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_ CHAPTER IV
Since morning Zoe 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.
"Is everything ready?" asked Nana when she returned at midnight.
"Oh! I don't know," replied Zoe 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!"
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.
"There are a couple of leeches for you!" she muttered.
"If they come back threaten to go to the police."
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 Zoe 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 Zoe 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.
"The play's still far too good for that crowd of idiots," she said.
"Did you see? There were thousands there tonight. Zoe, 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!"
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.
"One would think it was sugar," murmured Georges, giggling like a
greedy little child.
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.
"Dear me, you're the first of 'em!" said Nana, who, now that she was
successful, treated her familiarly.
"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."
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.
"Ah, how nice of you, my dear madame! I was so anxious to have you
here!"
"It's I who am charmed, I assure you," said Rose with equal
amiability.
"Pray, sit down. Do you require anything?"
"Thank you, no! Ah yes, I've left my fan in my pelisse, Steiner;
just look in the right-hand pocket."
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.
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:
"Will he come?"
"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.
Seeing the young woman's sudden pallor, he became conscious of his
folly and tried to retract his words.
"He was unable to; he is taking the countess to the ball at the
Ministry of the Interior tonight."
"All right," murmured Nana, who suspected him of ill will, "you'll
pay me out for that, my pippin."
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:
"He's dying of it, you know, only he's afraid of my wife. Won't you
protect him?"
Nana did not appear to understand. She smiled and looked at Rose,
the husband and the banker and finally said to the latter:
"Monsieur Steiner, you will sit next to me."
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. Lea 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 stlll 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.
"And Bordenave?" asked Fauchery.
"Oh, you may imagine how miserable I am," cried Nana; "he won't be
able to join us."
"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!"
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:
"What, eh, what? Is that the way they're going to write my obituary
notice?"
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.
"One can't help liking ye, eh?" he continued. "Zounds, I was afraid
I should get bored, and I said to myself, 'Here goes.'"
But he interrupted himself with an oath.
"Oh, damn!"
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.
"Oh, damn! Oh, damn! Ah well, the stomach's unhurt, you'll see."
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.
"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?"
"Oh yes, we're all here, I promise you!" she answered laughingly.
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.
"Supper is on the table, madame."
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.
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.
"You sit where you like, you know," said Nana. "It's more amusing
that way."
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.
"In the middle, facing Nana!" was the cry. "Bordenave in the
middle! He'll be our president!"
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.
"God blast it all!" he grumbled. "We're squashed all the same! Ah,
my kittens, Papa recommends himself to your tender care!"
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, Lea de Horn and Maria
Blond. It was in this region that Daguenet and Georges forgathered
more warmly than ever while smilingly gazing at Nana.
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.
"Thick asparagus soup a la comtesse, clear soup a la Deslignac,"
murmured the waiters, carrying about platefuls in rear of the
guests.
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.
"This gentleman, my dear," said Vandeuvres, "is a friend of mine, a
naval officer, Monsieur de Foucarmont by name. I invited him."
Foucarmont bowed and seemed very much at ease, for he added:
"And I took leave to bring one of my friends with me."
"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--"
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 Prulliere, 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; Prulliere 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.
"Yes, yes, it's true," Mignon declared.
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, Lea 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.
The third course, consisting of a Rhine carp a la Chambord and a
saddle of venison a l'anglaise, was being served when Blanche
remarked aloud:
"Lucy, my dear, I met your Ollivier on Sunday. How he's grown!"
"Dear me, yes! He's eighteen," replied Lucy. "It doesn't make me
feel any younger. He went back to his school yesterday."
Her son Ollivier, whom she was wont to speak of with pride, was a
pupil at the Ecole 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.
"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!"
Mignon smiled complaisantly, his eyes moist with paternal
tenderness.
"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."
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!
"What age is your eldest?" asked Vandeuvres.
"Henry's nine," replied Mignon, "but such a big chap for his years!"
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.
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 Varietes. 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:
"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!"
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.
"You know," she murmured, "if she fails it won't be my fault. But
they're so strange when they're young!"
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 a la marechale, fillets
of sole with shallot sauce and escalopes of Strasbourg pate. 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
Lea 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.
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:
"Pullets a la marechale; fillets of sole with ravigote sauce."
"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."
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.
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.
"Who's going to cut up my meat for me? I can't; the table's a
league away."
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:
"There, there, my daughter," he said, "that's as it should be.
Women are made for that!"
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.
"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."
"I very much hope that all the princes will come and see it,"
declared Bordenave with his mouth full.
"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.
"Now tell me, dear boy," Caroline Hequet asked Vandeuvres, leaning
forward as she did so, "how old's the emperor of Russia?"
"Oh, he's 'present time,'" replied the count, laughing. "Nothing to
be done in that quarter, I warn you."
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 Lea favored the emperor of Austria, and all of a
sudden little Maria Blond was heard saying:
"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."
"Dear me, Bismarck!" Simonne interrupted. "I knew him once, I did.
A charming man."
"That's what I was saying yesterday," cried Vandeuvres, "but nobody
would believe me."
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.
"Thirty-two children at forty!" cried Tatan Nene, stupefied and yet
convinced. "He must be jolly well worn out for his age."
There was a burst of merriment, and it dawned on her that she was
being made game of.
"You sillies! How am I to know if you're joking?"
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.
"What's to be done?" she said to La Faloise. "One never gets what
one wants! Oh, if only one were still really loved!"
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.
"Just look there," murmured Vandeuvres to Clarisse. "I think Gaga's
doing you out of your Hector."
"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."
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.
"You're being left too," she resumed.
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.
"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.
"Eh, what?" he stammered, losing his head. "Whatever you like--I
don't care."
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.
"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."
"What ails Mignon that he should be looking at his wife in that
severe way?" asked Vandeuvres.
He leaned forward and saw Rose growing exceedingly amorous toward
Fauchery. This was the explanation of his neighbor's wrath. He
resumed laughingly:
"The devil, are you jealous?"
"Jealous!" said Lucy in a fury. "Good gracious, if Rose is wanting
Leon 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 Leon'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 Leon downstairs--
you'll see!"
She paused to say "Leoville" to the waiter standing behind her with
his two bottles and then resumed in lowered tones:
"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!"
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 a 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.
"My children," shouted Bordenave, "you know we're playing tomorrow.
Be careful! Not too much champagne!"
"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."
He was very pale, very calm and collected, and he lolled back in his
chair, drinking without cessation.
"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."
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 Lea 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 Lea'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.
"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."
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:
"It's a nuisance," he murmured, "my initials and my coronet are
worked in the corner. They may compromise me."
"I say, Monsieur Falamoise, Lamafoise, Mafaloise!" shouted
Foucarmont, who thought it exceedingly witty thus to disfigure the
young man's name ad infinitum.
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.
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:
"Pray hold your tongue, my dear fellow; it's stupid."
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.
"Make your friend hold his tongue, monsieur. I don't wish to become
angry."
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.
"What do you say to our taking coffee in here, duckie?" said
Bordenave. "We're very comfortable."
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.
"Do tell them to serve the coffee here, duckie," resumed Bordenave.
"I prefer it here because of my leg."
But Nana had sprung savagely to her feet after whispering into the
astonished ears of Steiner and the old gentleman:
"It's quite right; it'll teach me to go and invite a dirty lot like
that."
Then she pointed to the door of the dining room and added at the top
of her voice:
"If you want coffee it's there, you know."
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.
"By gum, it's less hot here," said Gaga with a slight shiver as she
entered the dining room.
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.
"Ought not Monsieur Fauchery to come and lunch with us one of these
days, Auguste?" said Rose Mignon.
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:
"Certainly, I shall be most happy. Pray come tomorrow, Monsieur
Fauchery."
Lucy Stewart heard this invitation given while she was talking with
Steiner and Blanche and, raising her voice, she remarked to the
banker:
"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?"
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!
"You are not going to fight?" said Vandeuvres, coming over to Lucy
Stewart.
"No, don't be afraid of that! Only she must mind and keep quiet, or
I let the cat out of the bag!"
Then signing imperiously to Fauchery:
"I've got your slippers at home, my little man. I'll get them taken
to your porter's lodge for you tomorrow."
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:
"Listen, my friend, you like 'em well advanced, you do! You don't
want 'em ripe; you want 'em mildewed!"
La Faloise seemed much annoyed and not a little anxious. Seeing
Clarisse making game of him, he grew suspicious of her.
"No humbug, I say," he muttered. "You've taken my handkerchief.
Well then, give it back!"
"He's dreeing us with that handkerchief of his!" she cried. "Why,
you ass, why should I have taken it from you?"
"Why should you?" he said suspiciously. "Why, that you may send it
to my people and compromise me."
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."
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.
"Well, where's Nana gone to?" asked Vandeuvres.
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.
"What IS the matter with you?" he asked in some surprise.
She neither answered nor turned her head, and he repeated his
question.
"Why, this is what's the matter with me," she cried out at length;
"I won't let them make bloody sport of me!"
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.
"Come, come, my lass, you're drunk," said Vandeuvres, growing
familiar. "You must be reasonable."
No, she would give her refusal now; she would stay where she was.
"I am drunk--it's quite likely! But I want people to respect me!"
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.
No, she never would, never. They might tear her in pieces before
she would leave her room!
"I ought to have had my suspicions," she resumed.
"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."
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!
"Him, my dear, never!" cried Vandeuvres, forgetting himself and
laughing loud.
"Why not?" she asked, looking serious and slightly sobered.
"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!"
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:
"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!"
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.
"Oh, my dear, you've no idea!" she cried, almost throwing herself
into Rose's arms. "Come and see it."
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.
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:
"Come, come, Nana, you saw us the other evening at Peters' in the
great red saloon! Pray remember, you invited us."
The other evening at Peters'? She did not remember it all. To
begin with, what evening?
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.
"However, suppose you HAVE invited them, my good girl," murmured
Labordette, who was beginning to have his doubts. "Perhaps you were
a little elevated."
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.
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.
"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!"
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 begnn taking a daily morning
ride in the Bois they all had become Amazons, as though a mania
possessed them.
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.
"La now! Why's he putting champagne into the piano?" asked Tatan
Nene in great astonishment as she caught sight of him.
"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."
"Ah," murmured Tatan Nene with conviction.
And when the rest began laughing at her she grew angry. How should
she know? They were always confusing her.
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 Lea 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 imbecillty, 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.
"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!"
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.
"Now the bargain's struck," said Nana gravely.
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, Lea
and Maria, whom Labordette complaisantly took under his charge.
"Oh, but I don't the least bit want to go to bed!" said Nana. "One
ought to find something to do."
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.
"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."
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.
"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."
In the dressing room Nana was compelled to wake up Zoe, who had
dozed off on a chair. The gas was still alight, and Zoe shivered as
she helped her mistress on with her hat and pelisse.
"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."
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.
"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!"
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.
"Oh, Blanche is with them!" cried Nana. "We are going to drink
milk, dear. Do come; you'll find Vandeuvres here when we return."
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:
"We want them to milk the cow before our eyes, you know." _
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