +wretched being was shaken with weeping and gave proof of such heavy suffering +that at last she noticed it and grew kind. She pushed him away softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, my pet, let me pass; I must. Be reasonable. You’re a baby +boy, and it was very nice for a week, but nowadays I must look after my own +affairs. Just think it over a bit. Now your brother’s a man; what +I’m saying doesn’t apply to him. Oh, please do me a favor; +it’s no good telling him all this. He needn’t know where I’m +going. I always let out too much when I’m in a rage.” +</p> + +<p> +She began laughing. Then taking him in her arms and kissing him on the +forehead: +</p> + +<p> +“Good-by, baby,” she said; “it’s over, quite over +between us; d’you understand? And now I’m off!” +</p> + +<p> +And she left him, and he stood in the middle of the drawing room. Her last +words rang like the knell of a tocsin in his ears: “It’s over, +quite over!” And he thought the ground was opening beneath his feet. +There was a void in his brain from which the man awaiting Nana had disappeared. +Philippe alone remained there in the young woman’s bare embrace forever +and ever. She did not deny it: she loved him, since she wanted to spare him the +pain of her infidelity. It was over, quite over. He breathed heavily and gazed +round the room, suffocating beneath a crushing weight. Memories kept recurring +to him one after the other—memories of merry nights at La Mignotte, of +amorous hours during which he had fancied himself her child, of pleasures +stolen in this very room. And now these things would never, never recur! He was +too small; he had not grown up quickly enough; Philippe was supplanting him +because he was a bearded man. So then this was the end; he could not go on +living. His vicious passion had become transformed into an infinite tenderness, +a sensual adoration, in which his whole being was merged. Then, too, how was he +to forget it all if his brother remained—his brother, blood of his blood, +a second self, whose enjoyment drove him mad with jealousy? It was the end of +all things; he wanted to die. +</p> + +<p> +All the doors remained open, as the servants noisily scattered over the house +after seeing Madame make her exit on foot. Downstairs on the bench in the hall +the baker was laughing with Charles and Francois. Zoé came running across the +drawing room and seemed surprised at sight of Georges. She asked him if he were +waiting for Madame. Yes, he was waiting for her; he had for-gotten to give her +an answer to a question. And when he was alone he set to work and searched. +Finding nothing else to suit his purpose, he took up in the dressing room a +pair of very sharply pointed scissors with which Nana had a mania for +ceaselessly trimming herself, either by polishing her skin or cutting off +little hairs. Then for a whole hour he waited patiently, his hand in his pocket +and his fingers tightly clasped round the scissors. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s Madame,” said Zoé, returning. She must have espied +her through the bedroom window. +</p> + +<p> +There was a sound of people racing through the house, and laughter died away +and doors were shut. Georges heard Nana paying the baker and speaking in the +curtest way. Then she came upstairs. +</p> + +<p> +“What, you’re here still!” she said as she noticed him. +“Aha! We’re going to grow angry, my good man!” +</p> + +<p> +He followed her as she walked toward her bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +“Nana, will you marry me?” +</p> + +<p> +She shrugged her shoulders. It was too stupid; she refused to answer any more +and conceived the idea of slamming the door in his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Nana, will you marry me?” +</p> + +<p> +She slammed the door. He opened it with one hand while he brought the other and +the scissors out of his pocket. And with one great stab he simply buried them +in his breast. +</p> + +<p> +Nana, meanwhile, had felt conscious that something dreadful would happen, and +she had turned round. When she saw him stab himself she was seized with +indignation. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what a fool he is! What a fool! And with my scissors! Will you leave +off, you naughty little rogue? Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” +</p> + +<p> +She was scared. Sinking on his knees, the boy had just given himself a second +stab, which sent him down at full length on the carpet. He blocked the +threshold of the bedroom. With that Nana lost her head utterly and screamed +with all her might, for she dared not step over his body, which shut her in and +prevented her from running to seek assistance. +</p> + +<p> +“Zoé! Zoé! Come at once. Make him leave off. It’s getting +stupid—a child like that! He’s killing himself now! And in my place +too! Did you ever see the like of it?” +</p> + +<p> +He was frightening her. He was all white, and his eyes were shut. There was +scarcely any bleeding—only a little blood, a tiny stain which was oozing +down into his waistcoat. She was making up her mind to step over the body when +an apparition sent her starting back. An old lady was advancing through the +drawing-room door, which remained wide open opposite. And in her terror she +recognized Mme Hugon but could not explain her presence. Still wearing her +gloves and hat, Nana kept edging backward, and her terror grew so great that +she sought to defend herself, and in a shaky voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” she cried, “it isn’t I; I swear to you it +isn’t. He wanted to marry me, and I said no, and he’s killed +himself!” +</p> + +<p> +Slowly Mme Hugon drew near—she was in black, and her face showed pale +under her white hair. In the carriage, as she drove thither, the thought of +Georges had vanished and that of Philippe’s misdoing had again taken +complete possession of her. It might be that this woman could afford +explanations to the judges which would touch them, and so she conceived the +project of begging her to bear witness in her son’s favor. Downstairs the +doors of the house stood open, but as she mounted to the first floor her sick +feet failed her, and she was hesitating as to which way to go when suddenly +horror-stricken cries directed her. Then upstairs she found a man lying on the +floor with bloodstained shirt. It was Georges—it was her other child. +</p> + +<p> +Nana, in idiotic tones, kept saying: +</p> + +<p> +“He wanted to marry me, and I said no, and he’s killed +himself.” +</p> + +<p> +Uttering no cry, Mme Hugon stooped down. Yes, it was the other one; it was +Georges. The one was brought to dishonor, the other murdered! It caused her no +surprise, for her whole life was ruined. Kneeling on the carpet, utterly +forgetting where she was, noticing no one else, she gazed fixedly at her +boy’s face and listened with her hand on his heart. Then she gave a +feeble sigh—she had felt the heart beating. And with that she lifted her +head and scrutinized the room and the woman and seemed to remember. A fire +glowed forth in her vacant eyes, and she looked so great and terrible in her +silence that Nana trembled as she continued to defend herself above the body +that divided them. +</p> + +<p> +“I swear it, madame! If his brother were here he could explain it to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“His brother has robbed—he is in prison,” said the mother in +a hard voice. +</p> + +<p> +Nana felt a choking sensation. Why, what was the reason of it all? The other +had turned thief now! They were mad in that family! She ceased struggling in +self-defense; she seemed no longer mistress in her own house and allowed Mme +Hugon to give what orders she liked. The servants had at last hurried up, and +the old lady insisted on their carrying the fainting Georges down to her +carriage. She preferred killing him rather than letting him remain in that +house. With an air of stupefaction Nana watched the retreating servants as they +supported poor, dear Zizi by his legs and shoulders. The mother walked behind +them in a state of collapse; she supported herself against the furniture; she +felt as if all she held dear had vanished in the void. On the landing a sob +escaped her; she turned and twice ejaculated: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but you’ve done us infinite harm! You’ve done us +infinite harm!” +</p> + +<p> +That was all. In her stupefaction Nana had sat down; she still wore her gloves +and her hat. The house once more lapsed into heavy silence; the carriage had +driven away, and she sat motionless, not knowing what to do next, her head +swimming after all she had gone through. A quarter of an hour later Count +Muffat found her thus, but at sight of him she relieved her feelings in an +overflowing current of talk. She told him all about the sad incident, repeated +the same details twenty times over, picked up the bloodstained scissors in +order to imitate Zizi’s gesture when he stabbed himself. And above all +she nursed the idea of proving her own innocence. +</p> + +<p> +“Look you here, dearie, is it my fault? If you were the judge would you +condemn me? I certainly didn’t tell Philippe to meddle with the till any +more than I urged that wretched boy to kill himself. I’ve been most +unfortunate throughout it all. They come and do stupid things in my place; they +make me miserable; they treat me like a hussy.” +</p> + +<p> +And she burst into tears. A fit of nervous expansiveness rendered her soft and +doleful, and her immense distress melted her utterly. +</p> + +<p> +“And you, too, look as if you weren’t satisfied. Now do just ask +Zoé if I’m at all mixed up in it. Zoé, do speak: explain to +Monsieur—” +</p> + +<p> +The lady’s maid, having brought a towel and a basin of water out of the +dressing room, had for some moments past been rubbing the carpet in order to +remove the bloodstains before they dried. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, monsieur,” she declared, “Madame is utterly +miserable!” +</p> + +<p> +Muffat was still stupefied; the tragedy had frozen him, and his imagination was +full of the mother weeping for her sons. He knew her greatness of heart and +pictured her in her widow’s weeds, withering solitarily away at Les +Fondettes. But Nana grew ever more despondent, for now the memory of Zizi lying +stretched on the floor, with a red hole in his shirt, almost drove her +senseless. +</p> + +<p> +“He used to be such a darling, so sweet and caressing. Oh, you know, my +pet—I’m sorry if it vexes you—I loved that baby! I +can’t help saying so; the words must out. Besides, now it ought not to +hurt you at all. He’s gone. You’ve got what you wanted; +you’re quite certain never to surprise us again.” +</p> + +<p> +And this last reflection tortured her with such regret that he ended by turning +comforter. Well, well, he said, she ought to be brave; she was quite right; it +wasn’t her fault! But she checked her lamentations of her own accord in +order to say: +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, you must run round and bring me news of him. At once! I wish +it!” +</p> + +<p> +He took his hat and went to get news of Georges. When he returned after some +three quarters of an hour he saw Nana leaning anxiously out of a window, and he +shouted up to her from the pavement that the lad was not dead and that they +even hoped to bring him through. At this she immediately exchanged grief for +excess of joy and began to sing and dance and vote existence delightful. Zoé, +meanwhile, was still dissatisfied with her washing. She kept looking at the +stain, and every time she passed it she repeated: +</p> + +<p> +“You know it’s not gone yet, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact, the pale red stain kept reappearing on one of the white +roses in the carpet pattern. It was as though, on the very threshold of the +room, a splash of blood were barring the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” said the joyous Nana. “That’ll be rubbed out +under people’s feet.” +</p> + +<p> +After the following day Count Muffat had likewise forgotten the incident. For a +moment or two, when in the cab which drove him to the Rue Richelieu, he had +busily sworn never to return to that woman’s house. Heaven was warning +him; the misfortunes of Philippe and Georges were, he opined, prophetic of his +proper ruin. But neither the sight of Mme Hugon in tears nor that of the boy +burning with fever had been strong enough to make him keep his vow, and the +short-lived horror of the situation had only left behind it a sense of secret +delight at the thought that he was now well quit of a rival, the charm of whose +youth had always exasperated him. His passion had by this time grown exclusive; +it was, indeed, the passion of a man who has had no youth. He loved Nana as one +who yearned to be her sole possessor, to listen to her, to touch her, to be +breathed on by her. His was now a supersensual tenderness, verging on pure +sentiment; it was an anxious affection and as such was jealous of the past and +apt at times to dream of a day of redemption and pardon received, when both +should kneel before God the Father. Every day religion kept regaining its +influence over him. He again became a practicing Christian; he confessed +himself and communicated, while a ceaseless struggle raged within him, and +remorse redoubled the joys of sin and of repentance. Afterward, when his +director gave him leave to spend his passion, he had made a habit of this daily +perdition and would redeem the same by ecstasies of faith, which were full of +pious humility. Very naively he offered heaven, by way of expiatory anguish, +the abominable torment from which he was suffering. This torment grew and +increased, and he would climb his Calvary with the deep and solemn feelings of +a believer, though steeped in a harlot’s fierce sensuality. That which +made his agony most poignant was this woman’s continued faithlessness. He +could not share her with others, nor did he understand her imbecile caprices. +Undying, unchanging love was what he wished for. However, she had sworn, and he +paid her as having done so. But he felt that she was untruthful, incapable of +common fidelity, apt to yield to friends, to stray passers-by, like a +good-natured animal, born to live minus a shift. +</p> + +<p> +One morning when he saw Foucarmont emerging from her bedroom at an unusual +hour, he made a scene about it. But in her weariness of his jealousy she grew +angry directly. On several occasions ere that she had behaved rather prettily. +Thus the evening when he surprised her with Georges she was the first to regain +her temper and to confess herself in the wrong. She had loaded him with +caresses and dosed him with soft speeches in order to make him swallow the +business. But he had ended by boring her to death with his obstinate refusals +to understand the feminine nature, and now she was brutal. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, yes! I’ve slept with Foucarmont. What then? +That’s flattened you out a bit, my little rough, hasn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time she had thrown “my little rough” in his +teeth. The frank directness of her avowal took his breath away, and when he +began clenching his fists she marched up to him and looked him full in the +face. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve had enough of this, eh? If it doesn’t suit you +you’ll do me the pleasure of leaving the house. I don’t want you to +go yelling in my place. Just you get it into your noodle that I mean to be +quite free. When a man pleases me I go to bed with him. Yes, I +do—that’s my way! And you must make up your mind directly. Yes or +no! If it’s no, out you may walk!” +</p> + +<p> +She had gone and opened the door, but he did not leave. That was her way now of +binding him more closely to her. For no reason whatever, at the slightest +approach to a quarrel she would tell him he might stop or go as he liked, and +she would accompany her permission with a flood of odious reflections. She said +she could always find better than he; she had only too many from whom to +choose; men in any quantity could be picked up in the street, and men a good +deal smarter, too, whose blood boiled in their veins. At this he would hang his +head and wait for those gentler moods when she wanted money. She would then +become affectionate, and he would forget it all, one night of tender dalliance +making up for the tortures of a whole week. His reconciliation with his wife +had rendered his home unbearable. Fauchery, having again fallen under +Rose’s dominion, the countess was running madly after other loves. She +was entering on the forties, that restless, feverish time in the life of women, +and ever hysterically nervous, she now filled her mansion with the maddening +whirl of her fashionable life. Estelle, since her marriage, had seen nothing of +her father; the undeveloped, insignificant girl had suddenly become a woman of +iron will, so imperious withal that Daguenet trembled in her presence. In these +days he accompanied her to mass: he was converted, and he raged against his +father-in-law for ruining them with a courtesan. M. Venot alone still remained +kindly inclined toward the count, for he was biding his time. He had even +succeeded in getting into Nana’s immediate circle. In fact, he frequented +both houses, where you encountered his continual smile behind doors. So Muffat, +wretched at home, driven out by ennui and shame, still preferred to live in the +Avenue de Villiers, even though he was abused there. +</p> + +<p> +Soon there was but one question between Nana and the count, and that was +“money.” One day after having formally promised her ten thousand +francs he had dared keep his appointment empty handed. For two days past she +had been surfeiting him with love, and such a breach of faith, such a waste of +caresses, made her ragingly abusive. She was white with fury. +</p> + +<p> +“So you’ve not got the money, eh? Then go back where you came from, +my little rough, and look sharp about it! There’s a bloody fool for you! +He wanted to kiss me again! Mark my words—no money, no nothing!” +</p> + +<p> +He explained matters; he would be sure to have the money the day after +tomorrow. But she interrupted him violently: +</p> + +<p> +“And my bills! They’ll sell me up while Monsieur’s playing +the fool. Now then, look at yourself. D’ye think I love you for your +figure? A man with a mug like yours has to pay the women who are kind enough to +put up with him. By God, if you don’t bring me that ten thousand francs +tonight you shan’t even have the tip of my little finger to suck. I mean +it! I shall send you back to your wife!” +</p> + +<p> +At night he brought the ten thousand francs. Nana put up her lips, and he took +a long kiss which consoled him for the whole day of anguish. What annoyed the +young woman was to have him continually tied to her apron strings. She +complained to M. Venot, begging him to take her little rough off to the +countess. Was their reconciliation good for nothing then? She was sorry she had +mixed herself up in it, since despite everything he was always at her heels. On +the days when, out of anger, she forgot her own interest, she swore to play him +such a dirty trick that he would never again be able to set foot in her place. +But when she slapped her leg and yelled at him she might quite as well have +spat in his face too: he would still have stayed and even thanked her. Then the +rows about money matters kept continually recurring. She demanded money +savagely; she rowed him over wretched little amounts; she was odiously stingy +with every minute of her time; she kept fiercely informing him that she slept +with him for his money, not for any other reasons, and that she did not enjoy +it a bit, that, in fact, she loved another and was awfully unfortunate in +needing an idiot of his sort! They did not even want him at court now, and +there was some talk of requiring him to send in his resignation. The empress +had said, “He is too disgusting.” It was true enough. So Nana +repeated the phrase by way of closure to all their quarrels. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here! You disgust me!” +</p> + +<p> +Nowadays she no longer minded her p’s and q’s; she had regained the +most perfect freedom. +</p> + +<p> +Every day she did her round of the lake, beginning acquaintanceships which +ended elsewhere. Here was the happy hunting ground par excellence, where +courtesans of the first water spread their nets in open daylight and flaunted +themselves amid the tolerating smiles and brilliant luxury of Paris. Duchesses +pointed her out to one another with a passing look—rich +shopkeepers’ wives copied the fashion of her hats. Sometimes her landau, +in its haste to get by, stopped a file of puissant turnouts, wherein sat +plutocrats able to buy up all Europe or Cabinet ministers with plump fingers +tight-pressed to the throat of France. She belonged to this Bois society, +occupied a prominent place in it, was known in every capital and asked about by +every foreigner. The splendors of this crowd were enhanced by the madness of +her profligacy as though it were the very crown, the darling passion, of the +nation. Then there were unions of a night, continual passages of desire, which +she lost count of the morning after, and these sent her touring through the +grand restaurants and on fine days, as often as not, to “Madrid.” +The staffs of all the embassies visited her, and she, Lucy Stewart, Caroline +Hequet and Maria Blond would dine in the society of gentlemen who murdered the +French language and paid to be amused, engaging them by the evening with orders +to be funny and yet proving so blase and so worn out that they never even +touched them. This the ladies called “going on a spree,” and they +would return home happy at having been despised and would finish the night in +the arms of the lovers of their choice. +</p> + +<p> +When she did not actually throw the men at his head Count Muffat pretended not +to know about all this. However, he suffered not a little from the lesser +indignities of their daily life. The mansion in the Avenue de Villiers was +becoming a hell, a house full of mad people, in which every hour of the day +wild disorders led to hateful complications. Nana even fought with her +servants. One moment she would be very nice with Charles, the coachman. When +she stopped at a restaurant she would send him out beer by the waiter and would +talk with him from the inside of her carriage when he slanged the cabbies at a +block in the traffic, for then he struck her as funny and cheered her up. Then +the next moment she called him a fool for no earthly reason. She was always +squabbling over the straw, the bran or the oats; in spite of her love for +animals she thought her horses ate too much. Accordingly one day when she was +settling up she accused the man of robbing her. At this Charles got in a rage +and called her a whore right out; his horses, he said, were distinctly better +than she was, for they did not sleep with everybody. She answered him in the +same strain, and the count had to separate them and give the coachman the sack. +This was the beginning of a rebellion among the servants. When her diamonds had +been stolen Victorine and Francois left. Julien himself disappeared, and the +tale ran that the master had given him a big bribe and had begged him to go, +because he slept with the mistress. Every week there were new faces in the +servants’ hall. Never was there such a mess; the house was like a passage +down which the scum of the registry offices galloped, destroying everything in +their path. Zoé alone kept her place; she always looked clean, and her only +anxiety was how to organize this riot until she had got enough together to set +up on her own account in fulfillment of a plan she had been hatching for some +time past. +</p> + +<p> +These, again, were only the anxieties he could own to. The count put up with +the stupidity of Mme Maloir, playing bezique with her in spite of her musty +smell. He put up with Mme Lerat and her encumbrances, with Louiset and the +mournful complaints peculiar to a child who is being eaten up with the +rottenness inherited from some unknown father. But he spent hours worse than +these. One evening he had heard Nana angrily telling her maid that a man +pretending to be rich had just swindled her—a handsome man calling +himself an American and owning gold mines in his own country, a beast who had +gone off while she was asleep without giving her a copper and had even taken a +packet of cigarette papers with him. The count had turned very pale and had +gone downstairs again on tiptoe so as not to hear more. But later he had to +hear all. Nana, having been smitten with a baritone in a music hall and having +been thrown over by him, wanted to commit suicide during a fit of sentimental +melancholia. She swallowed a glass of water in which she had soaked a box of +matches. This made her terribly sick but did not kill her. The count had to +nurse her and to listen to the whole story of her passion, her tearful protests +and her oaths never to take to any man again. In her contempt for those swine, +as she called them, she could not, however, keep her heart free, for she always +had some sweetheart round her, and her exhausted body inclined to +incomprehensible fancies and perverse tastes. As Zoé designedly relaxed her +efforts the service of the house had got to such a pitch that Muffat did not +dare to push open a door, to pull a curtain or to unclose a cupboard. The bells +did not ring; men lounged about everywhere and at every moment knocked up +against one another. He had now to cough before entering a room, having almost +caught the girl hanging round Francis’ neck one evening that he had just +gone out of the dressing room for two minutes to tell the coachman to put the +horses to, while her hairdresser was finishing her hair. She gave herself up +suddenly behind his back; she took her pleasure in every corner, quickly, with +the first man she met. Whether she was in her chemise or in full dress did not +matter. She would come back to the count red all over, happy at having cheated +him. As for him, he was plagued to death; it was an abominable infliction! +</p> + +<p> +In his jealous anguish the unhappy man was comparatively at peace when he left +Nana and Satin alone together. He would have willingly urged her on to this +vice, to keep the men off her. But all was spoiled in this direction too. Nana +deceived Satin as she deceived the count, going mad over some monstrous fancy +or other and picking up girls at the street corners. Coming back in her +carriage, she would suddenly be taken with a little slut that she saw on the +pavement; her senses would be captivated, her imagination excited. She would +take the little slut in with her, pay her and send her away again. Then, +disguised as a man, she would go to infamous houses and look on at scenes of +debauch to while away hours of boredom. And Satin, angry at being thrown over +every moment, would turn the house topsy-turvy with the most awful scenes. She +had at last acquired a complete ascendancy over Nana, who now respected her. +Muffat even thought of an alliance between them. When he dared not say anything +he let Satin loose. Twice she had compelled her darling to take up with him +again, while he showed himself obliging and effaced himself in her favor at the +least sign. But this good understanding lasted no time, for Satin, too, was a +little cracked. On certain days she would very nearly go mad and would smash +everything, wearing herself out in tempest of love and anger, but pretty all +the time. Zoé must have excited her, for the maid took her into corners as if +she wanted to tell her about her great design of which she as yet spoke to no +one. +</p> + +<p> +At times, however, Count Muffat was still singularly revolted. He who had +tolerated Satin for months, who had at last shut his eyes to the unknown herd +of men that scampered so quickly through Nana’s bedroom, became terribly +enraged at being deceived by one of his own set or even by an acquaintance. +When she confessed her relations with Foucarmont he suffered so acutely, he +thought the treachery of the young man so base, that he wished to insult him +and fight a duel. As he did not know where to find seconds for such an affair, +he went to Labordette. The latter, astonished, could not help laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“A duel about Nana? But, my dear sir, all Paris would be laughing at you. +Men do not fight for Nana; it would be ridiculous.” +</p> + +<p> +The count grew very pale and made a violent gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I shall slap his face in the open street.” +</p> + +<p> +For an hour Labordette had to argue with him. A blow would make the affair +odious; that evening everyone would know the real reason of the meeting; it +would be in all the papers. And Labordette always finished with the same +expression: +</p> + +<p> +“It is impossible; it would be ridiculous.” +</p> + +<p> +Each time Muffat heard these words they seemed sharp and keen as a stab. He +could not even fight for the woman he loved; people would have burst out +laughing. Never before had he felt more bitterly the misery of his love, the +contrast between his heavy heart and the absurdity of this life of pleasure in +which it was now lost. This was his last rebellion; he allowed Labordette to +convince him, and he was present afterward at the procession of his friends, +who lived there as if at home. +</p> + +<p> +Nana in a few months finished them up greedily, one after the other. The +growing needs entailed by her luxurious way of life only added fuel to her +desires, and she finished a man up at one mouthful. First she had Foucarmont, +who did not last a fortnight. He was thinking of leaving the navy, having saved +about thirty thousand francs in his ten years of service, which he wished to +invest in the United States. His instincts, which were prudential, even +miserly, were conquered; he gave her everything, even his signature to notes of +hand, which pledged his future. When Nana had done with him he was penniless. +But then she proved very kind; she advised him to return to his ship. What was +the good of getting angry? Since he had no money their relations were no longer +possible. He ought to understand that and to be reasonable. A ruined man fell +from her hands like a ripe fruit, to rot on the ground by himself. +</p> + +<p> +Then Nana took up with Steiner without disgust but without love. She called him +a dirty Jew; she seemed to be paying back an old grudge, of which she had no +distinct recollection. He was fat; he was stupid, and she got him down and took +two bites at a time in order the quicker to do for this Prussian. As for him, +he had thrown Simonne over. His Bosphorous scheme was getting shaky, and Nana +hastened the downfall by wild expenses. For a month he struggled on, doing +miracles of finance. He filled Europe with posters, advertisements and +prospectuses of a colossal scheme and obtained money from the most distant +climes. All these savings, the pounds of speculators and the pence of the poor, +were swallowed up in the Avenue de Villiers. Again he was partner in an +ironworks in Alsace, where in a small provincial town workmen, blackened with +coal dust and soaked with sweat, day and night strained their sinews and heard +their bones crack to satisfy Nana’s pleasures. Like a huge fire she +devoured all the fruits of stock-exchange swindling and the profits of labor. +This time she did for Steiner; she brought him to the ground, sucked him dry to +the core, left him so cleaned out that he was unable to invent a new roguery. +When his bank failed he stammered and trembled at the idea of prosecution. His +bankruptcy had just been published, and the simple mention of money flurried +him and threw him into a childish embarrassment. And this was he who had played +with millions. One evening at Nana’s he began to cry and asked her for a +loan of a hundred francs wherewith to pay his maidservant. And Nana, much +affected and amused at the end of this terrible old man who had squeezed Paris +for twenty years, brought it to him and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I say, I’m giving it you because it seems so funny! But listen to +me, my boy, you are too old for me to keep. You must find something else to +do.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Nana started on La Faloise at once. He had for some time been longing for +the honor of being ruined by her in order to put the finishing stroke on his +smartness. He needed a woman to launch him properly; it was the one thing still +lacking. In two months all Paris would be talking of him, and he would see his +name in the papers. Six weeks were enough. His inheritance was in landed +estate, houses, fields, woods and farms. He had to sell all, one after the +other, as quickly as he could. At every mouthful Nana swallowed an acre. The +foliage trembling in the sunshine, the wide fields of ripe grain, the vineyards +so golden in September, the tall grass in which the cows stood knee-deep, all +passed through her hands as if engulfed by an abyss. Even fishing rights, a +stone quarry and three mills disappeared. Nana passed over them like an +invading army or one of those swarms of locusts whose flight scours a whole +province. The ground was burned up where her little foot had rested. Farm by +farm, field by field, she ate up the man’s patrimony very prettily and +quite inattentively, just as she would have eaten a box of sweet-meats flung +into her lap between mealtimes. There was no harm in it all; they were only +sweets! But at last one evening there only remained a single little wood. She +swallowed it up disdainfully, as it was hardly worth the trouble opening +one’s mouth for. La Faloise laughed idiotically and sucked the top of his +stick. His debts were crushing him; he was not worth a hundred francs a year, +and he saw that he would be compelled to go back into the country and live with +his maniacal uncle. But that did not matter; he had achieved smartness; the +Figaro had printed his name twice. And with his meager neck sticking up between +the turndown points of his collar and his figure squeezed into all too short a +coat, he would swagger about, uttering his parrotlike exclamations and +affecting a solemn listlessness suggestive of an emotionless marionette. He so +annoyed Nana that she ended by beating him. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Fauchery had returned, his cousin having brought him. Poor Fauchery +had now set up housekeeping. After having thrown over the countess he had +fallen into Rose’s hands, and she treated him as a lawful wife would have +done. Mignon was simply Madame’s major-domo. Installed as master of the +house, the journalist lied to Rose and took all sorts of precautions when he +deceived her. He was as scrupulous as a good husband, for he really wanted to +settle down at last. Nana’s triumph consisted in possessing and in +ruining a newspaper that he had started with a friend’s capital. She did +not proclaim her triumph; on the contrary, she delighted in treating him as a +man who had to be circumspect, and when she spoke of Rose it was as “poor +Rose.” The newspaper kept her in flowers for two months. She took all the +provincial subscriptions; in fact, she took everything, from the column of news +and gossip down to the dramatic notes. Then the editorial staff having been +turned topsy-turvy and the management completely disorganized, she satisfied a +fanciful caprice and had a winter garden constructed in a corner of her house: +that carried off all the type. But then it was no joke after all! When in his +delight at the whole business Mignon came to see if he could not saddle +Fauchery on her altogether, she asked him if he took her for a fool. A +penniless fellow living by his articles and his plays—not if she knew it! +That sort of foolishness might be all very well for a clever woman like her +poor, dear Rose! She grew distrustful: she feared some treachery on +Mignon’s part, for he was quite capable of preaching to his wife, and so +she gave Fauchery his CONGÉ as he now only paid her in fame. +</p> + +<p> +But she always recollected him kindly. They had both enjoyed themselves so much +at the expense of that fool of à La Faloise! They would never have thought of +seeing each other again if the delight of fooling such a perfect idiot had not +egged them on! It seemed an awfully good joke to kiss each other under his very +nose. They cut a regular dash with his coin; they would send him off full speed +to the other end of Paris in order to be alone and then when he came back, they +would crack jokes and make allusions he could not understand. One day, urged by +the journalist, she bet that she would smack his face, and that she did the +very same evening and went on to harder blows, for she thought it a good joke +and was glad of the opportunity of showing how cowardly men were. She called +him her “slapjack” and would tell him to come and have his smack! +The smacks made her hands red, for as yet she was not up to the trick. La +Faloise laughed in his idiotic, languid way, though his eyes were full of +tears. He was delighted at such familiarity; he thought it simply stunning. +</p> + +<p> +One night when he had received sundry cuffs and was greatly excited: +</p> + +<p> +“Now, d’you know,” he said, “you ought to marry me. We +should be as jolly as grigs together, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +This was no empty suggestion. Seized with a desire to astonish Paris, he had +been slyly projecting this marriage. “Nana’s husband! +Wouldn’t that sound smart, eh?” Rather a stunning apotheosis that! +But Nana gave him a fine snubbing. +</p> + +<p> +“Me marry you! Lovely! If such an idea had been tormenting me I should +have found a husband a long time ago! And he’d have been a man worth +twenty of you, my pippin! I’ve had a heap of proposals. Why, look here, +just reckon ’em up with me: Philippe, Georges, Foucarmont, +Steiner—that makes four, without counting the others you don’t +know. It’s a chorus they all sing. I can’t be nice, but they +forthwith begin yelling, ‘Will you marry me? Will you marry +me?’” +</p> + +<p> +She lashed herself up and then burst out in fine indignation: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh dear, no! I don’t want to! D’you think I’m built +that way? Just look at me a bit! Why, I shouldn’t be Nana any longer if I +fastened a man on behind! And, besides, it’s too foul!” +</p> + +<p> +And she spat and hiccuped with disgust, as though she had seen all the dirt in +the world spread out beneath her. +</p> + +<p> +One evening La Faloise vanished, and a week later it became known that he was +in the country with an uncle whose mania was botany. He was pasting his +specimens for him and stood a chance of marrying a very plain, pious cousin. +Nana shed no tears for him. She simply said to the count: +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, little rough, another rival less! You’re chortling today. But +he was becoming serious! He wanted to marry me.” +</p> + +<p> +He waxed pale, and she flung her arms round his neck and hung there, laughing, +while she emphasized every little cruel speech with a caress. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t marry Nana! Isn’t that what’s fetching you, +eh? When they’re all bothering me with their marriages you’re +raging in your corner. It isn’t possible; you must wait till your wife +kicks the bucket. Oh, if she were only to do that, how you’d come rushing +round! How you’d fling yourself on the ground and make your offer with +all the grand accompaniments—sighs and tears and vows! Wouldn’t it +be nice, darling, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +Her voice had become soft, and she was chaffing him in a ferociously wheedling +manner. He was deeply moved and began blushing as he paid her back her kisses. +Then she cried: +</p> + +<p> +“By God, to think I should have guessed! He’s thought about it; +he’s waiting for his wife to go off the hooks! Well, well, that’s +the finishing touch! Why, he’s even a bigger rascal than the +others!” +</p> + +<p> +Muffat had resigned himself to “the others.” Nowadays he was +trusting to the last relics of his personal dignity in order to remain +“Monsieur” among the servants and intimates of the house, the man, +in fact, who because he gave most was the official lover. And his passion grew +fiercer. He kept his position because he paid for it, buying even smiles at a +high price. He was even robbed and he never got his money’s worth, but a +disease seemed to be gnawing his vitals from which he could not prevent himself +suffering. Whenever he entered Nana’s bedroom he was simply content to +open the windows for a second or two in order to get rid of the odors the +others left behind them, the essential smells of fair-haired men and dark, the +smoke of cigars, of which the pungency choked him. This bedroom was becoming a +veritable thoroughfare, so continually were boots wiped on its threshold. Yet +never a man among them was stopped by the bloodstain barring the door. Zoé was +still preoccupied by this stain; it was a simple mania with her, for she was a +clean girl, and it horrified her to see it always there. Despite everything her +eyes would wander in its direction, and she now never entered Madame’s +room without remarking: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s strange that don’t go. All the same, plenty of folk +come in this way.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana kept receiving the best news from Georges, who was by that time already +convalescent in his mother’s keeping at Les Fondettes, and she used +always to make the same reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, hang it, time’s all that’s wanted. It’s apt to +grow paler as feet cross it.” +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact, each of the gentlemen, whether Foucarmont, Steiner, La +Faloise or Fauchery, had borne away some of it on their bootsoles. And Muffat, +whom the bloodstain preoccupied as much as it did Zoé, kept studying it in his +own despite, as though in its gradual rosy disappearance he would read the +number of men that passed. He secretly dreaded it and always stepped over it +out of a vivid fear of crushing some live thing, some naked limb lying on the +floor. +</p> + +<p> +But in the bedroom within he would grow dizzy and intoxicated and would forget +everything—the mob of men which constantly crossed it, the sign of +mourning which barred its door. Outside, in the open air of the street, he +would weep occasionally out of sheer shame and disgust and would vow never to +enter the room again. And the moment the portière had closed behind him he was +under the old influence once more and felt his whole being melting in the damp +warm air of the place, felt his flesh penetrated by a perfume, felt himself +overborne by a voluptuous yearning for self-annihilation. Pious and habituated +to ecstatic experiences in sumptuous chapels, he there re-encountered precisely +the same mystical sensations as when he knelt under some painted window and +gave way to the intoxication of organ music and incense. Woman swayed him as +jealously and despotically as the God of wrath, terrifying him, granting him +moments of delight, which were like spasms in their keenness, in return for +hours filled with frightful, tormenting visions of hell and eternal tortures. +In Nana’s presence, as in church, the same stammering accents were his, +the same prayers and the same fits of despair—nay, the same paroxysms of +humility peculiar to an accursed creature who is crushed down in the mire from +whence he has sprung. His fleshly desires, his spiritual needs, were confounded +together and seemed to spring from the obscure depths of his being and to bear +but one blossom on the tree of his existence. He abandoned himself to the power +of love and of faith, those twin levers which move the world. And despite all +the struggles of his reason this bedroom of Nana’s always filled him with +madness, and he would sink shuddering under the almighty dominion of sex, just +as he would swoon before the vast unknown of heaven. +</p> + +<p> +Then when she felt how humble he was Nana grew tyrannously triumphant. The rage +for debasing things was inborn in her. It did not suffice her to destroy them; +she must soil them too. Her delicate hands left abominable traces and +themselves decomposed whatever they had broken. And he in his imbecile +condition lent himself to this sort of sport, for he was possessed by vaguely +remembered stories of saints who were devoured by vermin and in turn devoured +their own excrements. When once she had him fast in her room and the doors were +shut, she treated herself to a man’s infamy. At first they joked +together, and she would deal him light blows and impose quaint tasks on him, +making him lisp like a child and repeat tags of sentences. +</p> + +<p> +“Say as I do: ’tonfound it! Ickle man damn vell don’t tare +about it!” +</p> + +<p> +He would prove so docile as to reproduce her very accent. +</p> + +<p> +“’Tonfound it! Ickle man damn vell don’t tare about +it!” +</p> + +<p> +Or again she would play bear, walking on all fours on her rugs when she had +only her chemise on and turning round with a growl as though she wanted to eat +him. She would even nibble his calves for the fun of the thing. Then, getting +up again: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s your turn now; try it a bit. I bet you don’t play bear +like me.” +</p> + +<p> +It was still charming enough. As bear she amused him with her white skin and +her fell of ruddy hair. He used to laugh and go down on all fours, too, and +growl and bite her calves, while she ran from him with an affectation of +terror. +</p> + +<p> +“Are we beasts, eh?” she would end by saying. “You’ve +no notion how ugly you are, my pet! Just think if they were to see you like +that at the Tuileries!” +</p> + +<p> +But ere long these little games were spoiled. It was not cruelty in her case, +for she was still a good-natured girl; it was as though a passing wind of +madness were blowing ever more strongly in the shut-up bedroom. A storm of lust +disordered their brains, plunged them into the delirious imaginations of the +flesh. The old pious terrors of their sleepless nights were now transforming +themselves into a thirst for bestiality, a furious longing to walk on all +fours, to growl and to bite. One day when he was playing bear she pushed him so +roughly that he fell against a piece of furniture, and when she saw the lump on +his forehead she burst into involuntary laughter. After that her experiments on +La Faloise having whetted her appetite, she treated him like an animal, +threshing him and chasing him to an accompaniment of kicks. +</p> + +<p> +“Gee up! Gee up! You’re a horse. Hoi! Gee up! Won’t you hurry +up, you dirty screw?” +</p> + +<p> +At other times he was a dog. She would throw her scented handkerchief to the +far end of the room, and he had to run and pick it up with his teeth, dragging +himself along on hands and knees. +</p> + +<p> +“Fetch it, Caesar! Look here, I’ll give you what for if you +don’t look sharp! Well done, Caesar! Good dog! Nice old fellow! Now +behave pretty!” +</p> + +<p> +And he loved his abasement and delighted in being a brute beast. He longed to +sink still further and would cry: +</p> + +<p> +“Hit harder. On, on! I’m wild! Hit away!” +</p> + +<p> +She was seized with a whim and insisted on his coming to her one night clad in +his magnificent chamberlain’s costume. Then how she did laugh and make +fun of him when she had him there in all his glory, with the sword and the +cocked hat and the white breeches and the full-bottomed coat of red cloth laced +with gold and the symbolic key hanging on its left-hand skirt. This key made +her especially merry and urged her to a wildly fanciful and extremely filthy +discussion of it. Laughing without cease and carried away by her irreverence +for pomp and by the joy of debasing him in the official dignity of his costume, +she shook him, pinched him, shouted, “Oh, get along with ye, +Chamberlain!” and ended by an accompaniment of swinging kicks behind. Oh, +those kicks! How heartily she rained them on the Tuileries and the majesty of +the imperial court, throning on high above an abject and trembling people. +That’s what she thought of society! That was her revenge! It was an +affair of unconscious hereditary spite; it had come to her in her blood. Then +when once the chamberlain was undressed and his coat lay spread on the ground +she shrieked, “Jump!” And he jumped. She shrieked, +“Spit!” And he spat. With a shriek she bade him walk on the gold, +on the eagles, on the decorations, and he walked on them. Hi tiddly hi ti! +Nothing was left; everything was going to pieces. She smashed a chamberlain +just as she smashed a flask or a comfit box, and she made filth of him, reduced +him to a heap of mud at a street corner. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the goldsmiths had failed to keep their promise, and the bed was not +delivered till one day about the middle of January. Muffat was just then in +Normandy, whither he had gone to sell a last stray shred of property, but Nana +demanded four thousand francs forthwith. He was not due in Paris till the day +after tomorrow, but when his business was once finished he hastened his return +and without even paying a flying visit in the Rue Miromesnil came direct to the +Avenue de Villiers. Ten o’clock was striking. As he had a key of a little +door opening on the Rue Cardinet, he went up unhindered. In the drawing room +upstairs Zoé, who was polishing the bronzes, stood dumfounded at sight of him, +and not knowing how to stop him, she began with much circumlocution, informing +him that M. Venot, looking utterly beside himself, had been searching for him +since yesterday and that he had already come twice to beg her to send Monsieur +to his house if Monsieur arrived at Madame’s before going home. Muffat +listened to her without in the least understanding the meaning of her recital; +then he noticed her agitation and was seized by a sudden fit of jealousy of +which he no longer believed himself capable. He threw himself against the +bedroom door, for he heard the sound of laughter within. The door gave; its two +flaps flew asunder, while Zoé withdrew, shrugging her shoulders. So much the +worse for Madame! As Madame was bidding good-by to her wits, she might arrange +matters for herself. +</p> + +<p> +And on the threshold Muffat uttered a cry at the sight that was presented to +his view. +</p> + +<p> +“My God! My God!” +</p> + +<p> +The renovated bedroom was resplendent in all its royal luxury. Silver buttons +gleamed like bright stars on the tea-rose velvet of the hangings. These last +were of that pink flesh tint which the skies assume on fine evenings, when +Venus lights her fires on the horizon against the clear background of fading +daylight. The golden cords and tassels hanging in corners and the gold +lace-work surrounding the panels were like little flames of ruddy strands of +loosened hair, and they half covered the wide nakedness of the room while they +emphasized its pale, voluptuous tone. Then over against him there was the gold +and silver bed, which shone in all the fresh splendor of its chiseled +workmanship, a throne this of sufficient extent for Nana to display the +outstretched glory of her naked limbs, an altar of Byzantine sumptuousness, +worthy of the almighty puissance of Nana’s sex, which at this very hour +lay nudely displayed there in the religious immodesty befitting an idol of all +men’s worship. And close by, beneath the snowy reflections of her bosom +and amid the triumph of the goddess, lay wallowing a shameful, decrepit thing, +a comic and lamentable ruin, the Marquis de Chouard in his nightshirt. +</p> + +<p> +The count had clasped his hands together and, shaken by a paroxysmal +shuddering, he kept crying: +</p> + +<p> +“My God! My God!” +</p> + +<p> +It was for the Marquis de Chouard, then, that the golden roses flourished on +the side panels, those bunches of golden roses blooming among the golden +leaves; it was for him that the Cupids leaned forth with amorous, roguish +laughter from their tumbling ring on the silver trelliswork. And it was for him +that the faun at his feet discovered the nymph sleeping, tired with dalliance, +the figure of Night copied down to the exaggerated thighs—which caused +her to be recognizable of all—from Nana’s renowned nudity. Cast +there like the rag of something human which has been spoiled and dissolved by +sixty years of debauchery, he suggested the charnelhouse amid the glory of the +woman’s dazzling contours. Seeing the door open, he had risen up, smitten +with sudden terror as became an infirm old man. This last night of passion had +rendered him imbecile; he was entering on his second childhood; and, his speech +failing him, he remained in an attitude of flight, half-paralyzed, stammering, +shivering, his nightshirt half up his skeleton shape, and one leg outside the +clothes, a livid leg, covered with gray hair. Despite her vexation Nana could +not keep from laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Do lie down! Stuff yourself into the bed,” she said, pulling him +back and burying him under the coverlet, as though he were some filthy thing +she could not show anyone. +</p> + +<p> +Then she sprang up to shut the door again. She was decidedly never lucky with +her little rough. He was always coming when least wanted. And why had he gone +to fetch money in Normandy? The old man had brought her the four thousand +francs, and she had let him have his will of her. She pushed back the two flaps +of the door and shouted: +</p> + +<p> +“So much the worse for you! It’s your fault. Is that the way to +come into a room? I’ve had enough of this sort of thing. Ta ta!” +</p> + +<p> +Muffat remained standing before the closed door, thunderstruck by what he had +just seen. His shuddering fit increased. It mounted from his feet to his heart +and brain. Then like a tree shaken by a mighty wind, he swayed to and fro and +dropped on his knees, all his muscles giving way under him. And with hands +despairingly outstretched he stammered: +</p> + +<p> +“This is more than I can bear, my God! More than I can bear!” +</p> + +<p> +He had accepted every situation but he could do so no longer. He had come to +the end of his strength and was plunged in the dark void where man and his +reason are together overthrown. In an extravagant access of faith he raised his +hands ever higher and higher, searching for heaven, calling on God. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, I do not desire it! Oh, come to me, my God! Succor me; nay, let +me die sooner! Oh no, not that man, my God! It is over; take me, carry me away, +that I may not see, that I may not feel any longer! Oh, I belong to you, my +God! Our Father which art in heaven—” +</p> + +<p> +And burning with faith, he continued his supplication, and an ardent prayer +escaped from his lips. But someone touched him on the shoulder. He lifted his +eyes; it was M. Venot. He was surprised to find him praying before that closed +door. Then as though God Himself had responded to his appeal, the count flung +his arms round the little old gentleman’s neck. At last he could weep, +and he burst out sobbing and repeated: +</p> + +<p> +“My brother, my brother.” +</p> + +<p> +All his suffering humanity found comfort in that cry. He drenched M. +Venot’s face with tears; he kissed him, uttering fragmentary +ejaculations. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my brother, how I am suffering! You only are left me, my brother. +Take me away forever—oh, for mercy’s sake, take me away!” +</p> + +<p> +Then M. Venot pressed him to his bosom and called him “brother” +also. But he had a fresh blow in store for him. Since yesterday he had been +searching for him in order to inform him that the Countess Sabine, in a supreme +fit of moral aberration, had but now taken flight with the manager of one of +the departments in a large, fancy emporium. It was a fearful scandal, and all +Paris was already talking about it. Seeing him under the influence of such +religious exaltation, Venot felt the opportunity to be favorable and at once +told him of the meanly tragic shipwreck of his house. The count was not touched +thereby. His wife had gone? That meant nothing to him; they would see what +would happen later on. And again he was seized with anguish, and gazing with a +look of terror at the door, the walls, the ceiling, he continued pouring forth +his single supplication: +</p> + +<p> +“Take me away! I cannot bear it any longer! Take me away!” +</p> + +<p> +M. Venot took him away as though he had been a child. From that day forth +Muffat belonged to him entirely; he again became strictly attentive to the +duties of religion; his life was utterly blasted. He had resigned his position +as chamberlain out of respect for the outraged modesty of the Tuileries, and +soon Estelle, his daughter, brought an action against him for the recovery of a +sum of sixty thousand francs, a legacy left her by an aunt to which she ought +to have succeeded at the time of her marriage. Ruined and living narrowly on +the remains of his great fortune, he let himself be gradually devoured by the +countess, who ate up the husks Nana had rejected. Sabine was indeed ruined by +the example of promiscuity set her by her husband’s intercourse with the +wanton. She was prone to every excess and proved the ultimate ruin and +destruction of his very hearth. After sundry adventures she had returned home, +and he had taken her back in a spirit of Christian resignation and forgiveness. +She haunted him as his living disgrace, but he grew more and more indifferent +and at last ceased suffering from these distresses. Heaven took him out of his +wife’s hands in order to restore him to the arms of God, and so the +voluptuous pleasures he had enjoyed with Nana were prolonged in religious +ecstasies, accompanied by the old stammering utterances, the old prayers and +despairs, the old fits of humility which befit an accursed creature who is +crushed beneath the mire whence he sprang. In the recesses of churches, his +knees chilled by the pavement, he would once more experience the delights of +the past, and his muscles would twitch, and his brain would whirl deliciously, +and the satisfaction of the obscure necessities of his existence would be the +same as of old. +</p> + +<p> +On the evening of the final rupture Mignon presented himself at the house in +the Avenue de Villiers. He was growing accustomed to Fauchery and was beginning +at last to find the presence of his wife’s husband infinitely +advantageous to him. He would leave all the little household cares to the +journalist and would trust him in the active superintendence of all their +affairs. Nay, he devoted the money gained by his dramatic successes to the +daily expenditure of the family, and as, on his part, Fauchery behaved +sensibly, avoiding ridiculous jealousy and proving not less pliant than Mignon +himself whenever Rose found her opportunity, the mutual understanding between +the two men constantly improved. In fact, they were happy in a partnership +which was so fertile in all kinds of amenities, and they settled down side by +side and adopted a family arrangement which no longer proved a stumbling block. +The whole thing was conducted according to rule; it suited admirably, and each +man vied with the other in his efforts for the common happiness. That very +evening Mignon had come by Fauchery’s advice to see if he could not steal +Nana’s lady’s maid from her, the journalist having formed a high +opinion of the woman’s extraordinary intelligence. Rose was in despair; +for a month past she had been falling into the hands of inexperienced girls who +were causing her continual embarrassment. When Zoé received him at the door he +forthwith pushed her into the dining room. But at his opening sentence she +smiled. The thing was impossible, she said, for she was leaving Madame and +establishing herself on her own account. And she added with an expression of +discreet vanity that she was daily receiving offers, that the ladies were +fighting for her and that Mme Blanche would give a pile of gold to have her +back. +</p> + +<p> +Zoé was taking the Tricon’s establishment. It was an old project and had +been long brooded over. It was her ambition to make her fortune thereby, and +she was investing all her savings in it. She was full of great ideas and +meditated increasing the business and hiring a house and combining all the +delights within its walls. It was with this in view that she had tried to +entice Satin, a little pig at that moment dying in hospital, so terribly had +she done for herself. +</p> + +<p> +Mignon still insisted with his offer and spoke of the risks run in the +commercial life, but Zoé, without entering into explanations about the exact +nature of her establishment, smiled a pinched smile, as though she had just put +a sweetmeat in her mouth, and was content to remark: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, luxuries always pay. You see, I’ve been with others quite long +enough, and now I want others to be with me.” +</p> + +<p> +And a fierce look set her lip curling. At last she would be +“Madame,” and for the sake of earning a few louis all those women +whose slops she had emptied during the last fifteen years would prostrate +themselves before her. +</p> + +<p> +Mignon wished to be announced, and Zoé left him for a moment after remarking +that Madame had passed a miserable day. He had only been at the house once +before, and he did not know it at all. The dining room with its Gobelin +tapestry, its sideboard and its plate filled him with astonishment. He opened +the doors familiarly and visited the drawing room and the winter garden, +returning thence into the hall. This overwhelming luxury, this gilded +furniture, these silks and velvets, gradually filled him with such a feeling of +admiration that it set his heart beating. When Zoé came down to fetch him she +offered to show him the other rooms, the dressing room, that is to say, and the +bedroom. In the latter Mignon’s feelings overcame him; he was carried +away by them; they filled him with tender enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +That damned Nana was simply stupefying him, and yet he thought he knew a thing +or two. Amid the downfall of the house and the servants’ wild, wasteful +race to destruction, massed-up riches still filled every gaping hole and +overtopped every ruined wall. And Mignon, as he viewed this lordly monument of +wealth, began recalling to mind the various great works he had seen. Near +Marseilles they had shown him an aqueduct, the stone arches of which bestrode +an abyss, a Cyclopean work which cost millions of money and ten years of +intense labor. At Cherbourg he had seen the new harbor with its enormous works, +where hundreds of men sweated in the sun while cranes filled the sea with huge +squares of rock and built up a wall where a workman now and again remained +crushed into bloody pulp. But all that now struck him as insignificant. Nana +excited him far more. Viewing the fruit of her labors, he once more experienced +the feelings of respect that had overcome him one festal evening in a sugar +refiner’s château. This château had been erected for the refiner, and its +palatial proportions and royal splendor had been paid for by a single +material—sugar. It was with something quite different, with a little +laughable folly, a little delicate nudity—it was with this shameful +trifle, which is so powerful as to move the universe, that she alone, without +workmen, without the inventions of engineers, had shaken Paris to its +foundations and had built up a fortune on the bodies of dead men. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, by God, what an implement!” +</p> + +<p> +Mignon let the words escape him in his ecstasy, for he felt a return of +personal gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +Nana had gradually lapsed into a most mournful condition. To begin with, the +meeting of the marquis and the count had given her a severe fit of feverish +nervousness, which verged at times on laughter. Then the thought of this old +man going away half dead in a cab and of her poor rough, whom she would never +set eyes on again now that she had driven him so wild, brought on what looked +like the beginnings of melancholia. After that she grew vexed to hear about +Satin’s illness. The girl had disappeared about a fortnight ago and was +now ready to die at Lariboisière, to such a damnable state had Mme Robert +reduced her. When she ordered the horses to be put to in order that she might +have a last sight of this vile little wretch Zoé had just quietly given her a +week’s notice. The announcement drove her to desperation at once! It +seemed to her she was losing a member of her own family. Great heavens! What +was to become of her when left alone? And she besought Zoé to stay, and the +latter, much flattered by Madame’s despair, ended by kissing her to show +that she was not going away in anger. No, she had positively to go: the heart +could have no voice in matters of business. +</p> + +<p> +But that day was one of annoyances. Nana was thoroughly disgusted and gave up +the idea of going out. She was dragging herself wearily about the little +drawing room when Labordette came up to tell her of a splendid chance of buying +magnificent lace and in the course of his remarks casually let slip the +information that Georges was dead. The announcement froze her. +</p> + +<p> +“Zizi dead!” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +And involuntarily her eyes sought the pink stain on the carpet, but it had +vanished at last; passing footsteps had worn it away. Meanwhile Labordette +entered into particulars. It was not exactly known how he died. Some spoke of a +wound reopening, others of suicide. The lad had plunged, they said, into a tank +at Les Fondettes. Nana kept repeating: +</p> + +<p> +“Dead! Dead!” +</p> + +<p> +She had been choking with grief since morning, and now she burst out sobbing +and thus sought relief. Hers was an infinite sorrow: it overwhelmed her with +its depth and immensity. Labordette wanted to comfort her as touching Georges, +but she silenced him with a gesture and blurted out: +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t only he; it’s everything, everything. I’m +very wretched. Oh yes, I know! They’ll again be saying I’m a hussy. +To think of the mother mourning down there and of the poor man who was groaning +in front of my door this morning and of all the other people that are now +ruined after running through all they had with me! That’s it; punish +Nana; punish the beastly thing! Oh, I’ve got a broad back! I can hear +them as if I were actually there! ‘That dirty wench who lies with +everybody and cleans out some and drives others to death and causes a whole +heap of people pain!’” +</p> + +<p> +She was obliged to pause, for tears choked her utterance, and in her anguish +she flung herself athwart a divan and buried her face in a cushion. The +miseries she felt to be around her, miseries of which she was the cause, +overwhelmed her with a warm, continuous stream of self-pitying tears, and her +voice failed as she uttered a little girl’s broken plaint: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m wretched! Oh, I’m wretched! I can’t go on like +this: it’s choking me. It’s too hard to be misunderstood and to see +them all siding against you because they’re stronger. However, when +you’ve got nothing to reproach yourself with and your conscious is clear, +why, then I say, ‘I won’t have it! I won’t have +it!’” +</p> + +<p> +In her anger she began rebeling against circumstances, and getting up, she +dried her eyes, and walked about in much agitation. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t have it! They can say what they like, but it’s not +my fault! Am I a bad lot, eh? I give away all I’ve got; I wouldn’t +crush a fly! It’s they who are bad! Yes, it’s they! I never wanted +to be horrid to them. And they came dangling after me, and today they’re +kicking the bucket and begging and going to ruin on purpose.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she paused in front of Labordette and tapped his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here,” she said, “you were there all along; now speak +the truth: did I urge them on? Weren’t there always a dozen of ’em +squabbling who could invent the dirtiest trick? They used to disgust me, they +did! I did all I knew not to copy them: I was afraid to. Look here, I’ll +give you a single instance: they all wanted to marry me! A pretty notion, eh? +Yes, dear boy, I could have been countess or baroness a dozen times over and +more, if I’d consented. Well now, I refused because I was reasonable. Oh +yes, I saved ’em some crimes and other foul acts! They’d have +stolen, murdered, killed father and mother. I had only to say one word, and I +didn’t say it. You see what I’ve got for it today. There’s +Daguenet, for instance; I married that chap off! I made a position for the +beggarly fellow after keeping him gratis for weeks! And I met him yesterday, +and he looks the other way! Oh, get along, you swine! I’m less dirty than +you!” +</p> + +<p> +She had begun pacing about again, and now she brought her fist violently down +on a round table. +</p> + +<p> +“By God it isn’t fair! Society’s all wrong. They come down on +the women when it’s the men who want you to do things. Yes, I can tell +you this now: when I used to go with them—see? I didn’t enjoy it; +no, I didn’t enjoy it one bit. It bored me, on my honor. Well then, I ask +you whether I’ve got anything to do with it! Yes, they bored me to death! +If it hadn’t been for them and what they made of me, dear boy, I should +be in a convent saying my prayers to the good God, for I’ve always had my +share of religion. Dash it, after all, if they have dropped their money and +their lives over it, what do I care? It’s their fault. I’ve had +nothing to do with it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not,” said Labordette with conviction. +</p> + +<p> +Zoé ushered in Mignon, and Nana received him smilingly. She had cried a good +deal, but it was all over now. Still glowing with enthusiasm, he complimented +her on her installation, but she let him see that she had had enough of her +mansion and that now she had other projects and would sell everything up one of +these days. Then as he excused himself for calling on the ground that he had +come about a benefit performance in aid of old Bose, who was tied to his +armchair by paralysis, she expressed extreme pity and took two boxes. Meanwhile +Zoé announced that the carriage was waiting for Madame, and she asked for her +hat and as she tied the strings told them about poor, dear Satin’s +mishap, adding: +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to the hospital. Nobody ever loved me as she did. Oh, +they’re quite right when they accuse the men of heartlessness! Who knows? +Perhaps I shan’t see her alive. Never mind, I shall ask to see her: I +want to give her a kiss.” +</p> + +<p> +Labordette and Mignon smiled, and as Nana was no longer melancholy she smiled +too. Those two fellows didn’t count; they could enter into her feelings. +And they both stood and admired her in silent abstraction while she finished +buttoning her gloves. She alone kept her feet amid the heaped-up riches of her +mansion, while a whole generation of men lay stricken down before her. Like +those antique monsters whose redoubtable domains were covered with skeletons, +she rested her feet on human skulls. She was ringed round with catastrophes. +There was the furious immolation of Vandeuvres; the melancholy state of +Foucarmont, who was lost in the China seas; the smashup of Steiner, who now had +to live like an honest man; the satisfied idiocy of La Faloise, and the tragic +shipwreck of the Muffats. Finally there was the white corpse of Georges, over +which Philippe was now watching, for he had come out of prison but yesterday. +She had finished her labor of ruin and death. The fly that had flown up from +the ordure of the slums, bringing with it the leaven of social rottenness, had +poisoned all these men by merely alighting on them. It was well done—it +was just. She had avenged the beggars and the wastrels from whose caste she +issued. And while, metaphorically speaking, her sex rose in a halo of glory and +beamed over prostrate victims like a mounting sun shining brightly over a field +of carnage, the actual woman remained as unconscious as a splendid animal, and +in her ignorance of her mission was the good-natured courtesan to the last. She +was still big; she was still plump; her health was excellent, her spirits +capital. But this went for nothing now, for her house struck her as ridiculous. +It was too small; it was full of furniture which got in her way. It was a +wretched business, and the long and the short of the matter was she would have +to make a fresh start. In fact, she was meditating something much better, and +so she went off to kiss Satin for the last time. She was in all her finery and +looked clean and solid and as brand new as if she had never seen service +before. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"></a> CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p> +Nana suddenly disappeared. It was a fresh plunge, an escapade, a flight into +barbarous regions. Before her departure she had treated herself to a new +sensation: she had held a sale and had made a clean sweep of +everything—house, furniture, jewelry, nay, even dresses and linen. Prices +were cited—the five days’ sale produced more than six hundred +thousand francs. For the last time Paris had seen her in a fairy piece. It was +called Melusine, and it played at the Theatre de la Gaîté, which the penniless +Bordenave had taken out of sheer audacity. Here she again found herself in +company with Prullière and Fontan. Her part was simply spectacular, but it was +the great attraction of the piece, consisting, as it did, of three POSES +PLASTIQUES, each of which represented the same dumb and puissant fairy. Then +one fine morning amid his grand success, when Bordenave, who was mad after +advertisement, kept firing the Parisian imagination with colossal posters, it +became known that she must have started for Cairo the previous day. She had +simply had a few words with her manager. Something had been said which did not +please her; the whole thing was the caprice of a woman who is too rich to let +herself be annoyed. Besides, she had indulged an old infatuation, for she had +long meditated visiting the Turks. +</p> + +<p> +Months passed—she began to be forgotten. When her name was mentioned +among the ladies and gentlemen, the strangest stories were told, and everybody +gave the most contradictory and at the same time prodigious information. She +had made a conquest of the viceroy; she was reigning, in the recesses of a +palace, over two hundred slaves whose heads she now and then cut off for the +sake of a little amusement. No, not at all! She had ruined herself with a great +big nigger! A filthy passion this, which had left her wallowing without a +chemise to her back in the crapulous debauchery of Cairo. A fortnight later +much astonishment was produced when someone swore to having met her in Russia. +A legend began to be formed: she was the mistress of a prince, and her diamonds +were mentioned. All the women were soon acquainted with them from the current +descriptions, but nobody could cite the precise source of all this information. +There were finger rings, earrings, bracelets, a REVIERE of phenomenal width, a +queenly diadem surmounted by a central brilliant the size of one’s thumb. +In the retirement of those faraway countries she began to gleam forth as +mysteriously as a gem-laden idol. People now mentioned her without laughing, +for they were full of meditative respect for this fortune acquired among the +barbarians. +</p> + +<p> +One evening in July toward eight o’clock, Lucy, while getting out of her +carriage in the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore, noticed Caroline Hequet, who had +come out on foot to order something at a neighboring tradesman’s. Lucy +called her and at once burst out with: +</p> + +<p> +“Have you dined? Are you disengaged? Oh, then come with me, my dear. +Nana’s back.” +</p> + +<p> +The other got in at once, and Lucy continued: +</p> + +<p> +“And you know, my dear, she may be dead while we’re +gossiping.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead! What an idea!” cried Caroline in stupefaction. “And +where is she? And what’s it of?” +</p> + +<p> +“At the Grand Hotel, of smallpox. Oh, it’s a long story!” +</p> + +<p> +Lucy had bidden her coachman drive fast, and while the horses trotted rapidly +along the Rue Royale and the boulevards, she told what had happened to Nana in +jerky, breathless sentences. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t imagine it. Nana plumps down out of Russia. I +don’t know why—some dispute with her prince. She leaves her traps +at the station; she lands at her aunt’s—you remember the old thing. +Well, and then she finds her baby dying of smallpox. The baby dies next day, +and she has a row with the aunt about some money she ought to have sent, of +which the other one has never seen a sou. Seems the child died of that: in +fact, it was neglected and badly cared for. Very well; Nana slopes, goes to a +hotel, then meets Mignon just as she was thinking of her traps. She has all +sorts of queer feelings, shivers, wants to be sick, and Mignon takes her back +to her place and promises to look after her affairs. Isn’t it odd, eh? +Doesn’t it all happen pat? But this is the best part of the story: Rose +finds out about Nana’s illness and gets indignant at the idea of her +being alone in furnished apartments. So she rushes off, crying, to look after +her. You remember how they used to detest one another—like regular +furies! Well then, my dear, Rose has had Nana transported to the Grand Hotel, +so that she should, at any rate, die in a smart place, and now she’s +already passed three nights there and is free to die of it after. It’s +Labordette who told me all about it. Accordingly I wanted to see for +myself—” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” interrupted Caroline in great excitement +“We’ll go up to her.” +</p> + +<p> +They had arrived at their destination. On the boulevard the coachman had had to +rein in his horses amid a block of carriages and people on foot. During the day +the Corps Legislatif had voted for war, and now a crowd was streaming down all +the streets, flowing along all the pavements, invading the middle of the +roadway. Beyond the Madeleine the sun had set behind a blood-red cloud, which +cast a reflection as of a great fire and set the lofty windows flaming. +Twilight was falling, and the hour was oppressively melancholy, for now the +avenues were darkening away into the distance but were not as yet dotted over +by the bright sparks of the gas lamps. And among the marching crowds distant +voices swelled and grew ever louder, and eyes gleamed from pale faces, while a +great spreading wind of anguish and stupor set every head whirling. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s Mignon,” said Lucy. “He’ll give us +news.” +</p> + +<p> +Mignon was standing under the vast porch of the Grand Hotel. He looked nervous +and was gazing at the crowd. After Lucy’s first few questions he grew +impatient and cried out: +</p> + +<p> +“How should I know? These last two days I haven’t been able to tear +Rose away from up there. It’s getting stupid, when all’s said, for +her to be risking her life like that! She’ll be charming if she gets over +it, with holes in her face! It’ll suit us to a tee!” +</p> + +<p> +The idea that Rose might lose her beauty was exasperating him. He was giving up +Nana in the most downright fashion, and he could not in the least understand +these stupid feminine devotions. But Fauchery was crossing the boulevard, and +he, too, came up anxiously and asked for news. The two men egged each other on. +They addressed one another familiarly in these days. +</p> + +<p> +“Always the same business, my sonny,” declared Mignon. “You +ought to go upstairs; you would force her to follow you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, you’re kind, you are!” said the journalist. +“Why don’t you go upstairs yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +Then as Lucy began asking for Nana’s number, they besought her to make +Rose come down; otherwise they would end by getting angry. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, Lucy and Caroline did not go up at once. They had caught sight of +Fontan strolling about with his hands in his pockets and greatly amused by the +quaint expressions of the mob. When he became aware that Nana was lying ill +upstairs he affected sentiment and remarked: +</p> + +<p> +“The poor girl! I’ll go and shake her by the hand. What’s the +matter with her, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Smallpox,” replied Mignon. +</p> + +<p> +The actor had already taken a step or two in the direction of the court, but he +came back and simply murmured with a shiver: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, damn it!” +</p> + +<p> +The smallpox was no joke. Fontan had been near having it when he was five years +old, while Mignon gave them an account of one of his nieces who had died of it. +As to Fauchery, he could speak of it from personal experience, for he still +bore marks of it in the shape of three little lumps at the base of his nose, +which he showed them. And when Mignon again egged him on to the ascent, on the +pretext that you never had it twice, he violently combated this theory and with +infinite abuse of the doctors instanced various cases. But Lucy and Caroline +interrupted them, for the growing multitude filled them with astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Just look! Just look what a lot of people!” The night was +deepening, and in the distance the gas lamps were being lit one by one. +Meanwhile interested spectators became visible at windows, while under the +trees the human flood grew every minute more dense, till it ran in one enormous +stream from the Madeleine to the Bastille. Carriages rolled slowly along. A +roaring sound went up from this compact and as yet inarticulate mass. Each +member of it had come out, impelled by the desire to form a crowd, and was now +trampling along, steeping himself in the pervading fever. But a great movement +caused the mob to flow asunder. Among the jostling, scattering groups a band of +men in workmen’s caps and white blouses had come in sight, uttering a +rhythmical cry which suggested the beat of hammers upon an anvil. +</p> + +<p> +“To Ber-lin! To Ber-lin! To Ber-lin!” And the crowd stared in +gloomy distrust yet felt themselves already possessed and inspired by heroic +imaginings, as though a military band were passing. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, go and get your throats cut!” muttered Mignon, overcome by +an access of philosophy. +</p> + +<p> +But Fontan thought it very fine, indeed, and spoke of enlisting. When the enemy +was on the frontier all citizens ought to rise up in defense of the fatherland! +And with that he assumed an attitude suggestive of Bonaparte at Austerlitz. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, are you coming up with us?” Lucy asked him. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh dear, no! To catch something horrid?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +On a bench in front of the Grand Hotel a man sat hiding his face in a +handkerchief. On arriving Fauchery had indicated him to Mignon with a wink of +the eye. Well, he was still there; yes, he was always there. And the journalist +detained the two women also in order to point him out to them. When the man +lifted his head they recognized him; an exclamation escaped them. It was the +Count Muffat, and he was giving an upward glance at one of the windows. +</p> + +<p> +“You know, he’s been waiting there since this morning,” +Mignon informed them. “I saw him at six o’clock, and he +hasn’t moved since. Directly Labordette spoke about it he came there with +his handkerchief up to his face. Every half-hour he comes dragging himself to +where we’re standing to ask if the person upstairs is doing better, and +then he goes back and sits down. Hang it, that room isn’t healthy! +It’s all very well being fond of people, but one doesn’t want to +kick the bucket.” +</p> + +<p> +The count sat with uplifted eyes and did not seem conscious of what was going +on around him. Doubtless he was ignorant of the declaration of war, and he +neither felt nor saw the crowd. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, here he comes!” said Fauchery. “Now you’ll +see.” +</p> + +<p> +The count had, in fact, quitted his bench and was entering the lofty porch. But +the porter, who was getting to know his face at last, did not give him time to +put his question. He said sharply: +</p> + +<p> +“She’s dead, monsieur, this very minute.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana dead! It was a blow to them all. Without a word Muffat had gone back to +the bench, his face still buried in his handkerchief. The others burst into +exclamations, but they were cut short, for a fresh band passed by, howling, +“À BERLIN! À BERLIN! À BERLIN!” Nana dead! Hang it, and such a fine +girl too! Mignon sighed and looked relieved, for at last Rose would come down. +A chill fell on the company. Fontan, meditating a tragic role, had assumed a +look of woe and was drawing down the corners of his mouth and rolling his eyes +askance, while Fauchery chewed his cigar nervously, for despite his cheap +journalistic chaff he was really touched. Nevertheless, the two women continued +to give vent to their feelings of surprise. The last time Lucy had seen her was +at the Gaîté; Blanche, too, had seen her in Melusine. Oh, how stunning it was, +my dear, when she appeared in the depths of the crystal grot! The gentlemen +remembered the occasion perfectly. Fontan had played the Prince Cocorico. And +their memories once stirred up, they launched into interminable particulars. +How ripping she looked with that rich coloring of hers in the crystal grot! +Didn’t she, now? She didn’t say a word: the authors had even +deprived her of a line or two, because it was superfluous. No, never a word! It +was grander that way, and she drove her public wild by simply showing herself. +You wouldn’t find another body like hers! Such shoulders as she had, and +such legs and such a figure! Strange that she should be dead! You know, above +her tights she had nothing on but a golden girdle which hardly concealed her +behind and in front. All round her the grotto, which was entirely of glass, +shone like day. Cascades of diamonds were flowing down; strings of brilliant +pearls glistened among the stalactites in the vault overhead, and amid the +transparent atmosphere and flowing fountain water, which was crossed by a wide +ray of electric light, she gleamed like the sun with that flamelike skin and +hair of hers. Paris would always picture her thus—would see her shining +high up among crystal glass like the good God Himself. No, it was too stupid to +let herself die under such conditions! She must be looking pretty by this time +in that room up there! +</p> + +<p> +“And what a lot of pleasures bloody well wasted!” said Mignon in +melancholy tones, as became a man who did not like to see good and useful +things lost. +</p> + +<p> +He sounded Lucy and Caroline in order to find out if they were going up after +all. Of course they were going up; their curiosity had increased. Just then +Blanche arrived, out of breath and much exasperated at the way the crowds were +blocking the pavement, and when she heard the news there was a fresh outburst +of exclamations, and with a great rustling of skirts the ladies moved toward +the staircase. Mignon followed them, crying out: +</p> + +<p> +“Tell Rose that I’m waiting for her. She’ll come at once, +eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“They do not exactly know whether the contagion is to be feared at the +beginning or near the end,” Fontan was explaining to Fauchery. “A +medical I know was assuring me that the hours immediately following death are +particularly dangerous. There are miasmatic exhalations then. Ah, but I do +regret this sudden ending; I should have been so glad to shake hands with her +for the last time. +</p> + +<p> +“What good would it do you now?” said the journalist. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, what good?” the two others repeated. +</p> + +<p> +The crowd was still on the increase. In the bright light thrown from +shop-windows and beneath the wavering glare of the gas two living streams were +distinguishable as they flowed along the pavement, innumerable hats apparently +drifting on their surface. At that hour the popular fever was gaining ground +rapidly, and people were flinging themselves in the wake of the bands of men in +blouses. A constant forward movement seemed to sweep the roadway, and the cry +kept recurring; obstinately, abruptly, there rang from thousands of throats: +</p> + +<p> +“À BERLIN! À BERLIN! À BERLIN!” +</p> + +<p> +The room on the fourth floor upstairs cost twelve francs a day, since Rose had +wanted something decent and yet not luxurious, for sumptuousness is not +necessary when one is suffering. Hung with Louis XIII cretonne, which was +adorned with a pattern of large flowers, the room was furnished with the +mahogany commonly found in hotels. On the floor there was a red carpet +variegated with black foliage. Heavy silence reigned save for an occasional +whispering sound caused by voices in the corridor. +</p> + +<p> +“I assure you we’re lost. The waiter told us to turn to the right. +What a barrack of a house!” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a bit; we must have a look. Room number 401; room number +401!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s this way: 405, 403. We ought to be there. Ah, at last, +401! This way! Hush now, hush!” +</p> + +<p> +The voices were silent. Then there was a slight coughing and a moment or so of +mental preparation. Then the door opened slowly, and Lucy entered, followed by +Caroline and Blanche. But they stopped directly; there were already five women +in the room; Gaga was lying back in the solitary armchair, which was a red +velvet Voltaire. In front of the fireplace Simonne and Clarisse were now +standing talking to Léa de Horn, who was seated, while by the bed, to the left +of the door, Rose Mignon, perched on the edge of a chest, sat gazing fixedly at +the body where it lay hidden in the shadow of the curtains. All the others had +their hats and gloves on and looked as if they were paying a call: she alone +sat there with bare hands and untidy hair and cheeks rendered pale by three +nights of watching. She felt stupid in the face of this sudden death, and her +eyes were swollen with weeping. A shaded lamp standing on the corner of the +chest of drawers threw a bright flood of light over Gaga. +</p> + +<p> +“What a sad misfortune, is it not?” whispered Lucy as she shook +hands with Rose. “We wanted to bid her good-by.” +</p> + +<p> +And she turned round and tried to catch sight of her, but the lamp was too far +off, and she did not dare bring it nearer. On the bed lay stretched a gray +mass, but only the ruddy chignon was distinguishable and a pale blotch which +might be the face. Lucy added: +</p> + +<p> +“I never saw her since that time at the Gaîté, when she was at the end of +the grotto.” +</p> + +<p> +At this Rose awoke from her stupor and smiled as she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, she’s changed; she’s changed.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she once more lapsed into contemplation and neither moved nor spoke. +Perhaps they would be able to look at her presently! And with that the three +women joined the others in front of the fireplace. Simonne and Clarisse were +discussing the dead woman’s diamonds in low tones. Well, did they really +exist—those diamonds? Nobody had seen them; it must be a bit of humbug. +But Léa de Horn knew someone who knew all about them. Oh, they were monster +stones! Besides, they weren’t all; she had brought back lots of other +precious property from Russia—embroidered stuffs, for instance, valuable +knickknacks, a gold dinner service, nay, even furniture. “Yes, my dear, +fifty-two boxes, enormous cases some of them, three truckloads of them!” +They were all lying at the station. “Wasn’t it hard lines, +eh?—to die without even having time to unpack one’s traps?” +Then she had a lot of tin, besides—something like a million! Lucy asked +who was going to inherit it all. Oh, distant relations—the aunt, without +doubt! It would be a pretty surprise for that old body. She knew nothing about +it yet, for the sick woman had obstinately refused to let them warn her, for +she still owed her a grudge over her little boy’s death. Thereupon they +were all moved to pity about the little boy, and they remembered seeing him at +the races. Oh, it was a wretchedly sickly baby; it looked so old and so sad. In +fact, it was one of those poor brats who never asked to be born! +</p> + +<p> +“He’s happier under the ground,” said Blanche. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah, and so’s she!” added Caroline. “Life isn’t +so funny!” +</p> + +<p> +In that gloomy room melancholy ideas began to take possession of their +imaginations. They felt frightened. It was silly to stand talking so long, but +a longing to see her kept them rooted to the spot. It was very hot—the +lamp glass threw a round, moonlike patch of light upon the ceiling, but the +rest of the room was drowned in steamy darkness. Under the bed a deep plate +full of phenol exhaled an insipid smell. And every few moments tiny gusts of +wind swelled the window curtains. The window opened on the boulevard, whence +rose a dull roaring sound. +</p> + +<p> +“Did she suffer much?” asked Lucy, who was absorbed in +contemplation of the clock, the design of which represented the three Graces as +nude young women, smiling like opera dancers. +</p> + +<p> +Gaga seemed to wake up. +</p> + +<p> +“My word, yes! I was present when she died. I promise you it was not at +all pleasant to see. Why, she was taken with a shuddering fit—” +</p> + +<p> +But she was unable to proceed with her explanation, for a cry arose outside: +</p> + +<p> +“À BERLIN! À BERLIN! À BERLIN!” +</p> + +<p> +And Lucy, who felt suffocated, flung wide the window and leaned upon the sill. +It was pleasant there; the air came fresh from the starry sky. Opposite her the +windows were all aglow with light, and the gas sent dancing reflections over +the gilt lettering of the shop signs. +</p> + +<p> +Beneath these, again, a most amusing scene presented itself. The streams of +people were discernible rolling torrentwise along the sidewalks and in the +roadway, where there was a confused procession of carriages. Everywhere there +were vast moving shadows in which lanterns and lampposts gleamed like sparks. +But the band which now came roaring by carried torches, and a red glow streamed +down from the direction of the Madeleine, crossed the mob like a trail of fire +and spread out over the heads in the distance like a vivid reflection of a +burning house. Lucy called Blanche and Caroline, forgetting where she was and +shouting: +</p> + +<p> +“Do come! You get a capital view from this window!” +</p> + +<p> +They all three leaned out, greatly interested. The trees got in their way, and +occasionally the torches disappeared under the foliage. They tried to catch a +glimpse of the men of their own party below, but a protruding balcony hid the +door, and they could only make out Count Muffat, who looked like a dark parcel +thrown down on the bench where he sat. He was still burying his face in his +handkerchief. A carriage had stopped in front, and yet another woman hurried +up, in whom Lucy recognized Maria Blond. She was not alone; a stout man got +down after her. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s that thief of a Steiner,” said Caroline. “How is +it they haven’t sent him back to Cologne yet? I want to see how he looks +when he comes in.” +</p> + +<p> +They turned round, but when after the lapse of ten minutes Maria Blond +appeared, she was alone. She had twice mistaken the staircase. And when Lucy, +in some astonishment, questioned her: +</p> + +<p> +“What, he?” she said. “My dear, don’t you go fancying +that he’ll come upstairs! It’s a great wonder he’s escorted +me as far as the door. There are nearly a dozen of them smoking cigars.” +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact, all the gentlemen were meeting downstairs. They had come +strolling thither in order to have a look at the boulevards, and they hailed +one another and commented loudly on that poor girl’s death. Then they +began discussing politics and strategy. Bordenave, Daguenet, Labordette, +Prullière and others, besides, had swollen the group, and now they were all +listening to Fontan, who was explaining his plan for taking Berlin within a +week. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Maria Blond was touched as she stood by the bedside and murmured, as +the others had done before her: +</p> + +<p> +“Poor pet! The last time I saw her was in the grotto at the Gaîté.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, she’s changed; she’s changed!” Rose Mignon +repeated with a smile of gloomiest dejection. +</p> + +<p> +Two more women arrived. These were Tatan Nene and Louise Violaine. They had +been wandering about the Grand Hotel for twenty minutes past, bandied from +waiter to waiter, and had ascended and descended more than thirty flights of +stairs amid a perfect stampede of travelers who were hurrying to leave Paris +amid the panic caused by the war and the excitement on the boulevards. +Accordingly they just dropped down on chairs when they came in, for they were +too tired to think about the dead. At that moment a loud noise came from the +room next door, where people were pushing trunks about and striking against +furniture to an accompaniment of strident, outlandish syllables. It was a young +Austrian couple, and Gaga told how during her agony the neighbors had played a +game of catch as catch can and how, as only an unused door divided the two +rooms, they had heard them laughing and kissing when one or the other was +caught. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, it’s time we were off,” said Clarisse. “We +shan’t bring her to life again. Are you coming, Simonne?” +</p> + +<p> +They all looked at the bed out of the corners of their eyes, but they did not +budge an inch. Nevertheless, they began getting ready and gave their skirts +various little pats. Lucy was again leaning out of window. She was alone now, +and a sorrowful feeling began little by little to overpower her, as though an +intense wave of melancholy had mounted up from the howling mob. Torches still +kept passing, shaking out clouds of sparks, and far away in the distance the +various bands stretched into the shadows, surging unquietly to and fro like +flocks being driven to the slaughterhouse at night. A dizzy feeling emanated +from these confused masses as the human flood rolled them along—a dizzy +feeling, a sense of terror and all the pity of the massacres to come. The +people were going wild; their voices broke; they were drunk with a fever of +excitement which sent them rushing toward the unknown “out there” +beyond the dark wall of the horizon. +</p> + +<p> +“À BERLIN! À BERLIN! À BERLIN!” +</p> + +<p> +Lucy turned round. She leaned her back against the window, and her face was +very pale. +</p> + +<p> +“Good God! What’s to become of us?” +</p> + +<p> +The ladies shook their heads. They were serious and very anxious about the turn +events were taking. +</p> + +<p> +“For my part,” said Caroline Hequet in her decisive way, “I +start for London the day after tomorrow. Mamma’s already over there +getting a house ready for me. I’m certainly not going to let myself be +massacred in Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +Her mother, as became a prudent woman, had invested all her daughters’ +money in foreign lands. One never knows how a war may end! But Maria Blond grew +vexed at this. She was a patriot and spoke of following the army. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a coward for you! Yes, if they wanted me I should put on +man’s clothes just to have a good shot at those pigs of Prussians! And if +we all die after? What of that? Our wretched skins aren’t so +valuable!” +</p> + +<p> +Blanche de Sivry was exasperated. +</p> + +<p> +“Please don’t speak ill of the Prussians! They are just like other +men, and they’re not always running after the women, like your Frenchmen. +They’ve just expelled the little Prussian who was with me. He was an +awfully rich fellow and so gentle: he couldn’t have hurt a soul. +It’s disgraceful; I’m ruined by it. And, you know, you +mustn’t say a word or I go and find him out in Germany!” +</p> + +<p> +After that, while the two were at loggerheads, Gaga began murmuring in dolorous +tones: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all over with me; my luck’s always bad. It’s only +a week ago that I finished paying for my little house at Juvisy. Ah, God knows +what trouble it cost me! I had to go to Lili for help! And now here’s the +war declared, and the Prussians’ll come and they’ll burn +everything. How am I to begin again at my time of life, I should like to +know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” said Clarisse. “I don’t care a damn about it. I +shall always find what I want.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly you will,” added Simonne. “It’ll be a joke. +Perhaps, after all, it’ll be good biz.” +</p> + +<p> +And her smile hinted what she thought. Tatan Nene and Louise Violaine were of +her opinion. The former told them that she had enjoyed the most roaring jolly +good times with soldiers. Oh, they were good fellows and would have done any +mortal thing for the girls. But as the ladies had raised their voices unduly +Rose Mignon, still sitting on the chest by the bed, silenced them with a softly +whispered “Hush!” They stood quite still at this and glanced +obliquely toward the dead woman, as though this request for silence had +emanated from the very shadows of the curtains. In the heavy, peaceful +stillness which ensued, a void, deathly stillness which made them conscious of +the stiff dead body lying stretched close by them, the cries of the mob burst +forth: +</p> + +<p> +“À BERLIN! À BERLIN! À BERLIN!” +</p> + +<p> +But soon they forgot. Léa de Horn, who had a political salon where former +ministers of Louis Philippe were wont to indulge in delicate epigrams, shrugged +her shoulders and continued the conversation in a low tone: +</p> + +<p> +“What a mistake this war is! What a bloodthirsty piece of +stupidity!” +</p> + +<p> +At this Lucy forthwith took up the cudgels for the empire. She had been the +mistress of a prince of the imperial house, and its defense became a point of +family honor with her. +</p> + +<p> +“Do leave them alone, my dear. We couldn’t let ourselves be further +insulted! Why, this war concerns the honor of France. Oh, you know I +don’t say that because of the prince. He WAS just mean! Just imagine, at +night when he was going to bed he hid his gold in his boots, and when we played +at bezique he used beans, because one day I pounced down on the stakes for fun. +But that doesn’t prevent my being fair. The emperor was right.” +</p> + +<p> +Léa shook her head with an air of superiority, as became a woman who was +repeating the opinions of important personages. Then raising her voice: +</p> + +<p> +“This is the end of all things. They’re out of their minds at the +Tuileries. France ought to have driven them out yesterday. Don’t you +see?” +</p> + +<p> +They all violently interrupted her. What was up with her? Was she mad about the +emperor? Were people not happy? Was business doing badly? Paris would never +enjoy itself so thoroughly again. +</p> + +<p> +Gaga was beside herself; she woke up and was very indignant. +</p> + +<p> +“Be quiet! It’s idiotic! You don’t know what you’re +saying. I—I’ve seen Louis Philippe’s reign: it was full of +beggars and misers, my dear. And then came ’48! Oh, it was a pretty +disgusting business was their republic! After February I was simply dying of +starvation—yes, I, Gaga. Oh, if only you’d been through it all you +would go down on your knees before the emperor, for he’s been a father to +us; yes, a father to us.” +</p> + +<p> +She had to be soothed but continued with pious fervor: +</p> + +<p> +“O my God, do Thy best to give the emperor the victory. Preserve the +empire to us!” +</p> + +<p> +They all repeated this aspiration, and Blanche confessed that she burned +candles for the emperor. Caroline had been smitten by him and for two whole +months had walked where he was likely to pass but had failed to attract his +attention. And with that the others burst forth into furious denunciations of +the Republicans and talked of exterminating them on the frontiers so that +Napoleon III, after having beaten the enemy, might reign peacefully amid +universal enjoyment. +</p> + +<p> +“That dirty Bismarck—there’s another cad for you!” +Maria Blond remarked. +</p> + +<p> +“To think that I should have known him!” cried Simonne. “If +only I could have foreseen, I’m the one that would have put some poison +in his glass.” +</p> + +<p> +But Blanche, on whose heart the expulsion of her Prussian still weighed, +ventured to defend Bismarck. Perhaps he wasn’t such a bad sort. To every +man his trade! +</p> + +<p> +“You know,” she added, “he adores women.” +</p> + +<p> +“What the hell has that got to do with us?” said Clarisse. +“We don’t want to cuddle him, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s always too many men of that sort!” declared Louise +Violaine gravely. “It’s better to do without ’em than to mix +oneself up with such monsters!” +</p> + +<p> +And the discussion continued, and they stripped Bismarck, and, in her +Bonapartist zeal, each of them gave him a sounding kick, while Tatan Nene kept +saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Bismarck! Why, they’ve simply driven me crazy with the chap! Oh, I +hate him! I didn’t know that there Bismarck! One can’t know +everybody.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” said Léa de Horn by way of conclusion, “that +Bismarck will give us a jolly good threshing.” +</p> + +<p> +But she could not continue. The ladies were all down on her at once. Eh, what? +A threshing? It was Bismarck they were going to escort home with blows from the +butt ends of their muskets. What was this bad Frenchwoman going to say next? +</p> + +<p> +“Hush,” whispered Rose, for so much noise hurt her. +</p> + +<p> +The cold influence of the corpse once more overcame them, and they all paused +together. They were embarrassed; the dead woman was before them again; a dull +thread of coming ill possessed them. On the boulevard the cry was passing, +hoarse and wild: +</p> + +<p> +“À BERLIN! À BERLIN! À BERLIN!” +</p> + +<p> +Presently, when they were making up their minds to go, a voice was heard +calling from the passage: +</p> + +<p> +“Rose! Rose!” +</p> + +<p> +Gaga opened the door in astonishment and disappeared for a moment. When she +returned: +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” she said, “it’s Fauchery. He’s out +there at the end of the corridor. He won’t come any further, and +he’s beside himself because you still stay near that body.” +</p> + +<p> +Mignon had at last succeeded in urging the journalist upstairs. Lucy, who was +still at the window, leaned out and caught sight of the gentlemen out on the +pavement. They were looking up, making energetic signals to her. Mignon was +shaking his fists in exasperation, and Steiner, Fontan, Bordenave and the rest +were stretching out their arms with looks of anxious reproach, while Daguenet +simply stood smoking a cigar with his hands behind his back, so as not to +compromise himself. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s true, dear,” said Lucy, leaving the window open; +“I promised to make you come down. They’re all calling us +now.” +</p> + +<p> +Rose slowly and painfully left the chest. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m coming down; I’m coming down,” she whispered. +“It’s very certain she no longer needs me. They’re going to +send in a Sister of Mercy.” +</p> + +<p> +And she turned round, searching for her hat and shawl. Mechanically she filled +a basin of water on the toilet table and while washing her hands and face +continued: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know! It’s been a great blow to me. We used scarcely +to be nice to one another. Ah well! You see I’m quite silly over it now. +Oh! I’ve got all sorts of strange ideas—I want to die +myself—I feel the end of the world’s coming. Yes, I need +air.” +</p> + +<p> +The corpse was beginning to poison the atmosphere of the room. And after long +heedlessness there ensued a panic. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s be off; let’s be off, my little pets!” Gaga kept +saying. “It isn’t wholesome here.” +</p> + +<p> +They went briskly out, casting a last glance at the bed as they passed it. But +while Lucy, Blanche and Caroline still remained behind, Rose gave a final look +round, for she wanted to leave the room in order. She drew a curtain across the +window, and then it occurred to her that the lamp was not the proper thing and +that a taper should take its place. So she lit one of the copper candelabra on +the chimney piece and placed it on the night table beside the corpse. A +brilliant light suddenly illumined the dead woman’s face. The women were +horror-struck. They shuddered and escaped. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, she’s changed; she’s changed!” murmured Rose +Mignon, who was the last to remain. +</p> + +<p> +She went away; she shut the door. Nana was left alone with upturned face in the +light cast by the candle. She was fruit of the charnel house, a heap of matter +and blood, a shovelful of corrupted flesh thrown down on the pillow. The +pustules had invaded the whole of the face, so that each touched its neighbor. +Fading and sunken, they had assumed the grayish hue of mud; and on that +formless pulp, where the features had ceased to be traceable, they already +resembled some decaying damp from the grave. One eye, the left eye, had +completely foundered among bubbling purulence, and the other, which remained +half open, looked like a deep, black, ruinous hole. The nose was still +suppurating. Quite a reddish crush was peeling from one of the cheeks and +invading the mouth, which it distorted into a horrible grin. And over this +loathsome and grotesque mask of death the hair, the beautiful hair, still +blazed like sunlight and flowed downward in rippling gold. Venus was rotting. +It seemed as though the poison she had assimilated in the gutters and on the +carrion tolerated by the roadside, the leaven with which she had poisoned a +whole people, had but now remounted to her face and turned it to corruption. +</p> + +<p> +The room was empty. A great despairing breath came up from the boulevard and +swelled the curtain. +</p> + +<p> +“À BERLIN! À BERLIN! À BERLIN!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"></a> THE MILLER’S +DAUGHTER</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"></a> CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3> THE BETROTHAL</h3> + +<p> +Père Merlier’s mill, one beautiful summer evening, was arranged for a +grand fête. In the courtyard were three tables, placed end to end, which +awaited the guests. Everyone knew that Francoise, Merlier’s daughter, was +that night to be betrothed to Dominique, a young man who was accused of +idleness but whom the fair sex for three leagues around gazed at with sparkling +eyes, such a fine appearance had he. +</p> + +<p> +Père Merlier’s mill was pleasing to look upon. It stood exactly in the +center of Rocreuse, where the highway made an elbow. The village had but one +street, with two rows of huts, a row on each side of the road; but at the elbow +meadows spread out, and huge trees which lined the banks of the Morelle covered +the extremity of the valley with lordly shade. There was not, in all Lorraine, +a corner of nature more adorable. To the right and to the left thick woods, +centenarian forests, towered up from gentle slopes, filling the horizon with a +sea of verdure, while toward the south the plain stretched away, of marvelous +fertility, displaying as far as the eye could reach patches of ground divided +by green hedges. But what constituted the special charm of Rocreuse was the +coolness of that cut of verdure in the most sultry days of July and August. The +Morelle descended from the forests of Gagny and seemed to have gathered the +cold from the foliage beneath which it flowed for leagues; it brought with it +the murmuring sounds, the icy and concentrated shade of the woods. And it was +not the sole source of coolness: all sorts of flowing streams gurgled through +the forest; at each step springs bubbled up; one felt, on following the narrow +pathways, that there must exist subterranean lakes which pierced through +beneath the moss and availed themselves of the smallest crevices at the feet of +trees or between the rocks to burst forth in crystalline fountains. The +whispering voices of these brooks were so numerous and so loud that they +drowned the song of the bullfinches. It was like some enchanted park with +cascades falling from every portion. +</p> + +<p> +Below the meadows were damp. Gigantic chestnut trees cast dark shadows. On the +borders of the meadows long hedges of poplars exhibited in lines their rustling +branches. Two avenues of enormous plane trees stretched across the fields +toward the ancient Château de Gagny, then a mass of ruins. In this constantly +watered district the grass grew to an extraordinary height. It resembled a +garden between two wooded hills, a natural garden, of which the meadows were +the lawns, the giant trees marking the colossal flower beds. When the +sun’s rays at noon poured straight downward the shadows assumed a bluish +tint; scorched grass slept in the heat, while an icy shiver passed beneath the +foliage. +</p> + +<p> +And there it was that Père Merlier’s mill enlivened with its ticktack a +corner of wild verdure. The structure, built of plaster and planks, seemed as +old as the world. It dipped partially in the Morelle, which rounded at that +point into a transparent basin. A sluice had been made, and the water fell from +a height of several meters upon the mill wheel, which cracked as it turned, +with the asthmatic cough of a faithful servant grown old in the house. When +Père Merlier was advised to change it he shook his head, saying that a new +wheel would be lazier and would not so well understand the work, and he mended +the old one with whatever he could put his hands on: cask staves, rusty iron, +zinc and lead. The wheel appeared gayer than ever for it, with its profile +grown odd, all plumed with grass and moss. When the water beat upon it with its +silvery flood it was covered with pearls; its strange carcass wore a sparkling +attire of necklaces of mother-of-pearl. +</p> + +<p> +The part of the mill which dipped in the Morelle had the air of a barbaric arch +stranded there. A full half of the structure was built on piles. The water +flowed beneath the floor, and deep places were there, renowned throughout the +district for the enormous eels and crayfish caught in them. Below the fall the +basin was as clear as a mirror, and when the wheel did not cover it with foam +schools of huge fish could be seen swimming with the slowness of a squadron. +Broken steps led down to the river near a stake to which a boat was moored. A +wooden gallery passed above the wheel. Windows opened, pierced irregularly. It +was a pell-mell of corners, of little walls, of constructions added too late, +of beams and of roofs, which gave the mill the aspect of an old, dismantled +citadel. But ivy had grown; all sorts of clinging plants stopped the too-wide +chinks and threw a green cloak over the ancient building. The young ladies who +passed by sketched Père Merlier’s mill in their albums. +</p> + +<p> +On the side facing the highway the structure was more solid. A stone gateway +opened upon the wide courtyard, which was bordered to the right and to the left +by sheds and stables. Beside a well an immense elm covered half the courtyard +with its shadow. In the background the building displayed the four windows of +its second story, surmounted by a pigeon house. Père Merlier’s sole +vanity was to have this front plastered every ten years. It had just received a +new coating and dazzled the village when the sun shone on it at noon. +</p> + +<p> +For twenty years Père Merlier had been mayor of Rocreuse. He was esteemed for +the fortune he had acquired. His wealth was estimated at something like eighty +thousand francs, amassed sou by sou. When he married Madeleine Guillard, who +brought him the mill as her dowry, he possessed only his two arms. But +Madeleine never repented of her choice, so briskly did he manage the business. +Now his wife was dead, and he remained a widower with his daughter Francoise. +Certainly he might have rested, allowed the mill wheel to slumber in the moss, +but that would have been too dull for him, and in his eyes the building would +have seemed dead. He toiled on for pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +Père Merlier was a tall old man with a long, still face, who never laughed but +who possessed, notwithstanding, a very gay heart. He had been chosen mayor +because of his money and also on account of the imposing air he could assume +during a marriage ceremony. +</p> + +<p> +Francoise Merlier was just eighteen. She did not pass for one of the handsome +girls of the district, as she was not robust. Up to her fifteenth year she had +been even ugly. +</p> + +<p> +The Rocreuse people had not been able to understand why the daughter of Père +and Mere Merlier, both of whom had always enjoyed excellent health, grew ill +and with an air of regret. But at fifteen, though yet delicate, her little face +became one of the prettiest in the world. She had black hair, black eyes, and +was as rosy as a peach; her lips constantly wore a smile; there were dimples in +her cheeks, and her fair forehead seemed crowned with sunlight. Although not +considered robust in the district, she was far from thin; the idea was simply +that she could not lift a sack of grain, but she would become plump as she grew +older—she would eventually be as round and dainty as a quail. Her +father’s long periods of silence had made her thoughtful very young. If +she smiled constantly it was to please others. By nature she was serious. +</p> + +<p> +Of course all the young men of the district paid court to her, more on account +of her ecus than her pretty ways. At last she made a choice which scandalized +the community. +</p> + +<p> +On the opposite bank of the Morelle lived a tall youth named Dominique Penquer. +He did not belong to Rocreuse. Ten years before he had arrived from Belgium as +the heir of his uncle, who had left him a small property upon the very border +of the forest of Gagny, just opposite the mill, a few gunshots distant. He had +come to sell this property, he said, and return home. But the district charmed +him, it appeared, for he did not quit it. He was seen cultivating his little +field, gathering a few vegetables upon which he subsisted. He fished and +hunted; many times the forest guards nearly caught him and were on the point of +drawing up procès-verbaux against him. This free existence, the resources of +which the peasants could not clearly discover, at length gave him a bad +reputation. He was vaguely styled a poacher. At any rate, he was lazy, for he +was often found asleep on the grass when he should have been at work. The hut +he inhabited beneath the last trees on the edge of the forest did not seem at +all like the dwelling of an honest young fellow. If he had had dealings with +the wolves of the ruins of Gagny the old women would not have been the least +bit surprised. Nevertheless, the young girls sometimes risked defending him, +for this doubtful man was superb; supple and tall as a poplar, he had a very +white skin, with flaxen hair and beard which gleamed like gold in the sun. +</p> + +<p> +One fine morning Francoise declared to Père Merlier that she loved Dominique +and would never wed any other man. +</p> + +<p> +It may well be imagined what a blow this was to Père Merlier. He said nothing, +according to his custom, but his face grew thoughtful and his internal gaiety +no longer sparkled in his eyes. He looked gruff for a week. Francoise also was +exceedingly grave. What tormented Père Merlier was to find out how this rogue +of a poacher had managed to fascinate his daughter. Dominique had never visited +the mill. The miller watched and saw the gallant on the other side of the +Morelle, stretched out upon the grass and feigning to be asleep. Francoise +could see him from her chamber window. Everything was plain: they had fallen in +love by casting sheep’s eyes at each other over the mill wheel. +</p> + +<p> +Another week went by. Francoise became more and more grave. Père Merlier still +said nothing. Then one evening he himself silently brought in Dominique. +Francoise at that moment was setting the table. She did not seem astonished; +she contented herself with putting on an additional plate, knife and fork, but +the little dimples were again seen in her cheeks, and her smile reappeared. +That morning Père Merlier had sought out Dominique in his hut on the border of +the wood. +</p> + +<p> +There the two men had talked for three hours with doors and windows closed. +What was the purport of their conversation no one ever knew. Certain it was, +however, that Père Merlier, on taking his departure, already called Dominique +his son-in-law. Without doubt the old man had found the youth he had gone to +seek a worthy youth in the lazy fellow who stretched himself out upon the grass +to make the girls fall in love with him. +</p> + +<p> +All Rocreuse clamored. The women at the doors had plenty to say on the subject +of the folly of Père Merlier, who had thus introduced a reprobate into his +house. The miller let people talk on. Perhaps he remembered his own marriage. +He was without a sou when he wedded Madeleine and her mill; this, however, had +not prevented him from making a good husband. Besides, Dominique cut short the +gossip by going so vigorously to work that all the district was amazed. The +miller’s assistant had just been drawn to serve as a soldier, and +Dominique would not suffer another to be engaged. He carried the sacks, drove +the cart, fought with the old mill wheel when it refused to turn, and all this +with such good will that people came to see him out of curiosity. Père Merlier +had his silent laugh. He was excessively proud of having formed a correct +estimate of this youth. There is nothing like love to give courage to young +folks. Amid all these heavy labors Francoise and Dominique adored each other. +They did not indulge in lovers’ talks, but there was a smiling gentleness +in their glances. +</p> + +<p> +Up to that time Père Merlier had not spoken a single word on the subject of +marriage, and they respected this silence, awaiting the old man’s will. +Finally one day toward the middle of July he caused three tables to be placed +in the courtyard, beneath the great elm, and invited his friends of Rocreuse to +come in the evening and drink a glass of wine with him. +</p> + +<p> +When the courtyard was full and all had their glasses in their hands, Père +Merlier raised his very high and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I have the pleasure to announce to you that Francoise will wed this +young fellow here in a month, on Saint Louis’s Day.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they drank noisily. Everybody smiled. But Père Merlier, again lifting his +voice, exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Dominique, embrace your fiancee. It is your right.” +</p> + +<p> +They embraced, blushing to the tips of their ears, while all the guests laughed +joyously. It was a genuine fête. They emptied a small cask of wine. Then when +all were gone but intimate friends the conversation was carried on without +noise. The night had fallen, a starry and cloudless night. Dominique and +Francoise, seated side by side on a bench, said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +An old peasant spoke of the war the emperor had declared against Prussia. All +the village lads had already departed. On the preceding day troops had again +passed through the place. There was going to be hard fighting. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah!” said Père Merlier with the selfishness of a happy man. +“Dominique is a foreigner; he will not go to the war. And if the +Prussians come here he will be on hand to defend his wife!” +</p> + +<p> +The idea that the Prussians might come there seemed a good joke. They were +going to receive a sound whipping, and the affair would soon be over. +</p> + +<p> +“I have afready seen them; I have already seen them,” repeated the +old peasant in a hollow voice. +</p> + +<p> +There was silence. Then they drank again. Francoise and Dominique had heard +nothing; they had gently taken each other by the hand behind the bench, so that +nobody could see them, and it seemed so delightful that they remained where +they were, their eyes plunged into the depths of the shadows. +</p> + +<p> +What a warm and superb night it was! The village slumbered on both edges of the +white highway in infantile quietude. From time to time was heard the crowing of +some chanticleer aroused too soon. From the huge wood near by came long +breaths, which passed over the roofs like caresses. The meadows, with their +dark shadows, assumed a mysterious and dreamy majesty, while all the springs, +all the flowing waters which gurgled in the darkness, seemed to be the cool and +rhythmical respiration of the sleeping country. Occasionally the ancient mill +wheel, lost in a doze, appeared to dream like those old watchdogs that bark +while snoring; it cracked; it talked to itself, rocked by the fall of the +Morelle, the surface of which gave forth the musical and continuous sound of an +organ pipe. Never had more profound peace descended upon a happier corner of +nature. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"></a> CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3> THE ATTACK ON THE MILL</h3> + +<p> +A month later, on the day preceding that of Saint Louis, Rocreuse was in a +state of terror. The Prussians had beaten the emperor and were advancing by +forced marches toward the village. For a week past people who hurried along the +highway had been announcing them thus: “They are at Lormiere—they +are at Novelles!” And on hearing that they were drawing near so rapidly, +Rocreuse every morning expected to see them descend from the wood of Gagny. +They did not come, however, and that increased the fright. They would surely +fall upon the village during the night and slaughter everybody. +</p> + +<p> +That morning, a little before sunrise, there was an alarm. The inhabitants were +awakened by the loud tramp of men on the highway. The women were already on +their knees, making the sign of the cross, when some of the people, peering +cautiously through the partially opened windows, recognized the red pantaloons. +It was a French detachment. The captain immediately asked for the mayor of the +district and remained at the mill after having talked with Père Merlier. +</p> + +<p> +The sun rose gaily that morning. It would be hot at noon. Over the wood floated +a golden brightness, while in the distance white vapors arose from the meadows. +The neat and pretty village awoke amid the fresh air, and the country, with its +river and its springs, had the moist sweetness of a bouquet. But that beautiful +day caused nobody to smile. The captain was seen to take a turn around the +mill, examine the neighboring houses, pass to the other side of the Morelle and +from there study the district with a field glass; Père Merlier, who accompanied +him, seemed to be giving him explanations. Then the captain posted soldiers +behind the walls, behind the trees and in the ditches. The main body of the +detachment encamped in the courtyard of the mill. Was there going to be a +battle? When Père Merlier returned he was questioned. He nodded his head +without speaking. Yes, there was going to be a battle! +</p> + +<p> +Francoise and Dominique were in the courtyard; they looked at him. At last he +took his pipe from his mouth and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my poor young ones, you cannot get married tomorrow!” +</p> + +<p> +Dominique, his lips pressed together, with an angry frown on his forehead, at +times raised himself on tiptoe and fixed his eyes upon the wood of Gagny, as if +he wished to see the Prussians arrive. Francoise, very pale and serious, came +and went, furnishing the soldiers with what they needed. The troops were making +soup in a corner of the courtyard; they joked while waiting for it to get +ready. +</p> + +<p> +The captain was delighted. He had visited the chambers and the huge hall of the +mill which looked out upon the river. Now, seated beside the well, he was +conversing with Père Merlier. +</p> + +<p> +“Your mill is a real fortress,” he said. “We can hold it +without difficulty until evening. The bandits are late. They ought to be +here.” +</p> + +<p> +The miller was grave. He saw his mill burning like a torch, but he uttered no +complaint, thinking such a course useless. He merely said: +</p> + +<p> +“You had better hide the boat behind the wheel; there is a place there +just fit for that purpose. Perhaps it will be useful to have the boat.” +</p> + +<p> +The captain gave the requisite order. This officer was a handsome man of forty; +he was tall and had an amiable countenance. The sight of Francoise and +Dominique seemed to please him. He contemplated them as if he had forgotten the +coming struggle. He followed Francoise with his eyes, and his look told plainly +that he thought her charming. Then turning toward Dominique, he asked suddenly: +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you not in the army, my good fellow?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am a foreigner,” answered the young man. +</p> + +<p> +The captain evidently did not attach much weight to this reason. He winked his +eye and smiled. Francoise was more agreeable company than a cannon. On seeing +him smile, Dominique added: +</p> + +<p> +“I am a foreigner, but I can put a ball in an apple at five hundred +meters. There is my hunting gun behind you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may have use for it,” responded the captain dryly. +</p> + +<p> +Francoise had approached, somewhat agitated. Without heeding the strangers +present Dominique took and grasped in his the two hands she extended to him, as +if to put herself under his protection. The captain smiled again but said not a +word. He remained seated, his sword across his knees and his eyes plunged into +space, lost in a reverie. +</p> + +<p> +It was already ten o’clock. The heat had become very great. A heavy +silence prevailed. In the courtyard, in the shadows of the sheds, the soldiers +had begun to eat their soup. Not a sound came from the village; all its +inhabitants had barricaded the doors and windows of their houses. A dog, alone +upon the highway, howled. From the neighboring forests and meadows, swooning in +the heat, came a prolonged and distant voice made up of all the scattered +breaths. A cuckoo sang. Then the silence grew more intense. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly in that slumbering air a shot was heard. The captain leaped briskly to +his feet; the soldiers left their plates of soup, yet half full. In a few +seconds everybody was at the post of duty; from bottom to top the mill was +occupied. Meanwhile the captain, who had gone out upon the road, had discovered +nothing; to the right and to the left the highway stretched out, empty and +white. A second shot was heard, and still nothing visible, not even a shadow. +But as he was returning the captain perceived in the direction of Gagny, +between two trees, a light puff of smoke whirling away like thistledown. The +wood was calm and peaceful. +</p> + +<p> +“The bandits have thrown themselves into the forest,” he muttered. +“They know we are here.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the firing continued, growing more and more vigorous, between the French +soldiers posted around the mill and the Prussians hidden behind the trees. The +balls whistled above the Morelle without damaging either side. The fusillade +was irregular, the shots coming from every bush, and still only the little +puffs of smoke, tossed gently by the breeze, were seen. This lasted nearly two +hours. The officer hummed a tune with an air of indifference. Francoise and +Dominique, who had remained in the courtyard, raised themselves on tiptoe and +looked over a low wall. They were particularly interested in a little soldier +posted on the shore of the Morelle, behind the remains of an old bateau; he +stretched himself out flat on the ground, watched, fired and then glided into a +ditch a trifle farther back to reload his gun; and his movements were so droll, +so tricky and so supple, that they smiled as they looked at him. He must have +perceived the head of a Prussian, for he arose quickly and brought his weapon +to his shoulder, but before he could fire he uttered a cry, fell and rolled +into the ditch, where for an instant his legs twitched convulsively like the +claws of a chicken just killed. The little soldier had received a ball full in +the breast. He was the first man slain. Instinctively Francoise seized +Dominique’s hand and clasped it with a nervous contraction. +</p> + +<p> +“Move away,” said the captain. “You are within range of the +balls.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment a sharp little thud was heard in the old elm, and a fragment of +a branch came whirling down. But the two young folks did not stir; they were +nailed to the spot by anxiety to see what was going on. On the edge of the wood +a Prussian had suddenly come out from behind a tree as from a theater stage +entrance, beating the air with his hands and falling backward. Nothing further +moved; the two corpses seemed asleep in the broad sunlight; not a living soul +was seen in the scorching country. Even the crack of the fusillade had ceased. +The Morelle alone whispered in its clear tones. +</p> + +<p> +Père Merlier looked at the captain with an air of surprise, as if to ask him if +the struggle was over. +</p> + +<p> +“They are getting ready for something worse,” muttered the officer. +“Don’t trust appearances. Move away from there.” +</p> + +<p> +He had not finished speaking when there was a terrible discharge of musketry. +The great elm was riddled, and a host of leaves shot into the air. The +Prussians had happily fired too high. Dominique dragged, almost carried, +Francoise away, while Père Merlier followed them, shouting: +</p> + +<p> +“Go down into the cellar; the walls are solid!” +</p> + +<p> +But they did not heed him; they entered the huge hall where ten soldiers were +waiting in silence, watching through the chinks in the closed window shutters. +The captain was alone in the courtyard, crouching behind the little wall, while +the furious discharges continued. Without, the soldiers he had posted gave +ground only foot by foot. However, they re-entered one by one, crawling, when +the enemy had dislodged them from their hiding places. Their orders were to +gain time and not show themselves, that the Prussians might remain in ignorance +as to what force was before them. Another hour went by. As a sergeant arrived, +saying that but two or three more men remained without, the captain glanced at +his watch, muttering: +</p> + +<p> +“Half-past two o’clock. We must hold the position four hours +longer.” +</p> + +<p> +He caused the great gate of the courtyard to be closed, and every preparation +was made for an energetic resistance. As the Prussians were on the opposite +side of the Morelle, an immediate assault was not to be feared. There was a +bridge two kilometers away, but they evidently were not aware of its existence, +and it was hardly likely that they would attempt to ford the river. The +officer, therefore, simply ordered the highway to be watched. Every effort +would be made in the direction of the country. +</p> + +<p> +Again the fusillade had ceased. The mill seemed dead beneath the glowing sun. +Not a shutter was open; no sound came from the interior. At length, little by +little, the Prussians showed themselves at the edge of the forest of Gagny. +They stretched their necks and grew bold. In the mill several soldiers had +already raised their guns to their shoulders, but the captain cried: +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; wait. Let them come nearer.” +</p> + +<p> +They were exceedingly prudent, gazing at the mill with a suspicious air. The +silent and somber old structure with its curtains of ivy filled them with +uneasiness. Nevertheless, they advanced. When fifty of them were in the +opposite meadow the officer uttered the single word: +</p> + +<p> +“Fire!” +</p> + +<p> +A crash was heard; isolated shots followed. Francoise, all of a tremble, had +mechanically put her hands to her ears. Dominique, behind the soldiers, looked +on; when the smoke had somewhat lifted he saw three Prussians stretched upon +their backs in the center of the meadow. The others had thrown themselves +behind the willows and poplars. Then the siege began. +</p> + +<p> +For more than an hour the mill was riddled with balls. They dashed against the +old walls like hail. When they struck the stones they were heard to flatten and +fall into the water. They buried themselves in the wood with a hollow sound. +Occasionally a sharp crack announced that the mill wheel had been hit. The +soldiers in the interior were careful of their shots; they fired only when they +could take aim. From time to time the captain consulted his watch. As a ball +broke a shutter and plowed into the ceiling he said to himself: +</p> + +<p> +“Four o’clock. We shall never be able to hold out!” +</p> + +<p> +Little by little the terrible fusillade weakened the old mill. A shutter fell +into the water, pierced like a bit of lace, and it was necessary to replace it +with a mattress. Père Merlier constantly exposed himself to ascertain the +extent of the damage done to his poor wheel, the cracking of which made his +heart ache. All would be over with it this time; never could he repair it. +Dominique had implored Francoise to withdraw, but she refused to leave him; she +was seated behind a huge oaken clothespress, which protected her. A ball, +however, struck the clothespress, the sides of which gave forth a hollow sound. +Then Dominique placed himself in front of Francoise. He had not yet fired a +shot; he held his gun in his hand but was unable to approach the windows, which +were altogether occupied by the soldiers. At each discharge the floor shook. +</p> + +<p> +“Attention! Attention!” suddenly cried the captain. +</p> + +<p> +He had just seen a great dark mass emerge from the wood. Immediately a +formidable platoon fire opened. It was like a waterspout passing over the mill. +Another shutter was shattered, and through the gaping opening of the window the +balls entered. Two soldiers rolled upon the floor. One of them lay like a +stone; they pushed the body against the wall because it was in the way. The +other twisted in agony, begging his comrades to finish him, but they paid no +attention to him. The balls entered in a constant stream; each man took care of +himself and strove to find a loophole through which to return the fire. A third +soldier was hit; he uttered not a word; he fell on the edge of a table, with +eyes fixed and haggard. Opposite these dead men Francoise, stricken with +horror, had mechanically pushed away her chair to sit on the floor against the +wall; she thought she would take up less room there and not be in so much +danger. Meanwhile the soldiers had collected all the mattresses of the +household and partially stopped up the windows with them. The hall was filled +with wrecks, with broken weapons and demolished furniture. +</p> + +<p> +“Five o’clock,” said the captain. “Keep up your +courage! They are about to try to cross the river!” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment Francoise uttered a cry. A ball which had ricocheted had grazed +her forehead. Several drops of blood appeared. Dominique stared at her; then, +approaching the window, he fired his first shot. Once started, he did not stop. +He loaded and fired without heeding what was passing around him, but from time +to time he glanced at Francoise. He was very deliberate and aimed with care. +The Prussians, keeping beside the poplars, attempted the passage of the +Morelle, as the captain had predicted, but as soon as a man strove to cross he +fell, shot in the head by Dominique. The captain, who had his eyes on the young +man, was amazed. He complimented him, saying that he should be glad to have +many such skillful marksmen. Dominique did not hear him. A ball cut his +shoulder; another wounded his arm, but he continued to fire. +</p> + +<p> +There were two more dead men. The mangled mattresses no longer stopped the +windows. The last discharge seemed as if it would have carried away the mill. +The position had ceased to be tenable. Nevertheless, the captain said firmly: +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your ground for half an hour more!” +</p> + +<p> +Now he counted the minutes. He had promised his chiefs to hold the enemy in +check there until evening, and he would not give an inch before the hour he had +fixed on for the retreat. He preserved his amiable air and smiled upon +Francoise to reassure her. He had picked up the gun of a dead soldier and +himself was firing. +</p> + +<p> +Only four soldiers remained in the hall. The Prussians appeared in a body on +the other side of the Morelle, and it was clear that they intended speedily to +cross the river. A few minutes more elapsed. The stubborn captain would not +order the retreat. Just then a sergeant hastened to him and said: +</p> + +<p> +“They are upon the highway; they will take us in the rear!” +</p> + +<p> +The Prussians must have found the bridge. The captain pulled out his watch and +looked at it. +</p> + +<p> +“Five minutes longer,” he said. “They cannot get here before +that time!” +</p> + +<p> +Then at six o’clock exactly he at last consented to lead his men out +through a little door which opened into a lane. From there they threw +themselves into a ditch; they gained the forest of Sauval. Before taking his +departure the captain bowed very politely to Père Merlier and made his excuses, +adding: +</p> + +<p> +“Amuse them! We will return!” +</p> + +<p> +Dominique was now alone in the hall. He was still firing, hearing nothing, +understanding nothing. He felt only the need of defending Francoise. He had not +the least suspicion in the world that the soldiers had retreated. He aimed and +killed his man at every shot. Suddenly there was a loud noise. The Prussians +had entered the courtyard from behind. Dominique fired a last; shot, and they +fell upon him while his gun was yet smoking. +</p> + +<p> +Four men held him. Others vociferated around him in a frightful language. They +were ready to slaughter him on the spot. Francoise, with a supplicating look, +had cast herself before him. But an officer entered and ordered the prisoner to +be delivered up to him. After exchanging a few words in German with the +soldiers he turned toward Dominique and said to him roughly in very good +French: +</p> + +<p> +“You will be shot in two hours!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"></a> CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3> THE FLIGHT</h3> + +<p> +It was a settled rule of the German staff that every Frenchman, not belonging +to the regular army, taken with arms in his hands should be shot. The militia +companies themselves were not recognized as belligerents. By thus making +terrible examples of the peasants who defended their homes, the Germans hoped +to prevent the levy en masse, which they feared. +</p> + +<p> +The officer, a tall, lean man of fifty, briefly questioned Dominique. Although +he spoke remarkably pure French he had a stiffness altogether Prussian. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you belong to this district?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No; I am a Belgian,” answered the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Why then did you take up arms? The fighting did not concern you!” +</p> + +<p> +Dominique made no reply. At that moment the officer saw Francoise who was +standing by, very pale, listening; upon her white forehead her slight wound had +put a red bar. He looked at the young folks, one after the other, seemed to +understand matters and contented himself with adding: +</p> + +<p> +“You do not deny having fired, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I fired as often as I could!” responded Dominique tranquilly. +</p> + +<p> +This confession was useless, for he was black with powder, covered with sweat +and stained with a few drops of blood which had flowed from the scratch on his +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said the officer. “You will be shot in two +hours!” +</p> + +<p> +Francoise did not cry out. She clasped her hands and raised them with a gesture +of mute despair. The officer noticed this gesture. Two soldiers had taken +Dominique to a neighboring apartment, where they were to keep watch over him. +The young girl had fallen upon a chair, totally overcome; she could not weep; +she was suffocating. The officer had continued to examine her. At last he spoke +to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that young man your brother?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head negatively. The German stood stiffly on his feet with out a +smile. Then after a short silence he again asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Has he lived long in the district?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded affirmatively. +</p> + +<p> +“In that case, he ought to be thoroughly acquainted with the neighboring +forests.” +</p> + +<p> +This time she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“He is thoroughly acquainted with them, monsieur,” she said, +looking at him with considerable surprise. +</p> + +<p> +He said nothing further to her but turned upon his heel, demanding that the +mayor of the village should be brought to him. But Francoise had arisen with a +slight blush on her countenance; thinking that she had seized the aim of the +officer’s questions, she had recovered hope. She herself ran to find her +father. +</p> + +<p> +Père Merlier, as soon as the firing had ceased, had quickly descended to the +wooden gallery to examine his wheel. He adored his daughter; he had a solid +friendship for Dominique, his future son-in-law, but his wheel also held a +large place in his heart. Since the two young ones, as he called them, had come +safe and sound out of the fight, he thought of his other tenderness, which had +suffered greatly. Bent over the huge wooden carcass, he was studying its wounds +with a sad air. Five buckets were shattered to pieces; the central framework +was riddled. He thrust his fingers in the bullet holes to measure their depth; +he thought how he could repair all these injuries. Francoise found him already +stopping up the clefts with rubbish and moss. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” she said, “you are wanted.” +</p> + +<p> +And she wept at last as she told him what she had just heard. Père Merlier +tossed his head. People were not shot in such a summary fashion. The matter +must be looked after. He re-entered the mill with his silent and tranquil air. +When the officer demanded of him provisions for his men he replied that the +inhabitants of Rocreuse were not accustomed to be treated roughly and that +nothing would be obtained from them if violence were employed. He would see to +everything but on condition that he was not interfered with. The officer at +first seemed irritated by his calm tone; then he gave way before the old +man’s short and clear words. He even called him back and asked him: +</p> + +<p> +“What is the name of that wood opposite?” +</p> + +<p> +“The forest of Sauval.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is its extent?” +</p> + +<p> +The miller looked at him fixedly. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +And he went away. An hour later the contribution of war in provisions and +money, demanded by the officer, was in the courtyard of the mill. Night came +on. Francoise watched with anxiety the movements of the soldiers. She hung +about the room in which Dominique was imprisoned. Toward seven o’clock +she experienced a poignant emotion. She saw the officer enter the +prisoner’s apartment and for a quarter of an hour heard their voices in +loud conversation. For an instant the officer reappeared upon the threshold to +give an order in German, which she did not understand, but when twelve men +ranged themselves in the courtyard, their guns on their shoulders, she trembled +and felt as if about to faint. All then was over: the execution was going to +take place. The twelve men stood there ten minutes, Dominique’s voice +continuing to be raised in a tone of violent refusal. Finally the officer came +out, saying, as he roughly shut the door: +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; reflect. I give you until tomorrow morning.” +</p> + +<p> +And with a gesture he ordered the twelve men to break ranks. Francoise was +stupefied. Père Merlier, who had been smoking his pipe and looking at the +platoon simply with an air of curiosity, took her by the arm with paternal +gentleness. He led her to her chamber. +</p> + +<p> +“Be calm,” he said, “and try to sleep. Tomorrow, when it is +light, we will see what can be done.” +</p> + +<p> +As he withdrew he prudently locked her in. It was his opinion that women were +good for nothing and that they spoiled everything when they took a hand in a +serious affair. But Francoise did not retire. She sat for a long while upon the +side of her bed, listening to the noises of the house. The German soldiers +encamped in the courtyard sang and laughed; they must have been eating and +drinking until eleven o’clock, for the racket did not cease an instant. +In the mill itself heavy footsteps resounded from time to time, without doubt +those of the sentinels who were being relieved. But she was interested most by +the sounds she could distinguish in the apartment beneath her chamber. Many +times she stretched herself out at full length and put her ear to the floor. +That apartment was the one in which Dominique was confined. He must have been +walking back and forth from the window to the wall, for she long heard the +regular cadence of his steps. Then deep silence ensued; he had doubtless seated +himself. Finally every noise ceased and all was as if asleep. When slumber +appeared to her to have settled on the house she opened her window as gently as +possible and leaned her elbows on the sill. +</p> + +<p> +Without, the night had a warm serenity. The slender crescent of the moon, which +was sinking behind the forest of Sauval, lit up the country with the glimmer of +a night lamp. The lengthened shadows of the tall trees barred the meadows with +black, while the grass in uncovered spots assumed the softness of greenish +velvet. But Francoise did not pause to admire the mysterious charms of the +night. She examined the country, searching for the sentinels whom the Germans +had posted obliquely. She clearly saw their shadows extending like the rounds +of a ladder along the Morelle. Only one was before the mill, on the other shore +of the river, beside a willow, the branches of which dipped in the water. +Francoise saw him plainly. He was a tall man and was standing motionless, his +face turned toward the sky with the dreamy air of a shepherd. +</p> + +<p> +When she had carefully inspected the locality she again seated herself on her +bed. She remained there an hour, deeply absorbed. Then she listened once more: +there was not a sound in the mill. She returned to the window and glanced out, +but doubtless one of the horns of the moon, which was still visible behind the +trees, made her uneasy, for she resumed her waiting attitude. At last she +thought the proper time had come. The night was as black as jet; she could no +longer see the sentinel opposite; the country spread out like a pool of ink. +She strained her ear for an instant and made her decision. Passing near the +window was an iron ladder, the bars fastened to the wall, which mounted from +the wheel to the garret and formerly enabled the millers to reach certain +machinery; afterward the mechanism had been altered, and for a long while the +ladder had been hidden under the thick ivy which covered that side of the mill. +</p> + +<p> +Francoise bravely climbed out of her window and grasped one of the bars of the +ladder. She began to descend. Her skirts embarrassed her greatly. Suddenly a +stone was detached from the wall and fell into the Morelle with a loud splash. +She stopped with an icy shiver of fear. Then she realized that the waterfall +with its continuous roar would drown every noise she might make, and she +descended more courageously, feeling the ivy with her foot, assuring herself +that the rounds were firm. When she was at the height of the chamber which +served as Dominique’s prison she paused. An unforeseen difficulty nearly +caused her to lose all her courage: the window of the chamber was not directly +below that of her apartment. She hung off from the ladder, but when she +stretched out her arm her hand encountered only the wall. Must she, then, +ascend without pushing her plan to completion? Her arms were fatigued; the +murmur of the Morelle beneath her commenced to make her dizzy. Then she tore +from the wall little fragments of plaster and threw them against +Dominique’s window. He did not hear; he was doubtless asleep. She +crumbled more plaster from the wall, scraping the skin off her fingers. She was +utterly exhausted; she felt herself falling backward, when Dominique at last +softly opened the window. +</p> + +<p> +“It is I!” she murmured. “Catch me quickly; I’m +falling!” +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time that she had addressed him familiarly. Leaning out, he +seized her and drew her into the chamber. There she gave vent to a flood of +tears, stifling her sobs that she might not be heard. Then by a supreme effort +she calmed herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you guarded?” she asked in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +Dominique, still stupefied at seeing her thus, nodded his head affirmatively, +pointing to the door. On the other side they heard someone snoring; the +sentinel, yielding to sleep, had thrown himself on the floor against the door, +arguing that by disposing himself thus the prisoner could not escape. +</p> + +<p> +“You must fly,” resumed Francoise excitedly. “I have come to +beg you to do so and to bid you farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +But he did not seem to hear her. He repeated: +</p> + +<p> +“What? Is it you; is it you? Oh, what fear you caused me! You might have +killed yourself!” +</p> + +<p> +He seized her hands; he kissed them. +</p> + +<p> +“How I love you, Francoise!” he murmured. “You are as +courageous as good. I had only one dread: that I should die without seeing you +again. But you are here, and now they can shoot me. When I have passed a +quarter of an hour with you I shall be ready.” +</p> + +<p> +Little by little he had drawn her to him, and she leaned her head upon his +shoulder. The danger made them dearer to each other. They forgot everything in +that warm clasp. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Francoise,” resumed Dominique in a caressing voice, +“this is Saint Louis’s Day, the day, so long awaited, of our +marriage. Nothing has been able to separate us, since we are both here alone, +faithful to the appointment. Is not this our wedding morning?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” she repeated, “it is our wedding morning.” +</p> + +<p> +They tremblingly exchanged a kiss. But all at once she disengaged herself from +Dominique’s arms; she remembered the terrible reality. +</p> + +<p> +“You must fly; you must fly,” she whispered. “There is not a +minute to be lost!” +</p> + +<p> +And as he stretched out his arms in the darkness to clasp her again, she said +tenderly: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I implore you to listen to me! If you die I shall die also! In an +hour it will be light. I want you to go at once.” +</p> + +<p> +Then rapidly she explained her plan. The iron ladder descended to the mill +wheel; there he could climb down the buckets and get into the boat which was +hidden away in a nook. Afterward it would be easy for him to reach the other +bank of the river and escape. +</p> + +<p> +“But what of the sentinels?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“There is only one, opposite, at the foot of the first willow.” +</p> + +<p> +“What if he should see me and attempt to give an alarm?” +</p> + +<p> +Francoise shivered. She placed in his hand a knife she had brought with her. +There was a brief silence. +</p> + +<p> +“What is to become of your father and yourself?” resumed Dominique. +“No, I cannot fly! When I am gone those soldiers will, perhaps, massacre +you both! You do not know them. They offered me my life if I would consent to +guide them through the forest of Sauval. When they discover my escape they will +be capable of anything!” +</p> + +<p> +The young girl did not stop to argue. She said simply in reply to all the +reasons he advanced: +</p> + +<p> +“Out of love for me, fly! If you love me, Dominique, do not remain here +another moment!” +</p> + +<p> +Then she promised to climb back to her chamber. No one would know that she had +helped him. She finally threw her arms around him to convince him with an +embrace, with a burst of extraordinary love. He was vanquished. He asked but +one more question: +</p> + +<p> +“Can you swear to me that your father knows what you have done and that +he advises me to fly?” +</p> + +<p> +“My father sent me!” answered Francoise boldly. +</p> + +<p> +She told a falsehood. At that moment she had only one immense need: to know +that he was safe, to escape from the abominable thought that the sun would be +the signal for his death. When he was far away every misfortune might fall upon +her; that would seem delightful to her from the moment he was secure. The +selfishness of her tenderness desired that he should live before everything. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well,” said Dominique; “I will do what you wish.” +</p> + +<p> +They said nothing more. Dominique reopened the window. But suddenly a sound +froze them. The door was shaken, and they thought that it was about to be +opened. Evidently a patrol had heard their voices. Standing locked in each +other’s arms, they waited in unspeakable anguish. The door was shaken a +second time, but it did not open. They uttered low sighs of relief; they +comprehended that the soldier who was asleep against the door must have turned +over. In fact, silence succeeded; the snoring was resumed. +</p> + +<p> +Dominique exacted that Francoise should ascend to her chamber before he +departed. He clasped her in his arms and bade her a mute adieu. Then he aided +her to seize the ladder and clung to it in his turn. But he refused to descend +a single round until convinced that she was in her apartment. When Francoise +had entered her window she let fall in a voice as light as a breath: +</p> + +<p> +“Au revoir, my love!” +</p> + +<p> +She leaned her elbows on the sill and strove to follow Dominique with her eyes. +The night was yet very dark. She searched for the sentinel but could not see +him; the willow alone made a pale stain in the midst of the gloom. For an +instant she heard the sound produced by Dominique’s body in passing along +the ivy. Then the wheel cracked, and there was a slight agitation in the water +which told her that the young man had found the boat. A moment afterward she +distinguished the somber silhouette of the bateau on the gray surface of the +Morelle. Terrible anguish seized upon her. Each instant she thought she heard +the sentinel’s cry of alarm; the smallest sounds scattered through the +gloom seemed to her the hurried tread of soldiers, the clatter of weapons, the +charging of guns. Nevertheless, the seconds elapsed and the country maintained +its profound peace. Dominique must have reached the other side of the river. +Francoise saw nothing more. The silence was majestic. She heard a shuffling of +feet, a hoarse cry and the hollow fall of a body. Afterward the silence grew +deeper. Then as if she had felt Death pass by, she stood, chilled through and +through, staring into the thick night. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"></a> CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3> A TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE</h3> + +<p> +At dawn a clamor of voices shook the mill. Père Merlier opened the door of +Francoise’s chamber. She went down into the courtyard, pale and very +calm. But there she could not repress a shiver as she saw the corpse of a +Prussian soldier stretched out on a cloak beside the well. +</p> + +<p> +Around the body troops gesticulated, uttering cries of fury. Many of them shook +their fists at the village. Meanwhile the officer had summoned Père Merlier as +the mayor of the commune. +</p> + +<p> +“Look!” he said to him in a voice almost choking with anger. +“There lies one of our men who was found assassinated upon the bank of +the river. We must make a terrible example, and I count on you to aid us in +discovering the murderer.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you choose,” answered the miller with his usual stoicism, +“but you will find it no easy task.” +</p> + +<p> +The officer stooped and drew aside a part of the cloak which hid the face of +the dead man. Then appeared a horrible wound. The sentinel had been struck in +the throat, and the weapon had remained in the cut. It was a kitchen knife with +a black handle. +</p> + +<p> +“Examine that knife,” said the officer to Père Merlier; +“perhaps it will help us in our search.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man gave a start but recovered control of himself immediately. He +replied without moving a muscle of his face: +</p> + +<p> +“Everybody in the district has similar knives. Doubtless your man was +weary of fighting and put an end to his own life. It looks like it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Mind what you say!” cried the officer furiously. “I do not +know what prevents me from setting fire to the four corners of the +village!” +</p> + +<p> +Happily in his rage he did not notice the deep trouble pictured on +Francoise’s countenance. She had been forced to sit down on a stone bench +near the well. Despite herself her eyes were fixed upon the corpse stretched +our on the ground almost at her feet. It was that of a tall and handsome man +who resembled Dominique, with flaxen hair and blue eyes. This resemblance made +her heart ache. She thought that perhaps the dead soldier had left behind him +in Germany a sweetheart who would weep her eyes out for him. She recognized her +knife in the throat of the murdered man. She had killed him. +</p> + +<p> +The officer was talking of striking Rocreuse with terrible measures, when +soldiers came running to him. Dominique’s escape had just been +discovered. It caused an extreme agitation. The officer went to the apartment +in which the prisoner had been confined, looked out of the window which had +remained open, understood everything and returned, exasperated. +</p> + +<p> +Père Merlier seemed greatly vexed by Dominique’s flight. +</p> + +<p> +“The imbecile!” he muttered. “He has ruined all!” +</p> + +<p> +Francoise heard him and was overcome with anguish. But the miller did not +suspect her of complicity in the affair. He tossed his head, saying to her in +an undertone: +</p> + +<p> +“We are in a nice scrape!” +</p> + +<p> +“It was that wretch who assassinated the soldier! I am sure of it!” +cried the officer. “He has undoubtedly reached the forest. But he must be +found for us or the village shall pay for him!” +</p> + +<p> +Turning to the miller, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“See here, you ought to know where he is hidden!” +</p> + +<p> +Père Merlier laughed silently, pointing to the wide stretch of wooden hills. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you expect to find a man in there?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, there must be nooks there with which you are acquainted. I will give +you ten men. You must guide them.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you please. But it will take a week to search all the wood in the +vicinity.” +</p> + +<p> +The old man’s tranquillity enraged the officer. In fact, the latter +comprehended the asburdity of this search. At that moment he saw Francoise, +pale and trembling, on the bench. The anxious attitude of the young girl struck +him. He was silent for an instant, during which he in turn examined the miller +and his daughter. +</p> + +<p> +At length he demanded roughly of the old man: +</p> + +<p> +“Is not that fellow your child’s lover?” +</p> + +<p> +Père Merlier grew livid and seemed about to hurl himself upon the officer to +strangle him. He stiffened himself but made no answer. Francoise buried her +face in her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s it!” continued the Prussian. “And you or +your daughter helped him to escape! One of you is his accomplice! For the last +time, will you give him up to us?” +</p> + +<p> +The miller uttered not a word. He turned away and looked into space with an air +of indifference, as if the officer had not addressed him. This brought the +latter’s rage to a head. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well!” he shouted. “You shall be shot in his +place!” +</p> + +<p> +And he again ordered out the platoon of execution. Père Merlier remained as +stoical as ever. He hardly even shrugged his shoulders; all this drama appeared +to him in bad taste. Without doubt he did not believe that they would shoot a +man so lightly. But when the platoon drew up before him he said gravely: +</p> + +<p> +“So it is serious, is it? Go on with your bloody work then! If you must +have a victim I will do as well as another!” +</p> + +<p> +But Francoise started up, terrified, stammering: +</p> + +<p> +“In pity, monsieur, do no harm to my father! Kill me in his stead! I +aided Dominique to fly! I alone am guilty!” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush, my child!” cried Père Merlier. “Why do you tell an +untruth? She passed the night locked in her chamber, monsieur. She tells a +falsehood, I assure you!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I do not tell a falsehood!” resumed the young girl ardently. +“I climbed out of my window and went down the iron ladder; I urged +Dominique to fly. This is the truth, the whole truth!” +</p> + +<p> +The old man became very pale. He saw clearly in her eyes that she did not lie, +and her story terrified him. Ah, these children with their hearts, how they +spoil everything! Then he grew angry and exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“She is mad; do not heed her. She tells you stupid tales. Come, finish +your work!” +</p> + +<p> +She still protested. She knelt, clasping her hands. The officer tranquilly +watched this dolorous struggle. +</p> + +<p> +“MON DIEU!” he said at last. “I take your father because I +have not the other. Find the fugitive and the old man shall be set at +liberty!” +</p> + +<p> +She gazed at him with staring eyes, astonished at the atrocity of the +proposition. +</p> + +<p> +“How horrible!” she murmured. “Where do you think I can find +Dominique at this hour? He has departed; I know no more about him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, make your choice—him or your father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, MON DIEU! How can I choose? If I knew where Dominique was I could +not choose! You are cutting my heart. I would rather die at once. Yes, it would +be the sooner over. Kill me, I implore you, kill me!” +</p> + +<p> +This scene of despair and tears finally made the officer impatient. He cried +out: +</p> + +<p> +“Enough! I will be merciful. I consent to give you two hours. If in that +time your lover is not here your father will be shot in his place!” +</p> + +<p> +He caused Père Merlier to be taken to the chamber which had served as +Dominique’s prison. The old man demanded tobacco and began to smoke. Upon +his impassible face not the slightest emotion was visible. But when alone, as +he smoked, he shed two big tears which ran slowly down his cheeks. His poor, +dear child, how she was suffering! +</p> + +<p> +Francoise remained in the middle of the courtyard. Prussian soldiers passed, +laughing. Some of them spoke to her, uttered jokes she could not understand. +She stared at the door through which her father had disappeared. With a slow +movement she put her hand to her forehead, as if to prevent it from bursting. +</p> + +<p> +The officer turned upon his heel, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“You have two hours. Try to utilize them.” +</p> + +<p> +She had two hours. This phrase buzzed in her ears. Then mechanically she +quitted the courtyard; she walked straight ahead. Where should she +go?—what should she do? She did not even try to make a decision because +she well understood the inutility of her efforts. However, she wished to see +Dominique. They could have an understanding together; they might, perhaps, find +an expedient. And amid the confusion of her thoughts she went down to the shore +of the Morelle, which she crossed below the sluice at a spot where there were +huge stones. Her feet led her beneath the first willow, in the corner of the +meadow. As she stooped she saw a pool of blood which made her turn pale. It was +there the murder had been committed. She followed the track of Dominique in the +trodden grass; he must have run, for she perceived a line of long footprints +stretching across the meadow. Then farther on she lost these traces. But in a +neighboring field she thought she found them again. The new trail conducted her +to the edge of the forest, where every indication was effaced. +</p> + +<p> +Francoise, nevertheless, plunged beneath the trees. It solaced her to be alone. +She sat down for an instant, but at the thought that time was passing she +leaped to her feet. How long had it been since she left the mill? Five +minutes?—half an hour? She had lost all conception of time. Perhaps +Dominique had concealed himself in a copse she knew of, where they had one +afternoon eaten filberts together. She hastened to the copse, searched it. Only +a blackbird flew away, uttering its soft, sad note. Then she thought he might +have taken refuge in a hollow of the rocks, where it had sometimes been his +custom to lie in wait for game, but the hollow of the rocks was empty. What +good was it to hunt for him? She would never find him, but little by little the +desire to discover him took entire possession of her, and she hastened her +steps. The idea that he might have climbed a tree suddenly occurred to her. She +advanced with uplifted eyes, and that he might be made aware of her presence +she called him every fifteen or twenty steps. Cuckoos answered; a breath of +wind which passed through the branches made her believe that he was there and +was descending. Once she even imagined she saw him; she stopped, almost choked, +and wished to fly. What was she to say to him? Had she come to take him back to +be shot? Oh no, she would not tell him what had happened. She would cry out to +him to escape, not to remain in the neighborhood. Then the thought that her +father was waiting for her gave her a sharp pain. She fell upon the turf, +weeping, crying aloud: +</p> + +<p> +“MON DIEU! MON DIEU! Why am I here?” +</p> + +<p> +She was mad to have come. And as if seized with fear, she ran; she sought to +leave the forest. Three times she deceived herself; she thought she never again +would find the mill, when she entered a meadow just opposite Rocreuse. As soon +as she saw the village she paused. Was she going to return alone? She was still +hesitating when a voice softly called: +</p> + +<p> +“Francoise! Francoise!” +</p> + +<p> +And she saw Dominique, who had raised his head above the edge of a ditch. Just +God! She had found him! Did heaven wish his death? She restrained a cry; she +let herself glide into the ditch. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you searching for me?” asked the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she answered, her brain in a whirl, not knowing what she +said. +</p> + +<p> +“What has happened?” +</p> + +<p> +She lowered her eyes, stammered: +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing. I was uneasy; I wanted to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, reassured, he explained to her that he had resolved not to go away. He +was doubtful about the safety of herself and her father. Those Prussian +wretches were fully capable of taking vengeance upon women and old men. But +everything was getting on well. He added with a laugh: +</p> + +<p> +“Our wedding will take place in a week—I am sure of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Then as she remained overwhelmed, he grew grave again and said: +</p> + +<p> +“But what ails you? You are concealing something from me!” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I swear it to you. I am out of breath from running.” +</p> + +<p> +He embraced her, saying that it was imprudent for them to be talking, and he +wished to climb out of the ditch to return to the forest. She restrained him. +She trembled. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” she said: “it would, perhaps, be wise for you to +remain where you are. No one is searching for you; you have nothing to +fear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Francoise, you are concealing something from me,” he repeated. +</p> + +<p> +Again she swore that she was hiding nothing. She had simply wished to know that +he was near her. And she stammered forth still further reasons. She seemed so +strange to him that he now could not be induced to flee. Besides, he had faith +in the return of the French. Troops had been seen in the direction of Sauval. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, let them hurry; let them get here as soon as possible,” she +murmured fervently. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment eleven o’clock sounded from the belfry of Rocreuse. The +strokes were clear and distinct. She arose with a terrified look; two hours had +passed since she quitted the mill. +</p> + +<p> +“Hear me,” she said rapidly: “if we have need of you I will +wave my handkerchief from my chamber window.” +</p> + +<p> +And she departed on a run, while Dominique, very uneasy, stretched himself out +upon the edge of the ditch to watch the mill. As she was about to enter +Rocreuse, Francoise met an old beggar, Père Bontemps, who knew everybody in the +district. He bowed to her; he had just seen the miller in the midst of the +Prussians; then, making the sign of the cross and muttering broken words, he +went on his way. +</p> + +<p> +“The two hours have passed,” said the officer when Francoise +appeared. +</p> + +<p> +Père Merlier was there, seated upon the bench beside the well. He was smoking. +The young girl again begged, wept, sank on her knees. She wished to gain time. +The hope of seeing the French return had increased in her, and while lamenting +she thought she heard in the distance, the measured tramp of an army. Oh, if +they would come, if they would deliver them all? +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, monsieur,” she said: “an hour, another hour; you can +grant us another hour!” +</p> + +<p> +But the officer remained inflexible. He even ordered two men to seize her and +take her away, that they might quietly proceed with the execution of the old +man. Then a frightful struggle took place in Francoise’s heart. She could +not allow her father to be thus assassinated. No, no; she would die rather with +Dominique. She was running toward her chamber when Dominique himself entered +the courtyard. +</p> + +<p> +The officer and the soldiers uttered a shout of triumph. But the young man, +calmly, with a somewhat severe look, went up to Francoise, as if she had been +the only person present. +</p> + +<p> +“You did wrong,” he said. “Why did you not bring me back? It +remained for Père Bontemps to tell me everything. But I am here!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"></a> CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3> THE RETURN OF THE FRENCH</h3> + +<p> +It was three o’clock in the afternoon. Great black clouds, the trail of +some neighboring storm, had slowly filled the sky. The yellow heavens, the +brass covered uniforms, had changed the valley of Rocreuse, so gay in the +sunlight, into a den of cutthroats full of sinister gloom. The Prussian officer +had contented himself with causing Dominique to be imprisoned without +announcing what fate he reserved for him. Since noon Francoise had been torn by +terrible anguish. Despite her father’s entreaties she would not quit the +courtyard. She was awaiting the French. But the hours sped on; night was +approaching, and she suffered the more as all the time gained did not seem to +be likely to change the frightful denouement. +</p> + +<p> +About three o’clock the Prussians made their preparations for departure. +For an instant past the officer had, as on the previous day, shut himself up +with Dominique. Francoise realized that the young man’s life was in +balance. She clasped her hands; she prayed. Père Merlier, beside her, +maintained silence and the rigid attitude of an old peasant who does not +struggle against fate. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, MON DIEU! Oh, MON DIEU!” murmured Francoise. “They are +going to kill him!” +</p> + +<p> +The miller drew her to him and took her on his knees as if she had been a +child. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment the officer came out, while behind him two men brought +Dominique. +</p> + +<p> +“Never! Never!” cried the latter. “I am ready to die!” +</p> + +<p> +“Think well,” resumed the officer. “The service you refuse me +another will render us. I am generous: I offer you your life. I want you simply +to guide us through the forest to Montredon. There must be pathways leading +there.” +</p> + +<p> +Dominique was silent. +</p> + +<p> +“So you persist in your infatuation, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Kill me and end all this!” replied the young man. +</p> + +<p> +Francoise, her hands clasped, supplicated him from afar. She had forgotten +everything; she would have advised him to commit an act of cowardice. But Père +Merlier seized her hands that the Prussians might not see her wild gestures. +</p> + +<p> +“He is right,” he whispered: “it is better to die!” +</p> + +<p> +The platoon of execution was there. The officer awaited a sign of weakness on +Dominique’s part. He still expected to conquer him. No one spoke. In the +distance violent crashes of thunder were heard. Oppressive heat weighed upon +the country. But suddenly, amid the silence, a cry broke forth: +</p> + +<p> +“The French! The French!” +</p> + +<p> +Yes, the French were at hand. Upon the Sauval highway, at the edge of the wood, +the line of red pantaloons could be distinguished. In the mill there was an +extraordinary agitation. The Prussian soldiers ran hither and thither with +guttural exclamations. Not a shot had yet been fired. +</p> + +<p> +“The French! The French!” cried Francoise, clapping her hands. +</p> + +<p> +She was wild with joy. She escaped from her father’s grasp; she laughed +and tossed her arms in the air. At last they had come and come in time, since +Dominique was still alive! +</p> + +<p> +A terrible platoon fire, which burst upon her ears like a clap of thunder, +caused her to turn. The officer muttered between his teeth: +</p> + +<p> +“Before everything, let us settle this affair!” +</p> + +<p> +And with his own hand pushing Dominique against the wall of a shed he ordered +his men to fire. When Francoise looked Dominique lay upon the ground with blood +streaming from his neck and shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +She did not weep; she stood stupefied. Her eyes grew fixed, and she sat down +under the shed, a few paces from the body. She stared at it, wringing her +hands. The Prussians had seized Père Merlier as a hostage. +</p> + +<p> +It was a stirring combat. The officer had rapidly posted his men, comprehending +that he could not beat a retreat without being cut to pieces. Hence he would +fight to the last. Now the Prussians defended the mill, and the French attacked +it. The fusillade began with unusual violence. For half an hour it did not +cease. Then a hollow sound was heard, and a ball broke a main branch of the old +elm. The French had cannon. A battery, stationed just above the ditch in which +Dominique had hidden himself, swept the wide street of Rocreuse. The struggle +could not last long. +</p> + +<p> +Ah, the poor mill! Balls pierced it in every part. Half of the roof was carried +away. Two walls were battered down. But it was on the side of the Morelle that +the destruction was most lamentable. The ivy, torn from the tottering edifice, +hung like rags; the river was encumbered with wrecks of all kinds, and through +a breach was visible Francoise’s chamber with its bed, the white curtains +of which were carefully closed. Shot followed shot; the old wheel received two +balls and gave vent to an agonizing groan; the buckets were borne off by the +current; the framework was crushed. The soul of the gay mill had left it! +</p> + +<p> +Then the French began the assault. There was a furious fight with swords and +bayonets. Beneath the rust-colored sky the valley was choked with the dead. The +broad meadows had a wild look with their tall, isolated trees and their hedges +of poplars which stained them with shade. To the right and to the left the +forests were like the walls of an ancient ampitheater which enclosed the +fighting gladiators, while the springs, the fountains and the flowing brooks +seemed to sob amid the panic of the country. +</p> + +<p> +Beneath the shed Francoise still sat near Dominique’s body; she had not +moved. Père Merlier had received a slight wound. The Prussians were +exterminated, but the ruined mill was on fire in a dozen places. The French +rushed into the courtyard, headed by their captain. It was his first success of +the war. His face beamed with triumph. He waved his sword, shouting: +</p> + +<p> +“Victory! Victory!” +</p> + +<p> +On seeing the wounded miller, who was endeavoring to comfort Francoise, and +noticing the body of Dominique, his joyous look changed to one of sadness. Then +he knelt beside the young man and, tearing open his blouse, put his hand to his +heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God!” he cried. “It is yet beating! Send for the +surgeon!” +</p> + +<p> +At the captain’s words Francoise leaped to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“There is hope!” she cried. “Oh, tell me there is +hope!” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment the surgeon appeared. He made a hasty examination and said: +</p> + +<p> +“The young man is severely hurt, but life is not extinct; he can be +saved!” By the surgeon’s orders Dominique was transported to a +neighboring cottage, where he was placed in bed. His wounds were dressed; +restoratives were administered, and he soon recovered consciousness. When he +opened his eyes he saw Francoise sitting beside him and through the open window +caught sight of Père Merlier talking with the French captain. He passed his +hand over his forehead with a bewildered air and said: +</p> + +<p> +“They did not kill me after all!” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied Francoise. “The French came, and their surgeon +saved you.” +</p> + +<p> +Père Merlier turned and said through the window: +</p> + +<p> +“No talking yet, my young ones!” +</p> + +<p> +In due time Dominique was entirely restored, and when peace again blessed the +land he wedded his beloved Francoise. +</p> + +<p> +The mill was rebuilt, and Père Merlier had a new wheel upon which to bestow +whatever tenderness was not engrossed by his daughter and her husband. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"></a> CAPTAIN BURLE</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"></a> CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3> THE SWINDLE</h3> + +<p> +It was nine o’clock. The little town of Vauchamp, dark and silent, had +just retired to bed amid a chilly November rain. In the Rue des Recollets, one +of the narrowest and most deserted streets of the district of Saint-Jean, a +single window was still alight on the third floor of an old house, from whose +damaged gutters torrents of water were falling into the street. Mme Burle was +sitting up before a meager fire of vine stocks, while her little grandson +Charles pored over his lessons by the pale light of a lamp. +</p> + +<p> +The apartment, rented at one hundred and sixty francs per annum, consisted of +four large rooms which it was absolutely impossible to keep warm during the +winter. Mme Burle slept in the largest chamber, her son Captain and +Quartermaster Burle occupying a somewhat smaller one overlooking the street, +while little Charles had his iron cot at the farther end of a spacious drawing +room with mildewed hangings, which was never used. The few pieces of furniture +belonging to the captain and his mother, furniture of the massive style of the +First Empire, dented and worn by continuous transit from one garrison town to +another, almost disappeared from view beneath the lofty ceilings whence +darkness fell. The flooring of red-colored tiles was cold and hard to the feet; +before the chairs there were merely a few threadbare little rugs of +poverty-stricken aspect, and athwart this desert all the winds of heaven blew +through the disjointed doors and windows. +</p> + +<p> +Near the fireplace sat Mme Burle, leaning back in her old yellow velvet +armchair and watching the last vine branch smoke, with that stolid, blank stare +of the aged who live within themselves. She would sit thus for whole days +together, with her tall figure, her long stern face and her thin lips that +never smiled. The widow of a colonel who had died just as he was on the point +of becoming a general, the mother of a captain whom she had followed even in +his campaigns, she had acquired a military stiffness of bearing and formed for +herself a code of honor, duty and patriotism which kept her rigid, desiccated, +as it were, by the stern application of discipline. She seldom, if ever, +complained. When her son had become a widower after five years of married life +she had undertaken the education of little Charles as a matter of course, +performing her duties with the severity of a sergeant drilling recruits. She +watched over the child, never tolerating the slightest waywardness or +irregularity, but compelling him to sit up till midnight when his exercises +were not finished, and sitting up herself until he had completed them. Under +such implacable despotism Charles, whose constitution was delicate, grew up +pale and thin, with beautiful eyes, inordinately large and clear, shining in +his white, pinched face. +</p> + +<p> +During the long hours of silence Mme Burle dwelt continuously upon one and the +same idea: she had been disappointed in her son. This thought sufficed to +occupy her mind, and under its influence she would live her whole life over +again, from the birth of her son, whom she had pictured rising amid glory to +the highest rank, till she came down to mean and narrow garrison life, the +dull, monotonous existence of nowadays, that stranding in the post of a +quartermaster, from which Burle would never rise and in which he seemed to sink +more and more heavily. And yet his first efforts had filled her with pride, and +she had hoped to see her dreams realized. Burle had only just left Saint-Cyr +when he distinguished himself at the battle of Solferino, where he had captured +a whole battery of the enemy’s artillery with merely a handful of men. +For this feat he had won the cross; the papers had recorded his heroism, and he +had become known as one of the bravest soldiers in the army. But gradually the +hero had grown stout, embedded in flesh, timorous, lazy and satisfied. In 1870, +still a captain, he had been made a prisoner in the first encounter, and he +returned from Germany quite furious, swearing that he would never be caught +fighting again, for it was too absurd. Being prevented from leaving the army, +as he was incapable of embracing any other profession, he applied for and +obtained the position of captain quartermaster, “a kennel,” as he +called it, “in which he would be left to kick the bucket in peace.” +That day Mme Burle experienced a great internal disruption. She felt that it +was all over, and she ever afterward preserved a rigid attitude with tightened +lips. +</p> + +<p> +A blast of wind shook the Rue des Recollets and drove the rain angrily against +the windowpanes. The old lady lifted her eyes from the smoking vine roots now +dying out, to make sure that Charles was not falling asleep over his Latin +exercise. This lad, twelve years of age, had become the old lady’s +supreme hope, the one human being in whom she centered her obstinate yearning +for glory. At first she had hated him with all the loathing she had felt for +his mother, a weak and pretty young lacemaker whom the captain had been foolish +enough to marry when he found out that she would not listen to his passionate +addresses on any other condition. Later on, when the mother had died and the +father had begun to wallow in vice, Mme Burle dreamed again in presence of that +little ailing child whom she found it so hard to rear. She wanted to see him +robust, so that he might grow into the hero that Burle had declined to be, and +for all her cold ruggedness she watched him anxiously, feeling his limbs and +instilling courage into his soul. By degrees, blinded by her passionate +desires, she imagined that she had at last found the man of the family. The +boy, whose temperament was of a gentle, dreamy character, had a physical horror +of soldiering, but as he lived in mortal dread of his grandmother and was +extremely shy and submissive, he would echo all she said and resignedly express +his intention of entering the army when he grew up. +</p> + +<p> +Mme Burle observed that the exercise was not progressing. In fact, little +Charles, overcome by the deafening noise of the storm, was dozing, albeit his +pen was between his fingers and his eyes were staring at the paper. The old +lady at once struck the edge of the table with her bony hand; whereupon the lad +started, opened his dictionary and hurriedly began to turn over the leaves. +Then, still preserving silence, his grandmother drew the vine roots together on +the hearth and unsuccessfully attempted to rekindle the fire. +</p> + +<p> +At the time when she had still believed in her son she had sacrificed her small +income, which he had squandered in pursuits she dared not investigate. Even now +he drained the household; all its resources went to the streets, and it was +through him that she lived in penury, with empty rooms and cold kitchen. She +never spoke to him of all those things, for with her sense of discipline he +remained the master. Only at times she shuddered at the sudden fear that Burle +might someday commit some foolish misdeed which would prevent Charles from +entering the army. +</p> + +<p> +She was rising up to fetch a fresh piece of wood in the kitchen when a fearful +hurricane fell upon the house, making the doors rattle, tearing off a shutter +and whirling the water in the broken gutters like a spout against the window. +In the midst of the uproar a ring at the bell startled the old lady. Who could +it be at such an hour and in such weather? Burle never returned till after +midnight, if he came home at all. However, she went to the door. An officer +stood before her, dripping with rain and swearing savagely. +</p> + +<p> +“Hell and thunder!” he growled. “What cursed weather!” +</p> + +<p> +It was Major Laguitte, a brave old soldier who had served under Colonel Burle +during Mme Burle’s palmy days. He had started in life as a drummer boy +and, thanks to his courage rather than his intellect, had attained to the +command of a battalion, when a painful infirmity—the contraction of the +muscles of one of his thighs, due to a wound—obliged him to accept the +post of major. He was slightly lame, but it would have been imprudent to tell +him so, as he refused to own it. +</p> + +<p> +“What, you, Major?” said Mme Burle with growing astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, thunder,” grumbled Laguitte, “and I must be +confoundedly fond of you to roam the streets on such a night as this. One would +think twice before sending even a parson out.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook himself, and little rivulets fell from his huge boots onto the floor. +Then he looked round him. +</p> + +<p> +“I particularly want to see Burle. Is the lazy beggar already in +bed?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he is not in yet,” said the old woman in her harsh voice. +</p> + +<p> +The major looked furious, and, raising his voice, he shouted: “What, not +at home? But in that case they hoaxed me at the cafe, Melanie’s +establishment, you know. I went there, and a maid grinned at me, saying that +the captain had gone home to bed. Curse the girl! I suspected as much and felt +like pulling her ears!” +</p> + +<p> +After this outburst he became somewhat calmer, stamping about the room in an +undecided way, withal seeming greatly disturbed. Mme Burle looked at him +attentively. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it the captain personally whom you want to see?” she said at +last. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Can I not tell him what you have to say?” +</p> + +<p> +“No.” +</p> + +<p> +She did not insist but remained standing without taking her eyes off the major, +who did not seem able to make up his mind to leave. Finally in a fresh burst of +rage he exclaimed with an oath: “It can’t be helped. As I am here +you may as well know—after all, it is, perhaps, best.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat down before the chimney piece, stretching out his muddy boots as if a +bright fire had been burning. Mme Burle was about to resume her own seat when +she remarked that Charles, overcome by fatigue, had dropped his head between +the open pages of his dictionary. The arrival of the major had at first +interested him, but, seeing that he remained unnoticed, he had been unable to +struggle against his sleepiness. His grandmother turned toward the table to +slap his frail little hands, whitening in the lamplight, when Laguitte stopped +her. +</p> + +<p> +“No—no!” he said. “Let the poor little man sleep. I +haven’t got anything funny to say. There’s no need for him to hear +me.” +</p> + +<p> +The old lady sat down in her armchair; deep silence reigned, and they looked at +one another. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes,” said the major at last, punctuating his words with an +angry motion of his chin, “he has been and done it; that hound Burle has +been and done it!” +</p> + +<p> +Not a muscle of Mme Burle’s face moved, but she became livid, and her +figure stiffened. Then the major continued: “I had my doubts. I had +intended mentioning the subject to you. Burle was spending too much money, and +he had an idiotic look which I did not fancy. Thunder and lightning! What a +fool a man must be to behave so filthily!” +</p> + +<p> +Then he thumped his knee furiously with his clenched fist and seemed to choke +with indignation. The old woman put the straightforward question: +</p> + +<p> +“He has stolen?” +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t have an idea of it. You see, I never examined his +accounts; I approved and signed them. You know how those things are managed. +However, just before the inspection—as the colonel is a crotchety old +maniac—I said to Burle: ‘I say, old man, look to your accounts; I +am answerable, you know,’ and then I felt perfectly secure. Well, about a +month ago, as he seemed queer and some nasty stories were circulating, I peered +a little closer into the books and pottered over the entries. I thought +everything looked straight and very well kept—” +</p> + +<p> +At this point he stopped, convulsed by such a fit of rage that he had to +relieve himself by a volley of appalling oaths. Finally he resumed: “It +isn’t the swindle that angers me; it is his disgusting behavior to me. He +has gammoned me, Madame Burle. By God! Does he take me for an old fool?” +</p> + +<p> +“So he stole?” the mother again questioned. +</p> + +<p> +“This evening,” continued the major more quietly, “I had just +finished my dinner when Gagneux came in—you know Gagneux, the butcher at +the corner of the Place aux Herbes? Another dirty beast who got the meat +contract and makes our men eat all the diseased cow flesh in the neighborhood! +Well, I received him like a dog, and then he let it all out—blurted out +the whole thing, and a pretty mess it is! It appears that Burle only paid him +in driblets and had got himself into a muddle—a confusion of figures +which the devil himself couldn’t disentangle. In short, Burle owes the +butcher two thousand francs, and Gagneux threatens that he’ll inform the +colonel if he is not paid. To make matters worse, Burle, just to blind me, +handed me every week a forged receipt which he had squarely signed with +Gagneux’s name. To think he did that to me, his old friend! Ah, curse +him!” +</p> + +<p> +With increasing profanity the major rose to his feet, shook his fist at the +ceiling and then fell back in his chair. Mme Burle again repeated: “He +has stolen. It was inevitable.” +</p> + +<p> +Then without a word of judgment or condemnation she added simply: “Two +thousand francs—we have not got them. There are barely thirty francs in +the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“I expected as much,” said Laguitte. “And do you know where +all the money goes? Why, Melanie gets it—yes, Melanie, a creature who has +turned Burle into a perfect fool. Ah, those women! Those fiendish women! I +always said they would do for him! I cannot conceive what he is made of! He is +only five years younger than I am, and yet he is as mad as ever. What a woman +hunter he is!” +</p> + +<p> +Another long silence followed. Outside the rain was increasing in violence, and +throughout the sleepy little town one could hear the crashing of slates and +chimney pots as they were dashed by the blast onto the pavements of the +streets. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” suddenly said the major, rising, “my stopping here +won’t mend matters. I have warned you—and now I’m off.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is to be done? To whom can we apply?” muttered the old woman +drearily. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t give way—we must consider. If I only had the two +thousand francs—but you know that I am not rich.” +</p> + +<p> +The major stopped short in confusion. This old bachelor, wifeless and +childless, spent his pay in drink and gambled away at ecarte whatever money his +cognac and absinthe left in his pocket. Despite that, however, he was +scrupulously honest from a sense of discipline. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” he added as he reached the threshold. +“I’ll begin by stirring him up. I shall move heaven and earth! +What! Burle, Colonel Burle’s son, condemned for theft! That cannot be! I +would sooner burn down the town. Now, thunder and lightning, don’t worry; +it is far more annoying for me than for you.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook the old lady’s hand roughly and vanished into the shadows of the +staircase, while she held the lamp aloft to light the way. When she returned +and replaced the lamp on the table she stood for a moment motionless in front +of Charles, who was still asleep with his face lying on the dictionary. His +pale cheeks and long fair hair made him look like a girl, and she gazed at him +dreamily, a shade of tenderness passing over her harsh countenance. But it was +only a passing emotion; her features regained their look of cold, obstinate +determination, and, giving the youngster a sharp rap on his little hand, she +said: +</p> + +<p> +“Charles—your lessons.” +</p> + +<p> +The boy awoke, dazed and shivering, and again rapidly turned over the leaves. +At the same moment Major Laguitte, slamming the house door behind him, received +on his head a quantity of water falling from the gutters above, whereupon he +began to swear in so loud a voice that he could be heard above the storm. And +after that no sound broke upon the pelting downpour save the slight rustle of +the boy’s pen traveling over the paper. Mme Burle had resumed her seat +near the chimney piece, still rigid, with her eyes fixed on the dead embers, +preserving, indeed, her habitual attitude and absorbed in her one idea. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"></a> CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3> THE CAFE</h3> + +<p> +The Café de Paris, kept by Melanie Cartier, a widow, was situated on the Place +du Palais, a large irregular square planted with meager, dusty elm trees. The +place was so well known in Vauchamp that it was customary to say, “Are +you coming to Melanie’s?” At the farther end of the first room, +which was a spacious one, there was another called “the divan,” a +narrow apartment having sham leather benches placed against the walls, while at +each corner there stood a marble-topped table. The widow, deserting her seat in +the front room, where she left her little servant Phrosine, spent her evenings +in the inner apartment, ministering to a few customers, the usual frequenters +of the place, those who were currently styled “the gentlemen of the +divan.” When a man belonged to that set it was as if he had a label on +his back; he was spoken of with smiles of mingled contempt and envy. +</p> + +<p> +Mme Cartier had become a widow when she was five and twenty. Her husband, a +wheelwright, who on the death of an uncle had amazed Vauchamp by taking the +Café de Paris, had one fine day brought her back with him from Montpellier, +where he was wont to repair twice a year to purchase liqueurs. As he was +stocking his establishment he selected, together with divers beverages, a woman +of the sort he wanted—of an engaging aspect and apt to stimulate the +trade of the house. It was never known where he had picked her up, but he +married her after trying her in the cafe during six months or so. Opinions were +divided in Vauchamp as to her merits, some folks declaring that she was superb, +while others asserted that she looked like a drum-major. She was a tall woman +with large features and coarse hair falling low over her forehead. However, +everyone agreed that she knew very well how to fool the sterner sex. She had +fine eyes and was wont to fix them with a bold stare on the gentlemen of the +divan, who colored and became like wax in her hands. She also had the +reputation of possessing a wonderfully fine figure, and southerners appreciate +a statuesque style of beauty. +</p> + +<p> +Cartier had died in a singular way. Rumor hinted at a conjugal quarrel, a kick, +producing some internal tumor. Whatever may have been the truth, Melanie found +herself encumbered with the cafe, which was far from doing a prosperous +business. Her husband had wasted his uncle’s inheritance in drinking his +own absinthe and wearing out the cloth of his own billiard table. For a while +it was believed that the widow would have to sell out, but she liked the life +and the establishment just as it was. If she could secure a few customers the +bigger room might remain deserted. So she limited herself to repapering the +divan in white and gold and recovering the benches. She began by entertaining a +chemist. Then a vermicelli maker, a lawyer and a retired magistrate put in an +appearance; and thus it was that the cafe remained open, although the waiter +did not receive twenty orders a day. No objections were raised by the +authorities, as appearances were kept up; and, indeed, it was not deemed +advisable to interfere, for some respectable folks might have been worried. +</p> + +<p> +Of an evening five or six well-to-do citizens would enter the front room and +play at dominoes there. Although Cartier was dead and the Café de Paris had got +a queer name, they saw nothing and kept up their old habits. In course of time, +the waiter having nothing to do, Melanie dismissed him and made Phrosine light +the solitary gas burner in the corner where the domino players congregated. +Occasionally a party of young men, attracted by the gossip that circulated +through the town, would come in, wildly excited and laughing loudly and +awkwardly. But they were received there with icy dignity. As a rule they did +not even see the widow, and even if she happened to be present she treated them +with withering disdain, so that they withdrew, stammering and confused. Melanie +was too astute to indulge in any compromising whims. While the front room +remained obscure, save in the corner where the few townsfolk rattled their +dominoes, she personally waited on the gentlemen of the divan, showing herself +amiable without being free, merely venturing in moments of familiarity to lean +on the shoulder of one or another of them, the better to watch a skillfully +played game of ecarte. +</p> + +<p> +One evening the gentlemen of the divan, who had ended by tolerating each +other’s presence, experienced a disagreeable surprise on finding Captain +Burle at home there. He had casually entered the cafe that same morning to get +a glass of vermouth, so it seemed, and he had found Melanie there. They had +conversed, and in the evening when he returned Phrosine immediately showed him +to the inner room. +</p> + +<p> +Two days later Burle reigned there supreme; still he had not frightened the +chemist, the vermicelli maker, the lawyer or the retired magistrate away. The +captain, who was short and dumpy, worshiped tall, plump women. In his regiment +he had been nicknamed “Petticoat Burle” on account of his constant +philandering. Whenever the officers, and even the privates, met some +monstrous-looking creature, some giantess puffed out with fat, whether she were +in velvet or in rags, they would invariably exclaim, “There goes one to +Petticoat Burle’s taste!” Thus Melanie, with her opulent presence, +quite conquered him. He was lost—quite wrecked. In less than a fortnight +he had fallen to vacuous imbecility. With much the expression of a whipped +hound in the tiny sunken eyes which lighted up his bloated face, he was +incessantly watching the widow in mute adoration before her masculine features +and stubby hair. For fear that he might be dismissed, he put up with the +presence of the other gentlemen of the divan and spent his pay in the place +down to the last copper. A sergeant reviewed the situation in one sentence: +“Petticoat Burle is done for; he’s a buried man!” +</p> + +<p> +It was nearly ten o’clock when Major Laguitte furiously flung the door of +the cafe open. For a moment those inside could see the deluged square +transformed into a dark sea of liquid mud, bubbling under the terrible +downpour. The major, now soaked to the skin and leaving a stream behind him, +strode up to the small counter where Phrosine was reading a novel. +</p> + +<p> +“You little wretch,” he yelled, “you have dared to gammon an +officer; you deserve—” +</p> + +<p> +And then he lifted his hand as if to deal a blow such as would have felled an +ox. The little maid shrank back, terrified, while the amazed domino players +looked, openmouthed. However, the major did not linger there—he pushed +the divan door open and appeared before Melanie and Burle just as the widow was +playfully making the captain sip his grog in small spoonfuls, as if she were +feeding a pet canary. Only the ex-magistrate and the chemist had come that +evening, and they had retired early in a melancholy frame of mind. Then +Melanie, being in want of three hundred francs for the morrow, had taken +advantage of the opportunity to cajole the captain. +</p> + +<p> +“Come.” she said, “open your mouth; ain’t it nice, you +greedy piggy-wiggy?” +</p> + +<p> +Burle, flushing scarlet, with glazed eyes and sunken figure, was sucking the +spoon with an air of intense enjoyment. +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens!” roared the major from the threshold. “You now +play tricks on me, do you? I’m sent to the roundabout and told that you +never came here, and yet all the while here you are, addling your silly +brains.” +</p> + +<p> +Burle shuddered, pushing the grog away, while Melanie stepped angrily in front +of him as if to shield him with her portly figure, but Laguitte looked at her +with that quiet, resolute expression well known to women who are familiar with +bodily chastisement. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave us,” he said curtly. +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated for the space of a second. She almost felt the gust of the +expected blow, and then, white with rage, she joined Phrosine in the outer +room. +</p> + +<p> +When the two men were alone Major Laguitte walked up to Burle, looked at him +and, slightly stooping, yelled into his face these two words: “You +pig!” +</p> + +<p> +The captain, quite dazed, endeavored to retort, but he had not time to do so. +</p> + +<p> +“Silence!” resumed the major. “You have bamboozled a friend. +You palmed off on me a lot of forged receipts which might have sent both of us +to the gallows. Do you call that proper behavior? Is that the sort of trick to +play a friend of thirty years’ standing?” +</p> + +<p> +Burle, who had fallen back in his chair, was livid; his limbs shook as if with +ague. Meanwhile the major, striding up and down and striking the tables wildly +with his fists, continued: “So you have become a thief like the veriest +scribbling cur of a clerk, and all for the sake of that creature here! If at +least you had stolen for your mother’s sake it would have been honorable! +But, curse it, to play tricks and bring the money into this shanty is what I +cannot understand! Tell me—what are you made of at your age to go to the +dogs as you are going all for the sake of a creature like a grenadier!” +</p> + +<p> +“YOU gamble—” stammered the captain. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I do—curse it!” thundered the major, lashed into still +greater fury by this remark. “And I am a pitiful rogue to do so, because +it swallows up all my pay and doesn’t redound to the honor of the French +army. However, I don’t steal. Kill yourself, if it pleases you; starve +your mother and the boy, but respect the regimental cashbox and don’t +drag your friends down with you.” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped. Burle was sitting there with fixed eyes and a stupid air. Nothing +was heard for a moment save the clatter of the major’s heels. +</p> + +<p> +“And not a single copper,” he continued aggressively. “Can +you picture yourself between two gendarmes, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +He then grew a little calmer, caught hold of Burle’s wrists and forced +him to rise. +</p> + +<p> +“Come!” he said gruffly. “Something must be done at once, for +I cannot go to bed with this affair on my mind—I have an idea.” +</p> + +<p> +In the front room Melanie and Phrosine were talking eagerly in low voices. When +the widow saw the two men leaving the divan she moved toward Burle and said +coaxingly: “What, are you going already, Captain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he’s going,” brutally answered Laguitte, “and I +don’t intend to let him set foot here again.” +</p> + +<p> +The little maid felt frightened and pulled her mistress back by the skirt of +her dress; in doing so she imprudently murmured the word “drunkard” +and thereby brought down the slap which the major’s hand had been itching +to deal for some time past. Both women having stooped, however, the blow only +fell on Phrosine’s back hair, flattening her cap and breaking her comb. +The domino players were indignant. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s cut it,” shouted Laguitte, and he pushed Burle on the +pavement. “If I remained I should smash everyone in the place.” +</p> + +<p> +To cross the square they had to wade up to their ankles in mud. The rain, +driven by the wind, poured off their faces. The captain walked on in silence, +while the major kept on reproaching him with his cowardice and its disastrous +consequences. Wasn’t it sweet weather for tramping the streets? If he +hadn’t been such an idiot they would both be warmly tucked in bed instead +of paddling about in the mud. Then he spoke of Gagneux—a scoundrel whose +diseased meat had on three separate occasions made the whole regiment ill. In a +week, however, the contract would come to an end, and the fiend himself would +not get it renewed. +</p> + +<p> +“It rests with me,” the major grumbled. “I can select +whomsoever I choose, and I’d rather cut off my right arm than put that +poisoner in the way of earning another copper.” +</p> + +<p> +Just then he slipped into a gutter and, half choked by a string of oaths, he +gasped: +</p> + +<p> +“You understand—I am going to rout up Gagneux. You must stop +outside while I go in. I must know what the rascal is up to and if he’ll +dare to carry out his threat of informing the colonel tomorrow. A +butcher—curse him! The idea of compromising oneself with a butcher! Ah, +you aren’t over-proud, and I shall never forgive you for all this.” +</p> + +<p> +They had now reached the Place aux Herbes. Gagneux’s house was quite +dark, but Laguitte knocked so loudly that he was eventually admitted. Burle +remained alone in the dense obscurity and did not even attempt to seek any +shelter. He stood at a corner of the market under the pelting rain, his head +filled with a loud buzzing noise which prevented him from thinking. He did not +feel impatient, for he was unconscious of the flight of time. He stood there +looking at the house, which, with its closed door and windows, seemed quite +lifeless. When at the end of an hour the major came out again it appeared to +the captain as if he had only just gone in. +</p> + +<p> +Laguitte was so grimly mute that Burle did not venture to question him. For a +moment they sought each other, groping about in the dark; then they resumed +their walk through the somber streets, where the water rolled as in the bed of +a torrent. They moved on in silence side by side, the major being so abstracted +that he even forgot to swear. However, as they again crossed the Place du +Palais, at the sight of the Café de Paris, which was still lit up, he dropped +his hand on Burle’s shoulder and said, “If you ever re-enter that +hole I—” +</p> + +<p> +“No fear!” answered the captain without letting his friend finish +his sentence. +</p> + +<p> +Then he stretched out his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said Laguitte, “I’ll see you home; I’ll +at least make sure that you’ll sleep in your bed tonight.” +</p> + +<p> +They went on, and as they ascended the Rue des Recollets they slackened their +pace. When the captain’s door was reached and Burle had taken out his +latchkey he ventured to ask: +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” answered the major gruffly, “I am as dirty a rogue as +you are. Yes! I have done a scurrilous thing. The fiend take you! Our soldiers +will eat carrion for three months longer.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he explained that Gagneux, the disgusting Gagneux, had a horribly level +head and that he had persuaded him—the major—to strike a bargain. +He would refrain from informing the colonel, and he would even make a present +of the two thousand francs and replace the forged receipts by genuine ones, on +condition that the major bound himself to renew the meat contract. It was a +settled thing. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” continued Laguitte, “calculate what profits the brute +must make out of the meat to part with such a sum as two thousand +francs.” +</p> + +<p> +Burle, choking with emotion, grasped his old friend’s hands, stammering +confused words of thanks. The vileness of the action committed for his sake +brought tears into his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I never did such a thing before,” growled Laguitte, “but I +was driven to it. Curse it, to think that I haven’t those two thousand +francs in my drawer! It is enough to make one hate cards. It is my own fault. I +am not worth much; only, mark my words, don’t begin again, for, curse +it—I shan’t.” +</p> + +<p> +The captain embraced him, and when he had entered the house the major stood a +moment before the closed door to make certain that he had gone upstairs to bed. +Then as midnight was striking and the rain was still belaboring the dark town, +he slowly turned homeward. The thought of his men almost broke his heart, and, +stopping short, he said aloud in a voice full of compassion: +</p> + +<p> +“Poor devils! what a lot of cow beef they’ll have to swallow for +those two thousand francs!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"></a> CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3> AGAIN?</h3> + +<p> +The regiment was altogether nonplused: Petticoat Burle had quarreled with +Melanie. When a week had elapsed it became a proved and undeniable fact; the +captain no longer set foot inside the Café de Paris, where the chemist, it was +averred, once more reigned in his stead, to the profound sorrow of the retired +magistrate. An even more incredible statement was that Captain Burle led the +life of a recluse in the Rue des Recollets. He was becoming a reformed +character; he spent his evenings at his own fireside, hearing little Charles +repeat his lessons. His mother, who had never breathed a word to him of his +manipulations with Gagneux, maintained her old severity of demeanor as she sat +opposite to him in her armchair, but her looks seemed to imply that she +believed him reclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +A fortnight later Major Laguitte came one evening to invite himself to dinner. +He felt some awkwardness at the prospect of meeting Burle again, not on his own +account but because he dreaded awakening painful memories. However, as the +captain was mending his ways he wished to shake hands and break a crust with +him. He thought this would please his old friend. +</p> + +<p> +When Laguitte arrived Burle was in his room, so it was the old lady who +received the major. The latter, after announcing that he had come to have a +plate of soup with them, added, lowering his voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, how goes it?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is all right,” answered the old lady. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing queer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely nothing. Never away—in bed at nine—and looking +quite happy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, confound it,” replied the major, “I knew very well he +only wanted a shaking. He has some heart left, the dog!” +</p> + +<p> +When Burle appeared he almost crushed the major’s hands in his grasp, and +standing before the fire, waiting for the dinner, they conversed peacefully, +honestly, together, extolling the charms of home life. The captain vowed he +wouldn’t exchange his home for a kingdom and declared that when he had +removed his braces, put on his slippers and settled himself in his armchair, no +king was fit to hold a candle to him. The major assented and examined him. At +all events his virtuous conduct had not made him any thinner; he still looked +bloated; his eyes were bleared, and his mouth was heavy. He seemed to be half +asleep as he repeated mechanically: “Home life! There’s nothing +like home life, nothing in the world!” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt,” said the major; “still, one mustn’t +exaggerate—take a little exercise and come to the cafe now and +then.” +</p> + +<p> +“To the cafe, why?” asked Burle. “Do I lack anything here? +No, no, I remain at home.” +</p> + +<p> +When Charles had laid his books aside Laguitte was surprised to see a maid come +in to lay the cloth. +</p> + +<p> +“So you keep a servant now,” he remarked to Mme Burle. +</p> + +<p> +“I had to get one,” she answered with a sigh. “My legs are +not what they used to be, and the household was going to rack and ruin. +Fortunately Cabrol let me have his daughter. You know old Cabrol, who sweeps +the market? He did not know what to do with Rose—I am teaching her how to +work.” +</p> + +<p> +Just then the girl left the room. +</p> + +<p> +“How old is she?” asked the major. +</p> + +<p> +“Barely seventeen. She is stupid and dirty, but I only give her ten +francs a month, and she eats nothing but soup.” +</p> + +<p> +When Rose returned with an armful of plates Laguitte, though he did not care +about women, began to scrutinize her and was amazed at seeing so ugly a +creature. She was very short, very dark and slightly deformed, with a face like +an ape’s: a flat nose, a huge mouth and narrow greenish eyes. Her broad +back and long arms gave her an appearance of great strength. +</p> + +<p> +“What a snout!” said Laguitte, laughing, when the maid had again +left the room to fetch the cruets. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” said Burle carelessly, “she is very obliging +and does all one asks her. She suits us well enough as a scullion.” +</p> + +<p> +The dinner was very pleasant. It consisted of boiled beef and mutton hash. +Charles was encouraged to relate some stories of his school, and Mme Burle +repeatedly asked him the same question: “Don’t you want to be a +soldier?” A faint smile hovered over the child’s wan lips as he +answered with the frightened obedience of a trained dog, “Oh yes, +Grandmother.” Captain Burle, with his elbows on the table, was +masticating slowly with an absent-minded expression. The big room was getting +warmer; the single lamp placed on the table left the corners in vague gloom. +There was a certain amount of heavy comfort, the familiar intimacy of penurious +people who do not change their plates at every course but become joyously +excited at the unexpected appearance of a bowl of whipped egg cream at the +close of the meal. +</p> + +<p> +Rose, whose heavy tread shook the floor as she paced round the table, had not +yet opened her mouth. At last she stopped behind the captain’s chair and +asked in a gruff voice: “Cheese, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +Burle started. “What, eh? Oh yes—cheese. Hold the plate +tight.” +</p> + +<p> +He cut a piece of Gruyere, the girl watching him the while with her narrow +eyes. Laguitte laughed; Rose’s unparalleled ugliness amused him +immensely. He whispered in the captain’s ear, “She is ripping! +There never was such a nose and such a mouth! You ought to send her to the +colonel’s someday as a curiosity. It would amuse him to see her.” +</p> + +<p> +More and more struck by this phenomenal ugliness, the major felt a paternal +desire to examine the girl more closely. +</p> + +<p> +“Come here,” he said, “I want some cheese too.” +</p> + +<p> +She brought the plate, and Laguitte, sticking the knife in the Gruyere, stared +at her, grinning the while because he discovered that she had one nostril +broader than the other. Rose gravely allowed herself to be looked at, waiting +till the gentleman had done laughing. +</p> + +<p> +She removed the cloth and disappeared. Burle immediately went to sleep in the +chimney corner while the major and Mme Burle began to chat. Charles had +returned to his exercises. Quietude fell from the loft ceiling; the quietude of +a middle-class household gathered in concord around their fireside. At nine +o’clock Burle woke up, yawned and announced that he was going off to bed; +he apologized but declared that he could not keep his eyes open. Half an hour +later, when the major took his leave, Mme Burle vainly called for Rose to light +him downstairs; the girl must have gone up to her room; she was, indeed, a +regular hen, snoring the round of the clock without waking. +</p> + +<p> +“No need to disturb anybody,” said Laguitte on the landing; +“my legs are not much better than yours, but if I get hold of the +banisters I shan’t break any bones. Now, my dear lady, I leave you happy; +your troubles are ended at last. I watched Burle closely, and I’ll take +my oath that he’s guileless as a child. Dash it—after all, it was +high time for Petticoat Burle to reform; he was going downhill fast.” +</p> + +<p> +The major went away fully satisfied with the house and its inmates; the walls +were of glass and could harbor no equivocal conduct. What particularly +delighted him in his friend’s return to virtue was that it absolved him +from the obligation of verifying the accounts. Nothing was more distasteful to +him than the inspection of a number of ledgers, and as long as Burle kept +steady, he—Laguitte—could smoke his pipe in peace and sign the +books in all confidence. However, he continued to keep one eye open for a +little while longer and found the receipts genuine, the entries correct, the +columns admirably balanced. A month later he contented himself with glancing at +the receipts and running his eye over the totals. Then one morning, without the +slightest suspicion of there being anything wrong, simply because he had lit a +second pipe and had nothing to do, he carelessly added up a row of figures and +fancied that he detected an error of thirteen francs. The balance seemed +perfectly correct, and yet he was not mistaken; the total outlay was thirteen +francs more than the various sums for which receipts were furnished. It looked +queer, but he said nothing to Burle, just making up his mind to examine the +next accounts closely. On the following week he detected a fresh error of +nineteen francs, and then, suddenly becoming alarmed, he shut himself up with +the books and spent a wretched morning poring over them, perspiring, swearing +and feeling as if his very skull were bursting with the figures. At every page +he discovered thefts of a few francs—the most miserable petty +thefts—ten, eight, eleven francs, latterly, three and four; and, indeed, +there was one column showing that Burle had pilfered just one franc and a half. +For two months, however, he had been steadily robbing the cashbox, and by +comparing dates the major found to his disgust that the famous lesson +respecting Gagneux had only kept him straight for one week! This last discovery +infuriated Laguitte, who struck the books with his clenched fists, yelling +through a shower of oaths: +</p> + +<p> +“This is more abominable still! At least there was some pluck about those +forged receipts of Gagneux. But this time he is as contemptible as a cook +charging twopence extra for her cabbages. Powers of hell! To pilfer a franc and +a half and clap it in his pocket! Hasn’t the brute got any pride then? +Couldn’t he run away with the safe or play the fool with +actresses?” +</p> + +<p> +The pitiful meanness of these pilferings revolted the major, and, moreover, he +was enraged at having been duped a second time, deceived by the simple, stupid +dodge of falsified additions. He rose at last and paced his office for a whole +hour, growling aloud. +</p> + +<p> +“This gives me his measure. Even if I were to thresh him to a jelly every +morning he would still drop a couple of coins into his pocket every afternoon. +But where can he spend it all? He is never seen abroad; he goes to bed at nine, +and everything looks so clean and proper over there. Can the brute have vices +that nobody knows of?” +</p> + +<p> +He returned to the desk, added up the subtracted money and found a total of +five hundred and forty-five francs. Where was this deficiency to come from? The +inspection was close at hand, and if the crotchety colonel should take it into +his head to examine a single page, the murder would be out and Burle would be +done for. +</p> + +<p> +This idea froze the major, who left off cursing, picturing Mme Burle erect and +despairing, and at the same time he felt his heart swell with personal grief +and shame. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” he muttered, “I must first of all look into the +rogue’s business; I will act afterward.” +</p> + +<p> +As he walked over to Burle’s office he caught sight of a skirt vanishing +through the doorway. Fancying that he had a clue to the mystery, he slipped up +quietly and listened and speedily recognized Melanie’s shrill voice. She +was complaining of the gentlemen of the divan. She had signed a promissory note +which she was unable to meet; the bailiffs were in the house, and all her goods +would be sold. The captain, however, barely replied to her. He alleged that he +had no money, whereupon she burst into tears and began to coax him. But her +blandishments were apparently ineffectual, for Burle’s husky voice could +be heard repeating, “Impossible! Impossible!” And finally the widow +withdrew in a towering passion. The major, amazed at the turn affairs were +taking, waited a few moments longer before entering the office, where Burle had +remained alone. He found him very calm, and despite his furious inclination to +call him names he also remained calm, determined to begin by finding out the +exact truth. +</p> + +<p> +The office certainly did not look like a swindler’s den. A cane-seated +chair, covered with an honest leather cushion, stood before the captain’s +desk, and in a corner there was the locked safe. Summer was coming on, and the +song of a canary sounded through the open window. The apartment was very neat +and tidy, redolent of old papers, and altogether its appearance inspired one +with confidence. +</p> + +<p> +“Wasn’t it Melanie who was leaving here as I came along?” +asked Laguitte. +</p> + +<p> +Burle shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he mumbled. “She has been dunning me for two hundred +francs, but she can’t screw ten out of me—not even tenpence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed!” said the major, just to try him. “I heard that you +had made up with her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I? Certainly not. I have done with the likes of her for good.” +</p> + +<p> +Laguitte went away, feeling greatly perplexed. Where had the five hundred and +forty-five francs gone? Had the idiot taken to drinking or gambling? He decided +to pay Burle a surprise visit that very evening at his own house, and maybe by +questioning his mother he might learn something. However, during the afternoon +his leg became very painful; latterly he had been feeling in ill-health, and he +had to use a stick so as not to limp too outrageously. This stick grieved him +sorely, and he declared with angry despair that he was now no better than a +pensioner. However, toward the evening, making a strong effort, he pulled +himself out of his armchair and, leaning heavily on his stick, dragged himself +through the darkness to the Rue des Recollets, which he reached about nine +o’clock. The street door was still unlocked, and on going up he stood +panting on the third landing, when he heard voices on the upper floor. One of +these voices was Burle’s, so he fancied, and out of curiosity he ascended +another flight of stairs. Then at the end of a passage on the left he saw a ray +of light coming from a door which stood ajar. As the creaking of his boots +resounded, this door was sharply closed, and he found himself in the dark. +</p> + +<p> +“Some cook going to bed!” he muttered angrily. “I’m a +fool.” +</p> + +<p> +All the same he groped his way as gently as possible to the door and listened. +Two people were talking in the room, and he stood aghast, for it was Burle and +that fright Rose! Then he listened, and the conversation he heard left him no +doubt of the awful truth. For a moment he lifted his stick as if to beat down +the door. Then he shuddered and, staggering back, leaned against the wall. His +legs were trembling under him, while in the darkness of the staircase he +brandished his stick as if it had been a saber. +</p> + +<p> +What was to be done? After his first moment of passion there had come thoughts +of the poor old lady below. And these made him hesitate. It was all over with +the captain now; when a man sank as low as that he was hardly worth the few +shovelfuls of earth that are thrown over carrion to prevent them from polluting +the atmosphere. Whatever might be said of Burle, however much one might try to +shame him, he would assuredly begin the next day. Ah, heavens, to think of it! +The money! The honor of the army! The name of Burle, that respected name, +dragged through the mire! By all that was holy this could and should not be! +</p> + +<p> +Presently the major softened. If he had only possessed five hundred and +forty-five francs! But he had not got such an amount. On the previous day he +had drunk too much cognac, just like a mere sub, and had lost shockingly at +cards. It served him right—he ought to have known better! And if he was +so lame he richly deserved it too; by rights, in fact, his leg ought to be much +worse. +</p> + +<p> +At last he crept downstairs and rang at the bell of Mme Burle’s flat. +Five minutes elapsed, and then the old lady appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting,” she said; “I +thought that dormouse Rose was still about. I must go and shake her.” +</p> + +<p> +But the major detained her. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Burle?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he has been snoring since nine o’clock. Would you like to +knock at his door?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, I only wanted to have a chat with you.” +</p> + +<p> +In the parlor Charles sat at his usual place, having just finished his +exercises. He looked terrified, and his poor little white hands were tremulous. +In point of fact, his grandmother, before sending him to bed, was wont to read +some martial stories aloud so as to develop the latent family heroism in his +bosom. That night she had selected the episode of the Vengeur, the man-of-war +freighted with dying heroes and sinking into the sea. The child, while +listening, had become almost hysterical, and his head was racked as with some +ghastly nightmare. +</p> + +<p> +Mme Burle asked the major to let her finish the perusal. “Long live the +republic!” She solemnly closed the volume. Charles was as white as a +sheet. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” said the old lady, “the duty of every French +soldier is to die for his country.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Grandmother.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the lad kissed her on the forehead and, shivering with fear, went to bed +in his big room, where the faintest creak of the paneling threw him into a cold +sweat. +</p> + +<p> +The major had listened with a grave face. Yes, by heavens! Honor was honor, and +he would never permit that wretched Burle to disgrace the old woman and the +boy! As the lad was so devoted to the military profession, it was necessary +that he should be able to enter Saint-Cyr with his head erect. +</p> + +<p> +When Mme Burle took up the lamp to show the major out, she passed the door of +the captain’s room, and stopped short, surprised to see the key outside, +which was a most unusual occurrence. +</p> + +<p> +“Do go in,” she said to Laguitte; “it is bad for him to sleep +so much.” +</p> + +<p> +And before he could interpose she had opened the door and stood transfixed on +finding the room empty. Laguitte turned crimson and looked so foolish that she +suddenly understood everything, enlightened by the sudden recollection of +several little incidents to which she had previously attached no importance. +</p> + +<p> +“You knew it—you knew it!” she stammered. “Why was I +not told? Oh, my God, to think of it! Ah, he has been stealing again—I +feel it!” +</p> + +<p> +She remained erect, white and rigid. Then she added in a harsh voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Look you—I wish he were dead!” +</p> + +<p> +Laguitte caught hold of both her hands, which for a moment he kept tightly +clasped in his own. Then he left her hurriedly, for he felt a lump rising in +his throat and tears coming to his eyes. Ah, by all the powers, this time his +mind was quite made up. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"></a> CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3> INSPECTION</h3> + +<p> +The regimental inspection was to take place at the end of the month. The major +had ten days before him. On the very next morning, however, he crawled, +limping, as far as the Café de Paris, where he ordered some beer. Melanie grew +pale when she saw him enter, and it was with a lively recollection of a certain +slap that Phrosine hastened to serve him. The major seemed very calm, however; +he called for a second chair to rest his bad leg upon and drank his beer +quietly like any other thirsty man. He had sat there for about an hour when he +saw two officers crossing the Place du Palais—Morandot, who commanded one +of the battalions of the regiment, and Captain Doucet. Thereupon he excitedly +waved his cane and shouted: “Come in and have a glass of beer with +me!” +</p> + +<p> +The officers dared not refuse, but when the maid had brought the beer Morandot +said to the major: “So you patronize this place now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—the beer is good.” +</p> + +<p> +Captain Doucet winked and asked archly: “Do you belong to the divan, +Major?” +</p> + +<p> +Laguitte chuckled but did not answer. Then the others began to chaff him about +Melanie, and he took their remarks good-naturedly, simply shrugging his +shoulders. The widow was undoubtedly a fine woman, however much people might +talk. Some of those who disparaged her would, in reality, be only too pleased +to win her good graces. Then turning to the little counter and assuming an +engaging air, he shouted: +</p> + +<p> +“Three more glasses, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +Melanie was so taken aback that she rose and brought the beer herself. The +major detained her at the table and forgot himself so far as to softly pat the +hand which she had carelessly placed on the back of a chair. Used as she was to +alternate brutality and flattery, she immediately became confident, believing +in a sudden whim of gallantry on the part of the “old wreck,” as +she was wont to style the major when talking with Phrosine. Doucet and Morandot +looked at each other in surprise. Was the major actually stepping into +Petticoat Burle’s shoes? The regiment would be convulsed if that were the +case. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, however, Laguitte, who kept his eye on the square, gave a start. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo, there’s Burle!” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is his time,” explained Phrosine. “The captain +passes every afternoon on his way from the office.” +</p> + +<p> +In spite of his lameness the major had risen to his feet, pushing aside the +chairs as he called out: “Burle! I say—come along and have a +glass.” +</p> + +<p> +The captain, quite aghast and unable to understand why Laguitte was at the +widow’s, advanced mechanically. He was so perplexed that he again +hesitated at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Another glass of beer,” ordered the major, and then turning to +Burle, he added, “What’s the matter with you? Come in. Are you +afraid of being eaten alive?” +</p> + +<p> +The captain took a seat, and an awkward pause followed. Melanie, who brought +the beer with trembling hands, dreaded some scene which might result in the +closing of her establishment. The major’s gallantry made her uneasy, and +she endeavored to slip away, but he invited her to drink with them, and before +she could refuse he had ordered Phrosine to bring a liqueur glass of anisette, +doing so with as much coolness as if he had been master of the house. Melanie +was thus compelled to sit down between the captain and Laguitte, who exclaimed +aggressively: “I WILL have ladies respected. We are French officers! Let +us drink Madame’s health!” +</p> + +<p> +Burle, with his eyes fixed on his glass, smiled in an embarrassed way. The two +officers, shocked at the proceedings, had already tried to get off. Fortunately +the cafe was deserted, save that the domino players were having their afternoon +game. At every fresh oath which came from the major they glanced around, +scandalized by such an unusual accession of customers and ready to threaten +Melanie that they would leave her for the Café de la Gare if the soldiery was +going to invade her place like flies that buzzed about, attracted by the +stickiness of the tables which Phrosine scoured only on Saturdays. She was now +reclining behind the counter, already reading a novel again. +</p> + +<p> +“How’s this—you are not drinking with Madame?” roughly +said the major to Burle. “Be civil at least!” +</p> + +<p> +Then as Doucet and Morandot were again preparing to leave, he stopped them. +</p> + +<p> +“Why can’t you wait? We’ll go together. It is only this brute +who never knows how to behave himself.” +</p> + +<p> +The two officers looked surprised at the major’s sudden bad temper. +Melanie attempted to restore peace and with a light laugh placed her hands on +the arms of both men. However, Laguitte disengaged himself. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he roared, “leave me alone. Why does he refuse to chink +glasses with you? I shall not allow you to be insulted—do you hear? I am +quite sick of him.” +</p> + +<p> +Burle, paling under the insult, turned slightly and said to Morandot, +“What does this mean? He calls me in here to insult me. Is he +drunk?” +</p> + +<p> +With a wild oath the major rose on his trembling legs and struck the +captain’s cheek with his open hand. Melanie dived and thus escaped one +half of the smack. An appalling uproar ensued. Phrosine screamed behind the +counter as if she herself had received the blow; the domino players also +entrenched themselves behind their table in fear lest the soldiers should draw +their swords and massacre them. However, Doucet and Morandot pinioned the +captain to prevent him from springing at the major’s throat and forcibly +let him to the door. When they got him outside they succeeded in quieting him a +little by repeating that Laguitte was quite in the wrong. They would lay the +affair before the colonel, having witnessed it, and the colonel would give his +decision. As soon as they had got Burle away they returned to the cafe where +they found Laguitte in reality greatly disturbed, with tears in his eyes but +affecting stolid indifference and slowly finishing his beer. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Major,” began Morandot, “that was very wrong on your +part. The captain is your inferior in rank, and you know that he won’t be +allowed to fight you.” +</p> + +<p> +“That remains to be seen,” answered the major. +</p> + +<p> +“But how has he offended you? He never uttered a word. Two old comrades +too; it is absurd.” +</p> + +<p> +The major made a vague gesture. “No matter. He annoyed me.” +</p> + +<p> +He could never be made to say anything else. Nothing more as to his motive was +ever known. All the same, the scandal was a terrible one. The regiment was +inclined to believe that Melanie, incensed by the captain’s defection, +had contrived to entrap the major, telling him some abominable stories and +prevailing upon him to insult and strike Burle publicly. Who would have thought +it of that old fogy Laguitte, who professed to be a woman hater? they said. So +he, too, had been caught at last. Despite the general indignation against +Melanie, this adventure made her very conspicuous, and her establishment soon +drove a flourishing business. +</p> + +<p> +On the following day the colonel summoned the major and the captain into his +presence. He censured them sternly, accusing them of disgracing their uniform +by frequenting unseemly haunts. What resolution had they come to, he asked, as +he could not authorize them to fight? This same question had occupied the whole +regiment for the last twenty-four hours. Apologies were unacceptable on account +of the blow, but as Laguitte was almost unable to stand, it was hoped that, +should the colonel insist upon it, some reconciliation might be patched up. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said the colonel, “will you accept me as +arbitrator?” +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon, Colonel,” interrupted the major; “I have +brought you my resignation. Here it is. That settles everything. Please name +the day for the duel.” +</p> + +<p> +Burle looked at Laguitte in amazement, and the colonel thought it his duty to +protest. +</p> + +<p> +“This is a most serious step, Major,” he began. “Two years +more and you would be entitled to your full pension.” +</p> + +<p> +But again did Laguitte cut him short, saying gruffly, “That is my own +affair.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, certainly! Well, I will send in your resignation, and as soon as it +is accepted I will fix a day for the duel.” +</p> + +<p> +The unexpected turn that events had taken startled the regiment. What possessed +that lunatic major to persist in cutting the throat of his old comrade Burle? +The officers again discussed Melanie; they even began to dream of her. There +must surely be something wonderful about her since she had completely +fascinated two such tough old veterans and brought them to a deadly feud. +Morandot, having met Laguitte, did not disguise his concern. If he—the +major—was not killed, what would he live upon? He had no fortune, and the +pension to which his cross of the Legion of Honor entitled him, with the half +of a full regimental pension which he would obtain on resigning, would barely +find him in bread. While Morandot was thus speaking Laguitte simply stared +before him with his round eyes, persevering in the dumb obstinacy born of his +narrow mind; and when his companion tried to question him regarding his hatred +for Burle, he simply made the same vague gesture as before and once again +repeated: +</p> + +<p> +“He annoyed me; so much the worse.” +</p> + +<p> +Every morning at mess and at the canteen the first words were: “Has the +acceptance of the major’s resignation arrived?” The duel was +impatiently expected and ardently discussed. The majority believed that +Laguitte would be run through the body in three seconds, for it was madness for +a man to fight with a paralyzed leg which did not even allow him to stand +upright. A few, however, shook their heads. Laguitte had never been a marvel of +intellect, that was true; for the last twenty years, indeed, he had been held +up as an example of stupidity, but there had been a time when he was known as +the best fencer of the regiment, and although he had begun as a drummer he had +won his epaulets as the commander of a battalion by the sanguine bravery of a +man who is quite unconscious of danger. On the other hand, Burle fenced +indifferently and passed for a poltroon. However, they would soon know what to +think. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the excitement became more and more intense as the acceptance of +Laguitte’s resignation was so long in coming. The major was unmistakably +the most anxious and upset of everybody. A week had passed by, and the general +inspection would commence two days later. Nothing, however, had come as yet. He +shuddered at the thought that he had, perhaps, struck his old friend and sent +in his resignation all in vain, without delaying the exposure for a single +minute. He had in reality reasoned thus: If he himself were killed he would not +have the worry of witnessing the scandal, and if he killed Burle, as he +expected to do, the affair would undoubtedly be hushed up. Thus he would save +the honor of the army, and the little chap would be able to get in at +Saint-Cyr. Ah, why wouldn’t those wretched scribblers at the War Office +hurry up a bit? The major could not keep still but was forever wandering about +before the post office, stopping the estafettes and questioning the +colonel’s orderly to find out if the acceptance had arrived. He lost his +sleep and, careless as to people’s remarks, he leaned more and more +heavily on his stick, hobbling about with no attempt to steady his gait. +</p> + +<p> +On the day before that fixed for the inspection he was, as usual, on his way to +the colonel’s quarters when he paused, startled, to see Mme Burle (who +was taking Charles to school) a few paces ahead of him. He had not met her +since the scene at the Café de Paris, for she had remained in seclusion at +home. Unmanned at thus meeting her, he stepped down to leave the whole sidewalk +free. Neither he nor the old lady bowed, and the little boy lifted his large +inquisitive eyes in mute surprise. Mme Burle, cold and erect, brushed past the +major without the least sign of emotion or recognition. When she had passed he +looked after her with an expression of stupefied compassion. +</p> + +<p> +“Confound it, I am no longer a man,” he growled, dashing away a +tear. +</p> + +<p> +When he arrived at the colonel’s quarters a captain in attendance greeted +him with the words: “It’s all right at last. The papers have +come.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” murmured Laguitte, growing very pale. +</p> + +<p> +And again he beheld the old lady walking on, relentlessly rigid and holding the +little boy’s hand. What! He had longed so eagerly for those papers for +eight days past, and now when the scraps had come he felt his brain on fire and +his heart lacerated. +</p> + +<p> +The duel took place on the morrow, in the barrack yard behind a low wall. The +air was keen, the sun shining brightly. Laguitte had almost to be carried to +the ground; one of his seconds supported him on one side, while on the other he +leaned heavily, on his stick. Burle looked half asleep; his face was puffy with +unhealthy fat, as if he had spent a night of debauchery. Not a word was spoken. +They were all anxious to have it over. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Doucet crossed the swords of the two adversaries and then drew back, +saying: “Set to, gentlemen.” +</p> + +<p> +Burle was the first to attack; he wanted to test Laguitte’s strength and +ascertain what he had to expect. For the last ten days the encounter had seemed +to him a ghastly nightmare which he could not fathom. At times a hideous +suspicion assailed him, but he put it aside with terror, for it meant death, +and he refused to believe that a friend could play him such a trick, even to +set things right. Besides, Laguitte’s leg reasssured him; he would prick +the major on the shoulder, and then all would be over. +</p> + +<p> +During well-nigh a couple of minutes the swords clashed, and then the captain +lunged, but the major, recovering his old suppleness of wrist, parried in a +masterly style, and if he had returned the attack Burle would have been pierced +through. The captain now fell back; he was livid, for he felt that he was at +the mercy of the man who had just spared him. At last he understood that this +was an execution. +</p> + +<p> +Laguitte, squarely poised on his infirm legs and seemingly turned to stone, +stood waiting. The two men looked at each other fixedly. In Burle’s +blurred eyes there arose a supplication—a prayer for pardon. He knew why +he was going to die, and like a child he promised not to transgress again. But +the major’s eyes remained implacable; honor had spoken, and he silenced +his emotion and his pity. +</p> + +<p> +“Let it end,” he muttered between his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +Then it was he who attacked. Like a flash of lightning his sword flamed, flying +from right to left, and then with a resistless thrust it pierced the breast of +the captain, who fell like a log without even a groan. +</p> + +<p> +Laguitte had released his hold upon his sword and stood gazing at that poor old +rascal Burle, who was stretched upon his back with his fat stomach bulging out. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God! My God!” repeated the major furiously and +despairingly, and then he began to swear. +</p> + +<p> +They led him away, and, both his legs failing him, he had to be supported on +either side, for he could not even use his stick. +</p> + +<p> +Two months later the ex-major was crawling slowly along in the sunlight down a +lonely street of Vauchamp, when he again found himself face to face with Mme +Burle and little Charles. They were both in deep mourning. He tried to avoid +them, but he now only walked with difficulty, and they advanced straight upon +him without hurrying or slackening their steps. Charles still had the same +gentle, girlish, frightened face, and Mme Burle retained her stern, rigid +demeanor, looking even harsher than ever. +</p> + +<p> +As Laguitte shrank into the corner of a doorway to leave the whole street to +them, she abruptly stopped in front of him and stretched out her hand. He +hesitated and then took it and pressed it, but he trembled so violently that he +made the old lady’s arm shake. They exchanged glances in silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Charles,” said the boy’s grandmother at last, “shake +hands with the major.” The boy obeyed without understanding. The major, +who was very pale, barely ventured to touch the child’s frail fingers; +then, feeling that he ought to speak, he stammered out: “You still intend +to send him to Saint-Cyr?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, when he is old enough,” answered Mme Burle. +</p> + +<p> +But during the following week Charles was carried off by typhoid fever. One +evening his grandmother had again read him the story of the Vengeur to make him +bold, and in the night he had become delirious. The poor little fellow died of +fright. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"></a> THE DEATH OF OLIVIER +BECAILLE</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"></a> CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3> MY PASSING</h3> + +<p> +It was on a Saturday, at six in the morning, that I died after a three +days’ illness. My wife was searching a trunk for some linen, and when she +rose and turned she saw me rigid, with open eyes and silent pulses. She ran to +me, fancying that I had fainted, touched my hands and bent over me. Then she +suddenly grew alarmed, burst into tears and stammered: +</p> + +<p> +“My God, my God! He is dead!” +</p> + +<p> +I heard everything, but the sounds seemed to come from a great distance. My +left eye still detected a faint glimmer, a whitish light in which all objects +melted, but my right eye was quite bereft of sight. It was the coma of my whole +being, as if a thunderbolt had struck me. My will was annihilated; not a fiber +of flesh obeyed my bidding. And yet amid the impotency of my inert limbs my +thoughts subsisted, sluggish and lazy, still perfectly clear. +</p> + +<p> +My poor Marguerite was crying; she had dropped on her knees beside the bed, +repeating in heart-rending tones: +</p> + +<p> +“He is dead! My God, he is dead!” +</p> + +<p> +Was this strange state of torpor, this immobility of the flesh, really death, +although the functions of the intellect were not arrested? Was my soul only +lingering for a brief space before it soared away forever? From my childhood +upward I had been subject to hysterical attacks, and twice in early youth I had +nearly succumbed to nervous fevers. By degrees all those who surrounded me had +got accustomed to consider me an invalid and to see me sickly. So much so that +I myself had forbidden my wife to call in a doctor when I had taken to my bed +on the day of our arrival at the cheap lodginghouse of the Rue Dauphine in +Paris. A little rest would soon set me right again; it was only the fatigue of +the journey which had caused my intolerable weariness. And yet I was conscious +of having felt singularly uneasy. We had left our province somewhat abruptly; +we were very poor and had barely enough money to support ourselves till I drew +my first month’s salary in the office where I had obtained a situation. +And now a sudden seizure was carrying me off! +</p> + +<p> +Was it really death? I had pictured to myself a darker night, a deeper silence. +As a little child I had already felt afraid to die. Being weak and +compassionately petted by everyone, I had concluded that I had not long to +live, that I should soon be buried, and the thought of the cold earth filled me +with a dread I could not master—a dread which haunted me day and night. +As I grew older the same terror pursued me. Sometimes, after long hours spent +in reasoning with myself, I thought that I had conquered my fear. I reflected, +“After all, what does it matter? One dies and all is over. It is the +common fate; nothing could be better or easier.” +</p> + +<p> +I then prided myself on being able to look death boldly in the face, but +suddenly a shiver froze my blood, and my dizzy anguish returned, as if a giant +hand had swung me over a dark abyss. It was some vision of the earth returning +and setting reason at naught. How often at night did I start up in bed, not +knowing what cold breath had swept over my slumbers but clasping my despairing +hands and moaning, “Must I die?” In those moments an icy horror +would stop my pulses while an appalling vision of dissolution rose before me. +It was with difficulty that I could get to sleep again. Indeed, sleep alarmed +me; it so closely resembled death. If I closed my eyes they might never open +again—I might slumber on forever. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot tell if others have endured the same torture; I only know that my own +life was made a torment by it. Death ever rose between me and all I loved; I +can remember how the thought of it poisoned the happiest moments I spent with +Marguerite. During the first months of our married life, when she lay sleeping +by my side and I dreamed of a fair future for her and with her, the foreboding +of some fatal separation dashed my hopes aside and embittered my delights. +Perhaps we should be parted on the morrow—nay, perhaps in an hour’s +time. Then utter discouragement assailed me; I wondered what the bliss of being +united availed me if it were to end in so cruel a disruption. +</p> + +<p> +My morbid imagination reveled in scenes of mourning. I speculated as to who +would be the first to depart, Marguerite or I. Either alternative caused me +harrowing grief, and tears rose to my eyes at the thought of our shattered +lives. At the happiest periods of my existence I often became a prey to grim +dejection such as nobody could understand but which was caused by the thought +of impending nihility. When I was most successful I was to general wonder most +depressed. The fatal question, “What avails it?” rang like a knell +in my ears. But the sharpest sting of this torment was that it came with a +secret sense of shame, which rendered me unable to confide my thoughts to +another. Husband and wife lying side by side in the darkened room may quiver +with the same shudder and yet remain mute, for people do not mention death any +more than they pronounce certain obscene words. Fear makes it nameless. +</p> + +<p> +I was musing thus while my dear Marguerite knelt sobbing at my feet. It grieved +me sorely to be unable to comfort her by telling her that I suffered no pain. +If death were merely the annihilation of the flesh it had been foolish of me to +harbor so much dread. I experienced a selfish kind of restfulness in which all +my cares were forgotten. My memory had become extraordinarily vivid. My whole +life passed before me rapidly like a play in which I no longer acted a part; it +was a curious and enjoyable sensation—I seemed to hear a far-off voice +relating my own history. +</p> + +<p> +I saw in particular a certain spot in the country near Guerande, on the way to +Piriac. The road turns sharply, and some scattered pine trees carelessly dot a +rocky slope. When I was seven years old I used to pass through those pines with +my father as far as a crumbling old house, where Marguerite’s parents +gave me pancakes. They were salt gatherers and earned a scanty livelihood by +working the adjacent salt marshes. Then I remembered the school at Nantes, +where I had grown up, leading a monotonous life within its ancient walls and +yearning for the broad horizon of Guerande and the salt marshes stretching to +the limitless sea widening under the sky. +</p> + +<p> +Next came a blank—my father was dead. I entered the hospital as clerk to +the managing board and led a dreary life with one solitary diversion: my Sunday +visits to the old house on Piriac road. The saltworks were doing badly; poverty +reigned in the land, and Marguerite’s parents were nearly penniless. +Marguerite, when merely a child, had been fond of me because I trundled her +about in a wheelbarrow, but on the morning when I asked her in marriage she +shrank from me with a frightened gesture, and I realized that she thought me +hideous. Her parents, however, consented at once; they looked upon my offer as +a godsend, and the daughter submissively acquiesced. When she became accustomed +to the idea of marrying me she did not seem to dislike it so much. On our +wedding day at Guerande the rain fell in torrents, and when we got home my +bride had to take off her dress, which was soaked through, and sit in her +petticoats. +</p> + +<p> +That was all the youth I ever had. We did not remain long in our province. One +day I found my wife in tears. She was miserable; life was so dull; she wanted +to get away. Six months later I had saved a little money by taking in extra +work after office hours, and through the influence of a friend of my +father’s I obtained a petty appointment in Paris. I started off to settle +there with the dear little woman so that she might cry no more. During the +night, which we spent in the third-class railway carriage, the seats being very +hard, I took her in my arms in order that she might sleep. +</p> + +<p> +That was the past, and now I had just died on the narrow couch of a Paris +lodginghouse, and my wife was crouching on the floor, crying bitterly. The +white light before my left eye was growing dim, but I remembered the room +perfectly. On the left there was a chest of drawers, on the right a mantelpiece +surmounted by a damaged clock without a pendulum, the hands of which marked ten +minutes past ten. The window overlooked the Rue Dauphine, a long, dark street. +All Paris seemed to pass below, and the noise was so great that the window +shook. +</p> + +<p> +We knew nobody in the city; we had hurried our departure, but I was not +expected at the office till the following Monday. Since I had taken to my bed I +had wondered at my imprisonment in this narrow room into which we had tumbled +after a railway journey of fifteen hours, followed by a hurried, confusing +transit through the noisy streets. My wife had nursed me with smiling +tenderness, but I knew that she was anxious. She would walk to the window, +glance out and return to the bedside, looking very pale and startled by the +sight of the busy thoroughfare, the aspect of the vast city of which she did +not know a single stone and which deafened her with its continuous roar. What +would happen to her if I never woke up again—alone, friendless and +unknowing as she was? +</p> + +<p> +Marguerite had caught hold of one of my hands which lay passive on the +coverlet, and, covering it with kisses, she repeated wildly: “Olivier, +answer me. Oh, my God, he is dead, dead!” +</p> + +<p> +So death was not complete annihilation. I could hear and think. I had been +uselessly alarmed all those years. I had not dropped into utter vacancy as I +had anticipated. I could not picture the disappearance of my being, the +suppression of all that I had been, without the possibility of renewed +existence. I had been wont to shudder whenever in any book or newspaper I came +across a date of a hundred years hence. A date at which I should no longer be +alive, a future which I should never see, filled me with unspeakable +uneasiness. Was I not the whole world, and would not the universe crumble away +when I was no more? +</p> + +<p> +To dream of life had been a cherished vision, but this could not possibly be +death. I should assuredly awake presently. Yes, in a few moments I would lean +over, take Marguerite in my arms and dry her tears. I would rest a little while +longer before going to my office, and then a new life would begin, brighter +than the last. However, I did not feel impatient; the commotion had been too +strong. It was wrong of Marguerite to give way like that when I had not even +the strength to turn my head on the pillow and smile at her. The next time that +she moaned out, “He is dead! Dead!” I would embrace her and murmur +softly so as not to startle her: “No, my darling, I was only asleep. You +see, I am alive, and I love you.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"></a> CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3> FUNERAL PREPARATIONS</h3> + +<p> +Marguerite’s cries had attracted attention, for all at once the door was +opened and a voice exclaimed: “What is the matter, neighbor? Is he +worse?” +</p> + +<p> +I recognized the voice; it was that of an elderly woman, Mme Gabin, who +occupied a room on the same floor. She had been most obliging since our arrival +and had evidently become interested in our concerns. On her own side she had +lost no time in telling us her history. A stern landlord had sold her furniture +during the previous winter to pay himself his rent, and since then she had +resided at the lodginghouse in the Rue Dauphine with her daughter Dede, a child +of ten. They both cut and pinked lamp shades, and between them they earned at +the utmost only two francs a day. +</p> + +<p> +“Heavens! Is it all over?” cried Mme Gabin, looking at me. +</p> + +<p> +I realized that she was drawing nearer. She examined me, touched me and, +turning to Marguerite, murmured compassionately: “Poor girl! Poor +girl!” +</p> + +<p> +My wife, wearied out, was sobbing like a child. Mme Gabin lifted her, placed +her in a dilapidated armchair near the fireplace and proceeded to comfort her. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, you’ll do yourself harm if you go on like this, my dear. +It’s no reason because your husband is gone that you should kill yourself +with weeping. Sure enough, when I lost Gabin I was just like you. I remained +three days without swallowing a morsel of food. But that didn’t help +me—on the contrary, it pulled me down. Come, for the Lord’s sake, +be sensible!” +</p> + +<p> +By degrees Marguerite grew calmer; she was exhausted, and it was only at +intervals that she gave way to a fresh flow of tears. Meanwhile the old woman +had taken possession of the room with a sort of rough authority. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t worry yourself,” she said as she bustled about. +“Neighbors must help each other. Luckily Dede has just gone to take the +work home. Ah, I see your trunks are not yet all unpacked, but I suppose there +is some linen in the chest of drawers, isn’t there?” +</p> + +<p> +I heard her pull a drawer open; she must have taken out a napkin which she +spread on the little table at the bedside. She then struck a match, which made +me think that she was lighting one of the candles on the mantelpiece and +placing it near me as a religious rite. I could follow her movements in the +room and divine all her actions. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor gentleman,” she muttered. “Luckily I heard you sobbing, +poor dear!” Suddenly the vague light which my left eye had detected +vanished. Mme Gabin had just closed my eyelids, but I had not felt her finger +on my face. When I understood this I felt chilled. +</p> + +<p> +The door had opened again, and Dede, the child of ten, now rushed in, calling +out in her shrill voice: “Mother, Mother! Ah, I knew you would be here! +Look here, there’s the money—three francs and four sous. I took +back three dozen lamp shades.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hush, hush! Hold your tongue,” vainly repeated the mother, who, as +the little girl chattered on, must have pointed to the bed, for I guessed that +the child felt perplexed and was backing toward the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Is the gentleman asleep?” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes—go and play,” said Mme Gabin. +</p> + +<p> +But the child did not go. She was, no doubt, staring at me with widely opened +eyes, startled and vaguely comprehending. Suddenly she seemed convulsed with +terror and ran out, upsetting a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“He is dead, Mother; he is dead!” she gasped. +</p> + +<p> +Profound silence followed. Marguerite, lying back in the armchair, had left off +crying. Mme Gabin was still rummaging about the room and talking under her +breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Children know everything nowadays. Look at that girl. Heaven knows how +carefully she’s brought up! When I send her on an errand or take the +shades back I calculate the time to a minute so that she can’t loiter +about, but for all that she learns everything. She saw at a glance what had +happened here—and yet I never showed her but one corpse, that of her +uncle Francois, and she was then only four years old. Ah well, there are no +children left—it can’t be helped.” +</p> + +<p> +She paused and without any transition passed to another subject. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, dearie, we must think of the formalities—there’s the +declaration at the municipal offices to be made and the seeing about the +funeral. You are not in a fit state to attend to business. What do you say if I +look in at Monsieur Simoneau’s to find out if he’s at home?” +</p> + +<p> +Marguerite did not reply. It seemed to me that I watched her from afar and at +times changed into a subtle flame hovering above the room, while a stranger lay +heavy and unconscious on my bed. I wished that Marguerite had declined the +assistance of Simoneau. I had seen him three or four times during my brief +illness, for he occupied a room close to ours and had been civil and +neighborly. Mme Gabin had told us that he was merely making a short stay in +Paris, having come to collect some old debts due to his father, who had settled +in the country and recently died. He was a tall, strong, handsome young man, +and I hated him, perhaps on account of his healthy appearance. On the previous +evening he had come in to make inquiries, and I had much disliked seeing him at +Marguerite’s side; she had looked so fair and pretty, and he had gazed so +intently into her face when she smilingly thanked him for his kindness. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, here is Monsieur Simoneau,” said Mme Gabin, introducing him. +</p> + +<p> +He gently pushed the door ajar, and as soon as Marguerite saw him enter she +burst into a flood of tears. The presence of a friend, of the only person she +knew in Paris besides the old woman, recalled her bereavement. I could not see +the young man, but in the darkness that encompassed me I conjured up his +appearance. I pictured him distinctly, grave and sad at finding poor Marguerite +in such distress. How lovely she must have looked with her golden hair unbound, +her pale face and her dear little baby hands burning with fever! +</p> + +<p> +“I am at your disposal, madame,” he said softly. “Pray allow +me to manage everything.” +</p> + +<p> +She only answered him with broken words, but as the young man was leaving, +accompanied by Mme Gabin, I heard the latter mention money. These things were +always expensive, she said, and she feared that the poor little body +hadn’t a farthing—anyhow, he might ask her. But Simoneau silenced +the old woman; he did not want to have the widow worried; he was going to the +municipal office and to the undertaker’s. +</p> + +<p> +When silence reigned once more I wondered if my nightmare would last much +longer. I was certainly alive, for I was conscious of passing incidents, and I +began to realize my condition. I must have fallen into one of those cataleptic +states that I had read of. As a child I had suffered from syncopes which had +lasted several hours, but surely my heart would beat anew, my blood circulate +and my muscles relax. Yes, I should wake up and comfort Marguerite, and, +reasoning thus, I tried to be patient. +</p> + +<p> +Time passed. Mme Gabin had brought in some breakfast, but Marguerite refused to +taste any food. Later on the afternoon waned. Through the open window I heard +the rising clamor of the Rue Dauphine. By and by a slight ringing of the brass +candlestick on the marble-topped table made me think that a fresh candle had +been lighted. At last Simoneau returned. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” whispered the old woman. +</p> + +<p> +“It is all settled,” he answered; “the funeral is ordered for +tomorrow at eleven. There is nothing for you to do, and you needn’t talk +of these things before the poor lady.” +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, Mme Gabin remarked: “The doctor of the dead hasn’t +come yet.” +</p> + +<p> +Simoneau took a seat beside Marguerite and after a few words of encouragement +remained silent. The funeral was to take place at eleven! Those words rang in +my brain like a passing bell. And the doctor coming—the doctor of the +dead, as Mme Gabin had called him. HE could not possibly fail to find out that +I was only in a state of lethargy; he would do whatever might be necessary to +rouse me, so I longed for his arrival with feverish anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +The day was drawing to a close. Mme Gabin, anxious to waste no time, had +brought in her lamp shades and summoned Dede without asking Marguerite’s +permission. “To tell the truth,” she observed, “I do not like +to leave children too long alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, I say,” she whispered to the little girl; “come in, +and don’t be frightened. Only don’t look toward the bed or +you’ll catch it.” +</p> + +<p> +She thought it decorous to forbid Dede to look at me, but I was convinced that +the child was furtively glancing at the corner where I lay, for every now and +then I heard her mother rap her knuckles and repeat angrily: “Get on with +your work or you shall leave the room, and the gentleman will come during the +night and pull you by the feet.” +</p> + +<p> +The mother and daughter had sat down at our table. I could plainly hear the +click of their scissors as they clipped the lamp shades, which no doubt +required very delicate manipulation, for they did not work rapidly. I counted +the shades one by one as they were laid aside, while my anxiety grew more and +more intense. +</p> + +<p> +The clicking of the scissors was the only noise in the room, so I concluded +that Marguerite had been overcome by fatigue and was dozing. Twice Simoneau +rose, and the torturing thought flashed through me that he might be taking +advantage of her slumbers to touch her hair with his lips. I hardly knew the +man and yet felt sure that he loved my wife. At last little Dede began to +giggle, and her laugh exasperated me. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you sniggering, you idiot?” asked her mother. “Do +you want to be turned out on the landing? Come, out with it; what makes you +laugh so?” +</p> + +<p> +The child stammered: she had not laughed; she had only coughed, but I felt +certain she had seen Simoneau bending over Marguerite and had felt amused. +</p> + +<p> +The lamp had been lit when a knock was heard at the door. +</p> + +<p> +“It must be the doctor at last,” said the old woman. +</p> + +<p> +It was the doctor; he did not apologize for coming so late, for he had no doubt +ascended many flights of stairs during the day. The room being but imperfectly +lighted by the lamp, he inquired: “Is the body here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is,” answered Simoneau. +</p> + +<p> +Marguerite had risen, trembling violently. Mme Gabin dismissed Dede, saying it +was useless that a child should be present, and then she tried to lead my wife +to the window, to spare her the sight of what was about to take place. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor quickly approached the bed. I guessed that he was bored, tired and +impatient. Had he touched my wrist? Had he placed his hand on my heart? I could +not tell, but I fancied that he had only carelessly bent over me. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I bring the lamp so that you may see better?” asked Simoneau +obligingly. +</p> + +<p> +“No it is not necessary,” quietly answered the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +Not necessary! That man held my life in his hands, and he did not think it +worth while to proceed to a careful examination! I was not dead! I wanted to +cry out that I was not dead! +</p> + +<p> +“At what o’clock did he die?” asked the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +“At six this morning,” volunteered Simoneau. +</p> + +<p> +A feeling of frenzy and rebellion rose within me, bound as I was in seemingly +iron chains. Oh, for the power of uttering one word, of moving a single limb! +</p> + +<p> +“This close weather is unhealthy,” resumed the doctor; +“nothing is more trying than these early spring days.” +</p> + +<p> +And then he moved away. It was like my life departing. Screams, sobs and +insults were choking me, struggling in my convulsed throat, in which even my +breath was arrested. The wretch! Turned into a mere machine by professional +habits, he only came to a deathbed to accomplish a perfunctory formality; he +knew nothing; his science was a lie, since he could not at a glance distinguish +life from death—and now he was going—going! +</p> + +<p> +“Good night, sir,” said Simoneau. +</p> + +<p> +There came a moment’s silence; the doctor was probably bowing to +Marguerite, who had turned while Mme Gabin was fastening the window. He left +the room, and I heard his footsteps descending the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +It was all over; I was condemned. My last hope had vanished with that man. If I +did not wake before eleven on the morrow I should be buried alive. The horror +of that thought was so great that I lost all consciousness of my +surroundings—’twas something like a fainting fit in death. The last +sound I heard was the clicking of the scissors handled by Mme Gabin and Dede. +The funeral vigil had begun; nobody spoke. +</p> + +<p> +Marguerite had refused to retire to rest in the neighbor’s room. She +remained reclining in her armchair, with her beautiful face pale, her eyes +closed and her long lashes wet with tears, while before her in the gloom +Simoneau sat silently watching her. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"></a> CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3> THE PROCESSION</h3> + +<p> +I cannot describe my agony during the morning of the following day. I remember +it as a hideous dream in which my impressions were so ghastly and so confused +that I could not formulate them. The persistent yearning for a sudden awakening +increased my torture, and as the hour for the funeral drew nearer my anguish +became more poignant still. +</p> + +<p> +It was only at daybreak that I had recovered a fuller consciousness of what was +going on around me. The creaking of hinges startled me out of my stupor. Mme +Gabin had just opened the window. It must have been about seven o’clock, +for I heard the cries of hawkers in the street, the shrill voice of a girl +offering groundsel and the hoarse voice of a man shouting +“Carrots!” The clamorous awakening of Paris pacified me at first. I +could not believe that I should be laid under the sod in the midst of so much +life; and, besides, a sudden thought helped to calm me. It had just occurred to +me that I had witnessed a case similar to my own when I was employed at the +hospital of Guerande. A man had been sleeping twenty-eight hours, the doctors +hesitating in presence of his apparent lifelessness, when suddenly he had sat +up in bed and was almost at once able to rise. I myself had already been asleep +for some twenty-five hours; if I awoke at ten I should still be in time. +</p> + +<p> +I endeavored to ascertain who was in the room and what was going on there. Dede +must have been playing on the landing, for once when the door opened I heard +her shrill childish laughter outside. Simoneau must have retired, for nothing +indicated his presence. Mme Gabin’s slipshod tread was still audible over +the floor. At last she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, my dear,” she said. “It is wrong of you not to take it +while it is hot. It would cheer you up.” +</p> + +<p> +She was addressing Marguerite, and a slow trickling sound as of something +filtering indicated that she had been making some coffee. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t mind owning,” she continued, “that I needed +it. At my age sitting up IS trying. The night seems so dreary when there is a +misfortune in the house. DO have a cup of coffee, my dear—just a +drop.” +</p> + +<p> +She persuaded Marguerite to taste it. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t it nice and hot?” she continued, “and +doesn’t it set one up? Ah, you’ll be wanting all your strength +presently for what you’ve got to go through today. Now if you were +sensible you’d step into my room and just wait there.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I want to stay here,” said Marguerite resolutely. +</p> + +<p> +Her voice, which I had not heard since the previous evening, touched me +strangely. It was changed, broken as by tears. To feel my dear wife near me was +a last consolation. I knew that her eyes were fastened on me and that she was +weeping with all the anguish of her heart. +</p> + +<p> +The minutes flew by. An inexplicable noise sounded from beyond the door. It +seemed as if some people were bringing a bulky piece of furniture upstairs and +knocking against the walls as they did so. Suddenly I understood, as I heard +Marguerite begin to sob; it was the coffin. +</p> + +<p> +“You are too early,” said Mme Gabin crossly. “Put it behind +the bed.” +</p> + +<p> +What o’clock was it? Nine, perhaps. So the coffin had come. Amid the +opaque night around me I could see it plainly, quite new, with roughly planed +boards. Heavens! Was this the end then? Was I to be borne off in that box which +I realized was lying at my feet? +</p> + +<p> +However, I had one supreme joy. Marguerite, in spite of her weakness, insisted +upon discharging all the last offices. Assisted by the old woman, she dressed +me with all the tenderness of a wife and a sister. Once more I felt myself in +her arms as she clothed me in various garments. She paused at times, overcome +by grief; she clasped me convulsively, and her tears rained on my face. Oh, how +I longed to return her embrace and cry, “I live!” And yet I was +lying there powerless, motionless, inert! +</p> + +<p> +“You are foolish,” suddenly said Mme Gabin; “it is all +wasted.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind,” answered Marguerite, sobbing. “I want him to +wear his very best things.” +</p> + +<p> +I understood that she was dressing me in the clothes I had worn on my wedding +day. I had kept them carefully for great occasions. When she had finished she +fell back exhausted in the armchair. +</p> + +<p> +Simoneau now spoke; he had probably just entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +“They are below,” he whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it ain’t any too soon,” answered Mme Gabin, also +lowering her voice. “Tell them to come up and get it over.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I dread the despair of the poor little wife.” +</p> + +<p> +The old woman seemed to reflect and presently resumed: “Listen to me, +Monsieur Simoneau. You must take her off to my room. I wouldn’t have her +stop here. It is for her own good. When she is out of the way we’ll get +it done in a jiffy.” +</p> + +<p> +These words pierced my heart, and my anguish was intense when I realized that a +struggle was actually taking place. Simoneau had walked up to Marguerite, +imploring her to leave the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Do, for pity’s sake, come with me!” he pleaded. “Spare +yourself useless pain.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no!” she cried. “I will remain till the last minute. +Remember that I have only him in the world, and when he is gone I shall be all +alone!” +</p> + +<p> +From the bedside Mme Gabin was prompting the young man. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t parley—take hold of her, carry her off in your +arms.” +</p> + +<p> +Was Simoneau about to lay his hands on Marguerite and bear her away? She +screamed. I wildly endeavored to rise, but the springs of my limbs were broken. +I remained rigid, unable to lift my eyelids to see what was going on. The +struggle continued, and my wife clung to the furniture, repeating, “Oh, +don’t, don’t! Have mercy! Let me go! I will not—” +</p> + +<p> +He must have lifted her in his stalwart arms, for I heard her moaning like a +child. He bore her away; her sobs were lost in the distance, and I fancied I +saw them both—he, tall and strong, pressing her to his breast; she, +fainting, powerless and conquered, following him wherever he listed. +</p> + +<p> +“Drat it all! What a to-do!” muttered Mme Gabin. “Now for the +tug of war, as the coast is clear at last.” +</p> + +<p> +In my jealous madness I looked upon this incident as a monstrous outrage. I had +not been able to see Marguerite for twenty-four hours, but at least I had still +heard her voice. Now even this was denied me; she had been torn away; a man had +eloped with her even before I was laid under the sod. He was alone with her on +the other side of the wall, comforting her—embracing her, perhaps! +</p> + +<p> +But the door opened once more, and heavy footsteps shook the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“Quick, make haste,” repeated Mme Gabin. “Get it done before +the lady comes back.” +</p> + +<p> +She was speaking to some strangers, who merely answered her with uncouth +grunts. +</p> + +<p> +“You understand,” she went on, “I am not a relation; +I’m only a neighbor. I have no interest in the matter. It is out of pure +good nature that I have mixed myself up in their affairs. And I ain’t +overcheerful, I can tell you. Yes, yes, I sat up the whole blessed +night—it was pretty cold, too, about four o’clock. That’s a +fact. Well, I have always been a fool—I’m too soft-hearted.” +</p> + +<p> +The coffin had been dragged into the center of the room. As I had not awakened +I was condemned. All clearness departed from my ideas; everything seemed to +revolve in a black haze, and I experienced such utter lassitude that it seemed +almost a relief to leave off hoping. +</p> + +<p> +“They haven’t spared the material,” said one of the +undertaker’s men in a gruff voice. “The box is too long.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll have all the more room,” said the other, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +I was not heavy, and they chuckled over it since they had three flights of +stairs to descend. As they were seizing me by the shoulders and feet I heard +Mme Gabin fly into a violent passion. +</p> + +<p> +“You cursed little brat,” she screamed, “what do you mean by +poking your nose where you’re not wanted? Look here, I’ll teach you +to spy and pry.” +</p> + +<p> +Dede had slipped her tousled head through the doorway to see how the gentleman +was being put into the box. Two ringing slaps resounded, however, by an +explosion of sobs. And as soon as the mother returned she began to gossip about +her daughter for the benefit of the two men who were settling me in the coffin. +</p> + +<p> +“She is only ten, you know. She is not a bad girl, but she is frightfully +inquisitive. I do not beat her often; only I WILL be obeyed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” said one of the men, “all kids are alike. Whenever +there is a corpse lying about they always want to see it.” +</p> + +<p> +I was commodiously stretched out, and I might have thought myself still in bed, +had it not been that my left arm felt a trifle cramped from being squeezed +against a board. The men had been right. I was pretty comfortable inside on +account of my diminutive stature. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop!” suddenly exclaimed Mme Gabin. “I promised his wife to +put a pillow under his head.” +</p> + +<p> +The men, who were in a hurry, stuffed in the pillow roughly. One of them, who +had mislaid his hammer, began to swear. He had left the tool below and went to +fetch it, dropping the lid, and when two sharp blows of the hammer drove in the +first nail, a shock ran through my being—I had ceased to live. The nails +then entered in rapid succession with a rhythmical cadence. It was as if some +packers had been closing a case of dried fruit with easy dexterity. After that +such sounds as reached me were deadened and strangely prolonged, as if the deal +coffin had been changed into a huge musical box. The last words spoken in the +room of the Rue Dauphine—at least the last ones that I heard +distinctly—were uttered by Mme Gabin. +</p> + +<p> +“Mind the staircase,” she said; “the banister of the second +flight isn’t safe, so be careful.” +</p> + +<p> +While I was being carried down I experienced a sensation similar to that of +pitching as when one is on board a ship in a rough sea. However, from that +moment my impressions became more and more vague. I remember that the only +distinct thought that still possessed me was an imbecile, impulsive curiosity +as to the road by which I should be taken to the cemetery. I was not acquainted +with a single street of Paris, and I was ignorant of the position of the large +burial grounds (though of course I had occasionally heard their names), and yet +every effort of my mind was directed toward ascertaining whether we were +turning to the right or to the left. Meanwhile the jolting of the hearse over +the paving stones, the rumbling of passing vehicles, the steps of the foot +passengers, all created a confused clamor, intensified by the acoustical +properties of the coffin. +</p> + +<p> +At first I followed our course pretty closely; then came a halt. I was again +lifted and carried about, and I concluded that we were in church, but when the +funeral procession once more moved onward I lost all consciousness of the road +we took. A ringing of bells informed me that we were passing another church, +and then the softer and easier progress of the wheels indicated that we were +skirting a garden or park. I was like a victim being taken to the gallows, +awaiting in stupor a deathblow that never came. +</p> + +<p> +At last they stopped and pulled me out of the hearse. The business proceeded +rapidly. The noises had ceased; I knew that I was in a deserted space amid +avenues of trees and with the broad sky over my head. No doubt a few persons +followed the bier, some of the inhabitants of the lodginghouse, +perhaps—Simoneau and others, for instance—for faint whisperings +reached my ear. Then I heard a psalm chanted and some Latin words mumbled by a +priest, and afterward I suddenly felt myself sinking, while the ropes rubbing +against the edges of the coffin elicited lugubrious sounds, as if a bow were +being drawn across the strings of a cracked violoncello. It was the end. On the +left side of my head I felt a violent shock like that produced by the bursting +of a bomb, with another under my feet and a third more violent still on my +chest. So forcible, indeed, was this last one that I thought the lid was cleft +atwain. I fainted from it. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"></a> CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3> THE NAIL</h3> + +<p> +It is impossible for me to say how long my swoon lasted. Eternity is not of +longer duration than one second spent in nihility. I was no more. It was slowly +and confusedly that I regained some degree of consciousness. I was still +asleep, but I began to dream; a nightmare started into shape amid the blackness +of my horizon, a nightmare compounded of a strange fancy which in other days +had haunted my morbid imagination whenever with my propensity for dwelling upon +hideous thoughts I had conjured up catastrophes. +</p> + +<p> +Thus I dreamed that my wife was expecting me somewhere—at Guerande, I +believe—and that I was going to join her by rail. As we passed through a +tunnel a deafening roll thundered over our head, and a sudden subsidence +blocked up both issues of the tunnel, leaving our train intact in the center. +We were walled up by blocks of rock in the heart of a mountain. Then a long and +fearful agony commenced. No assistance could possibly reach us; even with +powerful engines and incessant labor it would take a month to clear the tunnel. +We were prisoners there with no outlet, and so our death was only a question of +time. +</p> + +<p> +My fancy had often dwelt on that hideous drama and had constantly varied the +details and touches. My actors were men, women and children; their number +increased to hundreds, and they were ever furnishing me with new incidents. +There were some provisions in the train, but these were soon exhausted, and the +hungry passengers, if they did not actually devour human flesh, at least fought +furiously over the last piece of bread. Sometimes an aged man was driven back +with blows and slowly perished; a mother struggled like a she-wolf to keep +three or four mouthfuls for her child. In my own compartment a bride and +bridegroom were dying, clasped in each other’s arms in mute despair. +</p> + +<p> +The line was free along the whole length of the train, and people came and +went, prowling round the carriages like beasts of prey in search of carrion. +All classes were mingled together. A millionaire, a high functionary, it was +said, wept on a workman’s shoulder. The lamps had been extinguished from +the first, and the engine fire was nearly out. To pass from one carriage to +another it was necessary to grope about, and thus, too, one slowly reached the +engine, recognizable by its enormous barrel, its cold, motionless flanks, its +useless strength, its grim silence, in the overwhelming night. Nothing could be +more appalling than this train entombed alive with its passengers perishing one +by one. +</p> + +<p> +I gloated over the ghastliness of each detail; howls resounded through the +vault; somebody whom one could not see, whose vicinity was not even suspected, +would suddenly drop upon another’s shoulder. But what affected me most of +all was the cold and the want of air. I have never felt so chilled; a mantle of +snow seemed to enwrap me; heavy moisture rained upon my skull; I was gasping; +the rocky vault seemed to crush my chest; the whole mountain was seemingly +weighing upon me. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly a cry of deliverance sounded. For some time past we fancied that we +could hear a dull sound, and we tried to hope that men were at work and that +help was coming, but it came not thus. One of the passengers, however, had +discovered an air shaft in the tunnel, and, crowding round, we all saw this +shaft, above which we could discern a blue patch about the size of a wafer. +That blue patch filled us with rapture, for it was the sky. We stretched +ourselves and stood on tiptoes to breathe more freely. Then we distinguished +some black specks moving about, specks that must surely be workmen about to +deliver us. A furious clamor arose. The cry “Saved! Saved!” burst +from every mouth, while trembling arms were uplifted toward the tiny azure +patch above. +</p> + +<p> +That roar of voices aroused me. Where was I? In the tunnel, of course. I was +lying at full length; hard walls were pressing against my ribs. Then I +attempted to rise and struck my head roughly. Was it the rock closing in on all +sides? The blue speck had vanished—aye, the sky had disappeared and I was +still suffocating, shivering, with chattering teeth. +</p> + +<p> +All at once I remembered. Intense horror raised my hair on end. I felt the +hideous truth freeze me from head to foot like ice. I had shaken off the long +coma which for many hours had stricken me with corpselike rigidity. Yes, I +could move; my hands could feel the boards of my coffin; my lips parted; words +came to me, and instinctively I called out Marguerite’s name. It was a +scream I raised. In that deal box my voice took so hoarse and weird a sound +that it terrified me. Oh, my God, was this thing true? I was able to walk, +speak, cry out that I was living, and yet my voice could not be heard; I was +entombed under the earth. +</p> + +<p> +I made a desperate effort to remain calm and reflect. Was there no means of +getting out? Then my dream began afresh in my troubled brain. The fanciful air +shaft with the blue bit of sky overhead was mingled with the real grave in +which I was lying. I stared at the darkness with widely opened eyes; perhaps I +might discover a hole, a slit, a glimmer of light, but only sparks of fire +flitted through that night, with rays that broadened and then faded away. I was +in a somber abyss again. With returning lucidity I struggled against these +fatal visions. Indeed, I should need all my reason if I meant to try to save +myself. +</p> + +<p> +The most immediate peril lay in an increasing sense of suffocation. If I had +been able to live so long without air it was owing to suspended animation, +which had changed all the normal conditions of my existence, but now that my +heart beat and my lungs breathed I should die, asphyxiated, if I did not +promptly liberate myself. I also suffered from cold and dreaded lest I should +succumb to the mortal numbness of those who fall asleep in the snow, never to +wake again. Still, while unceasingly realizing the necessity of remaining calm, +I felt maddening blasts sweep through my brain, and to quiet my senses I +exhorted myself to patience, trying to remember the circumstances of my burial. +Probably the ground had been bought for five years, and this would be against +my chances of self-deliverance, for I remembered having noticed at Nantes that +in the trenches of the common graves one end of the last lowered coffins +protruded into the next open cavity, in which case I should only have had to +break through one plank. But if I were in a separate hole, filled up above me +with earth, the obstacles would prove too great. Had I not been told that the +dead were buried six feet deep in Paris? How was I to get through the enormous +mass of soil above me? Even if I succeeded in slitting the lid of my bier open +the mold would drift in like fine sand and fill my mouth and eyes. That would +be death again, a ghastly death, like drowning in mud. +</p> + +<p> +However, I began to feel the planks carefully. The coffin was roomy, and I +found that I was able to move my arms with tolerable ease. On both sides the +roughly planed boards were stout and resistive. I slipped my arm onto my chest +to raise it over my head. There I discovered in the top plank a knot in the +wood which yielded slightly at my pressure. Working laboriously, I finally +succeeded in driving out this knot, and on passing my finger through the hole I +found that the earth was wet and clayey. But that availed me little. I even +regretted having removed the knot, vaguely dreading the irruption of the mold. +A second experiment occupied me for a while. I tapped all over the coffin to +ascertain if perhaps there were any vacuum outside. But the sound was +everywhere the same. At last, as I was slightly kicking the foot of the coffin, +I fancied that it gave out a clearer echoing noise, but that might merely be +produced by the sonority of the wood. +</p> + +<p> +At any rate, I began to press against the boards with my arms and my closed +fists. In the same way, too, I used my knees, my back and my feet without +eliciting even a creak from the wood. I strained with all my strength, indeed, +with so desperate an effort of my whole frame, that my bruised bones seemed +breaking. But nothing moved, and I became insane. +</p> + +<p> +Until that moment I had held delirium at bay. I had mastered the intoxicating +rage which was mounting to my head like the fumes of alcohol; I had silenced my +screams, for I feared that if I again cried out aloud I should be undone. But +now I yelled; I shouted; unearthly howls which I could not repress came from my +relaxed throat. I called for help in a voice that I did not recognize, growing +wilder with each fresh appeal and crying out that I would not die. I also tore +at the wood with my nails; I writhed with the contortions of a caged wolf. I do +not know how long this fit of madness lasted, but I can still feel the +relentless hardness of the box that imprisoned me; I can still hear the storm +of shrieks and sobs with which I filled it; a remaining glimmer of reason made +me try to stop, but I could not do so. +</p> + +<p> +Great exhaustion followed. I lay waiting for death in a state of somnolent +pain. The coffin was like stone, which no effort could break, and the +conviction that I was powerless left me unnerved, without courage to make any +fresh attempts. Another suffering—hunger—was presently added to +cold and want of air. The torture soon became intolerable. With my finger I +tried to pull small pinches of earth through the hole of the dislodged knot, +and I swallowed them eagerly, only increasing my torment. Tempted by my flesh, +I bit my arms and sucked my skin with a fiendish desire to drive my teeth in, +but I was afraid of drawing blood. +</p> + +<p> +Then I ardently longed for death. All my life long I had trembled at the +thought of dissolution, but I had come to yearn for it, to crave for an +everlasting night that could never be dark enough. How childish it had been of +me to dread the long, dreamless sleep, the eternity of silence and gloom! Death +was kind, for in suppressing life it put an end to suffering. Oh, to sleep like +the stones, to be no more! +</p> + +<p> +With groping hands I still continued feeling the wood, and suddenly I pricked +my left thumb. That slight pain roused me from my growing numbness. I felt +again and found a nail—a nail which the undertaker’s men had driven +in crookedly and which had not caught in the lower wood. It was long and very +sharp; the head was secured to the lid, but it moved. Henceforth I had but one +idea—to possess myself of that nail—and I slipped my right hand +across my body and began to shake it. I made but little progress, however; it +was a difficult job, for my hands soon tired, and I had to use them +alternately. The left one, too, was of little use on account of the +nail’s awkward position. +</p> + +<p> +While I was obstinately persevering a plan dawned on my mind. That nail meant +salvation, and I must have it. But should I get it in time? Hunger was +torturing me; my brain was swimming; my limbs were losing their strength; my +mind was becoming confused. I had sucked the drops that trickled from my +punctured finger, and suddenly I bit my arm and drank my own blood! Thereupon, +spurred on by pain, revived by the tepid, acrid liquor that moistened my lips, +I tore desperately at the nail and at last I wrenched it off! +</p> + +<p> +I then believed in success. My plan was a simple one; I pushed the point of the +nail into the lid, dragging it along as far as I could in a straight line and +working it so as to make a slit in the wood. My fingers stiffened, but I +doggedly persevered, and when I fancied that I had sufficiently cut into the +board I turned on my stomach and, lifting myself on my knees and elbows thrust +the whole strength of my back against the lid. But although it creaked it did +not yield; the notched line was not deep enough. I had to resume my old +position—which I only managed to do with infinite trouble—and work +afresh. At last after another supreme effort the lid was cleft from end to end. +</p> + +<p> +I was not saved as yet, but my heart beat with renewed hope. I had ceased +pushing and remained motionless, lest a sudden fall of earth should bury me. I +intended to use the lid as a screen and, thus protected, to open a sort of +shaft in the clayey soil. Unfortunately I was assailed by unexpected +difficulties. Some heavy clods of earth weighed upon the boards and made them +unmanageable; I foresaw that I should never reach the surface in that way, for +the mass of soil was already bending my spine and crushing my face. +</p> + +<p> +Once more I stopped, affrighted; then suddenly, while I was stretching my legs, +trying to find something firm against which I might rest my feet, I felt the +end board of the coffin yielding. I at once gave a desperate kick with my heels +in the faint hope that there might be a freshly dug grave in that direction. +</p> + +<p> +It was so. My feet abruptly forced their way into space. An open grave was +there; I had only a slight partition of earth to displace, and soon I rolled +into the cavity. I was saved! +</p> + +<p> +I remained for a time lying on my back in the open grave, with my eyes raised +to heaven. It was dark; the stars were shining in a sky of velvety blueness. +Now and then the rising breeze wafted a springlike freshness, a perfume of +foliage, upon me. I was saved! I could breathe; I felt warm, and I wept and I +stammered, with my arms prayerfully extended toward the starry sky. O God, how +sweet seemed life! +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"></a> CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3> MY RESURRECTION</h3> + +<p> +My first impulse was to find the custodian of the cemetery and ask him to have +me conducted home, but various thoughts that came to me restrained me from +following that course. My return would create general alarm; why should I hurry +now that I was master of the situation? I felt my limbs; I had only an +insignificant wound on my left arm, where I had bitten myself, and a slight +feverishness lent me unhoped-for strength. I should no doubt be able to walk +unaided. +</p> + +<p> +Still I lingered; all sorts of dim visions confused my mind. I had felt beside +me in the open grave some sextons’ tools which had been left there, and I +conceived a sudden desire to repair the damage I had done, to close up the hole +through which I had crept, so as to conceal all traces of my resurrection. I do +not believe that I had any positive motive in doing so. I only deemed it +useless to proclaim my adventure aloud, feeling ashamed to find myself alive +when the whole world thought me dead. In half an hour every trace of my escape +was obliterated, and then I climbed out of the hole. +</p> + +<p> +The night was splendid, and deep silence reigned in the cemetery; the black +trees threw motionless shadows over the white tombs. When I endeavored to +ascertain my bearings I noticed that one half of the sky was ruddy, as if lit +by a huge conflagration; Paris lay in that direction, and I moved toward it, +following a long avenue amid the darkness of the branches. +</p> + +<p> +However, after I had gone some fifty yards I was compelled to stop, feeling +faint and weary. I then sat down on a stone bench and for the first time looked +at myself. I was fully attired with the exception that I had no hat. I blessed +my beloved Marguerite for the pious thought which had prompted her to dress me +in my best clothes—those which I had worn at our wedding. That +remembrance of my wife brought me to my feet again. I longed to see her without +delay. +</p> + +<p> +At the farther end of the avenue I had taken a wall arrested my progress. +However, I climbed to the top of a monument, reached the summit of the wall and +then dropped over the other side. Although roughly shaken by the fall, I +managed to walk for a few minutes along a broad deserted street skirting the +cemetery. I had no notion as to where I might be, but with the reiteration of +monomania I kept saying to myself that I was going toward Paris and that I +should find the Rue Dauphine somehow or other. Several people passed me but, +seized with sudden distrust, I would not stop them and ask my way. I have since +realized that I was then in a burning fever and already nearly delirious. +Finally, just as I reached a large thoroughfare, I became giddy and fell +heavily upon the pavement. +</p> + +<p> +Here there is a blank in my life. For three whole weeks I remained unconscious. +When I awoke at last I found myself in a strange room. A man who was nursing me +told me quietly that he had picked me up one morning on the Boulevard +Montparnasse and had brought me to his house. He was an old doctor who had +given up practicing. +</p> + +<p> +When I attempted to thank him he sharply answered that my case had seemed a +curious one and that he had wished to study it. Moreover, during the first days +of my convalescence he would not allow me to ask a single question, and later +on he never put one to me. For eight days longer I remained in bed, feeling +very weak and not even trying to remember, for memory was a weariness and a +pain. I felt half ashamed and half afraid. As soon as I could leave the house I +would go and find out whatever I wanted to know. Possibly in the delirium of +fever a name had escaped me; however, the doctor never alluded to anything I +may have said. His charity was not only generous; it was discreet. +</p> + +<p> +The summer had come at last, and one warm June morning I was permitted to take +a short walk. The sun was shining with that joyous brightness which imparts +renewed youth to the streets of old Paris. I went along slowly, questioning the +passers-by at every crossing I came to and asking the way to Rue Dauphine. When +I reached the street I had some difficulty in recognizing the lodginghouse +where we had alighted on our arrival in the capital. A childish terror made me +hesitate. If I appeared suddenly before Marguerite the shock might kill her. It +might be wiser to begin by revealing myself to our neighbor Mme Gabin; still I +shrank from taking a third party into confidence. I seemed unable to arrive at +a resolution, and yet in my innermost heart I felt a great void, like that left +by some sacrifice long since consummated. +</p> + +<p> +The building looked quite yellow in the sunshine. I had just recognized it by a +shabby eating house on the ground floor, where we had ordered our meals, having +them sent up to us. Then I raised my eyes to the last window of the third floor +on the left-hand side, and as I looked at it a young woman with tumbled hair, +wearing a loose dressing gown, appeared and leaned her elbows on the sill. A +young man followed and printed a kiss upon her neck. It was not Marguerite. +Still I felt no surprise. It seemed to me that I had dreamed all this with +other things, too, which I was to learn presently. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment I remained in the street, uncertain whether I had better go +upstairs and question the lovers, who were still laughing in the sunshine. +However, I decided to enter the little restaurant below. When I started on my +walk the old doctor had placed a five-franc piece in my hand. No doubt I was +changed beyond recognition, for my beard had grown during the brain fever, and +my face was wrinkled and haggard. As I took a seat at a small table I saw Mme +Gabin come in carrying a cup; she wished to buy a penny-worth of coffee. +Standing in front of the counter, she began to gossip with the landlady of the +establishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” asked the latter, “so the poor little woman of the +third floor has made up her mind at last, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“How could she help herself?” answered Mme Gabin. “It was the +very best thing for her to do. Monsieur Simoneau showed her so much kindness. +You see, he had finished his business in Paris to his satisfaction, for he has +inherited a pot of money. Well, he offered to take her away with him to his own +part of the country and place her with an aunt of his, who wants a housekeeper +and companion.” +</p> + +<p> +The landlady laughed archly. I buried my face in a newspaper which I picked off +the table. My lips were white and my hands shook. +</p> + +<p> +“It will end in a marriage, of course,” resumed Mme Gabin. +“The little widow mourned for her husband very properly, and the young +man was extremely well behaved. Well, they left last night—and, after +all, they were free to please themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +Just then the side door of the restaurant, communicating with the passage of +the house, opened, and Dede appeared. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother, ain’t you coming?” she cried. “I’m +waiting, you know; do be quick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Presently,” said the mother testily. “Don’t +bother.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl stood listening to the two women with the precocious shrewdness of a +child born and reared amid the streets of Paris. +</p> + +<p> +“When all is said and done,” explained Mme Gabin, “the dear +departed did not come up to Monsieur Simoneau. I didn’t fancy him +overmuch; he was a puny sort of a man, a poor, fretful fellow, and he +hadn’t a penny to bless himself with. No, candidly, he wasn’t the +kind of husband for a young and healthy wife, whereas Monsieur Simoneau is +rich, you know, and as strong as a Turk.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes!” interrupted Dede. “I saw him once when he was +washing—his door was open. His arms are so hairy!” +</p> + +<p> +“Get along with you,” screamed the old woman, shoving the girl out +of the restaurant. “You are always poking your nose where it has no +business to be.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she concluded with these words: “Look here, to my mind the other one +did quite right to take himself off. It was fine luck for the little +woman!” +</p> + +<p> +When I found myself in the street again I walked along slowly with trembling +limbs. And yet I was not suffering much; I think I smiled once at my shadow in +the sun. It was quite true. I WAS very puny. It had been a queer notion of mine +to marry Marguerite. I recalled her weariness at Guerande, her impatience, her +dull, monotonous life. The dear creature had been very good to me, but I had +never been a real lover; she had mourned for me as a sister for her brother, +not otherwise. Why should I again disturb her life? A dead man is not jealous. +</p> + +<p> +When I lifted my eyelids I saw the garden of the Luxembourg before me. I +entered it and took a seat in the sun, dreaming with a sense of infinite +restfulness. The thought of Marguerite stirred me softly. I pictured her in the +provinces, beloved, petted and very happy. She had grown handsomer, and she was +the mother of three boys and two girls. It was all right. I had behaved like an +honest man in dying, and I would not commit the cruel folly of coming to life +again. +</p> + +<p> +Since then I have traveled a good deal. I have been a little everywhere. I am +an ordinary man who has toiled and eaten like anybody else. Death no longer +frightens me, but it does not seem to care for me now that I have no motive in +living, and I sometimes fear that I have been forgotten upon earth. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1069 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> |