CHAPTER II
The next morning at ten o’clock, Nana was still sleeping. She occupied, in the Boulevard Haussmann, the second storey of a large new house, the owner of which was content to let to single ladies, in order to get his plaster dried. A rich merchant from Moscow, who had come to spend a winter in Paris, had installed her there, paying two quarters’ rent in advance. The rooms, too large for her, had never been completely furnished; and a gaudy luxury—gilded chairs and sideboards—contrasted with the rubbish of second-hand dealers—mahogany tables and zinc candelabra imitating Florentine bronze. Everything betokened the damsel abandoned too quickly by her first genuine protector, and fallen back into the clutches of unscrupulous lovers; a most difficult debut miscarried, and trammelled with a loss of credit and threats of eviction.
Nana was sleeping lying on her stomach, her bare arms entwining the pillow in which she buried her face, all pale with fatigue. The bedroom and dressing-room were the only two rooms to which a neighbouring upholsterer had really given his attention. By the aid of the faint streak of light gleaming between the curtains, one could distinguish the violet ebony furniture, the blue and grey hangings and chair coverings. In the warm, drowsy atmosphere of this bedchamber Nana suddenly awoke with a start, as though surprised to find the place beside her vacant. She looked at the other pillow placed next to her own, and which still showed the warm impression of a head in the midst of its frilling. Then, feeling with her hand, she pressed the knob of an electric bell, placed at the head of her bed.
“Has he gone, then?” she asked of the maid who appeared.
“Yes, madame. M. Paul left about ten minutes ago. As madame was tired, he would not wake her. But he requested me to tell madame that he would come to-morrow.”
Whilst speaking, Zoé, the maid, had thrown open the shutters. The bright daylight inundated the room. Zoé was very dark, and wore a little frilled cap; her face, long and pointed like a dog’s, was livid and scarred, with a flat nose, thick lips, and restless black eyes.
“To-morrow, to-morrow,” repeated Nana, still only half awake, “is to-morrow his day, then?”
“Yes, madame. M. Paul always comes on Wednesdays.”
“Ah! now I recollect!” exclaimed the young woman, sitting up in bed. “Everything is altered. I meant to tell him so this morning. He would meet the blackamoor, and then there would be no end of a row! ”
“Madame did not warn me, how was I to know,” murmured Zoé. “Next time madame alters her days, she will do well to tell me, so that I may act accordingly. So the old miser will no longer come on Tuesdays?”
It was thus between themselves, and without a smile, that they termed “old miser” and “blackamoor” the two paying gentlemen of the establishment, a tradesman of the Faubourg Saint-Denis, of a rather economical temperament, and a Wallachian, q a pretended count, whose money, always long in coming, had a most singular odour. Daguenet had secured for himself the morrows of the old miser; as the tradesman had to be at his shop by eight in the morning, the young man watched in Zoé’s kitchen until he took his departure, and then jumped into the warm place he had just vacated, where he remained until ten o’clock, when he also went off to his business. Nana and he thought this arrangement very convenient.
“Never mind!” said she, “I will write to him this afternoon. And, if by chance he doesn’t receive my letter, you must not let him in when he calls to-morrow.”
Zoé walked softly about the room. She talked of the great success of the previous evening. “Madame had shown such talent, she sang so well! Ah! madame need not bother herself now about the future!”
Nana, her elbow buried in the pillow, only answered by nodding her head. Her chemise had slipped from her shoulders, over which fell her unkempt hair.
“No doubt,” she murmured, musingly; “but how can we manage to wait? I shall have all sorts of annoyances to-day. By the way, has the landlord sent yet this morning?”
Then they both began to discuss ways and means. There were three quarters’ rent owing, and the landlord threatened to put in an execution. Besides him, there was a host of other creditors, a job-master, a linen-draper, a dressmaker, a coal merchant, and several others, who came every day and installed themselves on a bench in the anteroom; the coal merchant, especially, made himself most obnoxious, he shouted on the stairs. But Nana’s greatest worry was her little Louis, a child she had had when only sixteen, and whom she had placed out to nurse in a village near Rambouillet. The nurse demanded three hundred francs owing to her before she would give up Louis. Nana’s maternal love had been aroused ever since her last visit to the child, and she was in despair at not being able to realize what had now become her most ardent wish, which was to pay the nurse, and place the child at Batignolles with her aunt, Madame Lerat, so that she could see him whenever she wished. The maid, at this point, hinted that she ought to have confided her troubles to the old miser.
“I know!” exclaimed Nana, “and I did tell him everything; but he replied that he had some very heavy bills to meet. He won’t part with more than his thousand francs a month. As for the blackamoor, he’s quite stumped just now; I think he’s been losing at cards. And poor Mimi is really in want of money himself; a fall in stocks has cleared him out completely. He can’t even bring me any flowers now.”
She was speaking of Daguenet. On awaking in the morning she always felt in a confidential mood, and told Zoé everything. The maid, accustomed to such outpourings, listened with respectful sympathy. As madame deigned to talk to her of her affairs, she would take the liberty of giving her opinion. First of all, though, she could not help saying that she loved madame very much; it was for that reason that she had left Madame Blanche, and God knew that Madame Blanche was doing all she could to get her to return to her! She was well known, and would never have any difficulty in obtaining a situation; but she would remain with madame, even though things were not very brilliant, because she believed madame had a great future before her. And she ended by giving her advice. When one was young, one did very foolish things. Now it was necessary to be very careful, for men only thought of amusing themselves. And there would be no end of them! If madame liked she would only have a word to say to quiet her creditors and procure the money she was in want of.
“All that does not give me three hundred francs,” Nana kept repeating, as she passed her fingers through her hair. “I want three hundred francs to-day, at once. How stupid it is not knowing someone who would give three hundred francs.”
And she tried to think of some means of obtaining the money. She was expecting Madame Lerat that very morning, and she would have liked so much to have sent her off at once to Rambouillet. Her inability to gratify her whim quite spoilt her triumph of the preceding night. To think that among all those men who had greeted her with such applause there was not one who would bring her fifteen louis!r Besides, she could not accept money in that way. Oh, how miserable she was! And then she thought of her baby: his blue eyes were like an angel’s; he could just lisp “Mamma” in such a funny tone of voice that it almost made her die with laughing!
Just then the electric bell of the outer door sounded, with its rapid and trembling vibration. After going to see who was there, Zoé returned, and whispered confidentially:
“It is a woman.”
She had already seen this woman at least twenty times, only she pretended never to recognise her, and to ignore the nature of her dealings with ladies down in their luck.
“She told me her name—Madame Tricon.”
“Old Tricon! exclaimed Nana. ”Why, I forgot all about her! I will see her.”
Zoé ushered in a tall old lady, wearing long curls, and looking like a countess frequently visiting her solicitor. Then she retired, disappeared without noise, with the snake-like movement with which she left a room when a gentleman called. She might just as well, however, have remained where she was. Old Madame Tricon did not even sit down. She only uttered a few short words.
“I have somebody for you to-day. Are you willing?”
“Yes. How much?”
“Twenty louis.”
“And at what time?”
“At three o’clock. Then, that’s settled?”
“Yes, that’s settled.”
Madame Tricon immediately began to talk of the weather; it was very dry, and good for walking. She had still to call on four or five persons; and off she went, after consulting a little note-book. Nana, left alone, felt a weight lifted off her mind. A slight shiver passed across her back; she slowly drew the warm clothes over her, with the indolence of a chilly cat. Little by little her eyes closed; she smiled at the idea of prettily dressing little Louis on the morrow; then, in the sleep which at length overtook her, her feverish dream of the night, a prolonged thunder of applause, returned like a thorough-bass, and lulled her weariness. At twelve o’clock, when Zoé showed Madame Lerat into the room, Nana was still sleeping. But the noise awoke her, and she at once said:
“Ah! it’s you. You will go to Rambouillet to-day?”
“I came for that,” replied the aunt. “There is a train at twenty past twelve. I have time to catch it.”
“No, I shall only have the money this afternoon,” said the young woman, stretching herself, her breasts rising as she did so. “You will have some lunch, and then we will see.”
Zoé whispered, as she brought her a dressing-gown, “Madame, the hairdresser is there.”
But Nana would not retire into her dressing-room. She called out:
“Come in, Francis.”
A gentleman, very stylishly dressed, pushed open the door. He bowed. Just at that moment Nana was getting out of bed, her legs quite bare. Without hurrying herself, she held out her arms, so that Zoé could pass the sleeves of the dressing-gown on to them; and Francis, quite at his ease, waited in a dignified manner, and without looking away. Then, when she had seated herself, and he had passed the comb through her hair, he spoke:
“Madame has, perhaps, not yet read the papers? There is a very good article in the ‘Figaro.’ ”
As he had the paper with him, Madame Lerat put on her spectacles, and read the article out loud, standing in front of the window. She drew up to her full trooper-like stature, her nostrils contracted each time she came to an adjective exceptionally gallant. It was a notice of Fauchery’s, written directly after leaving the theatre—two very warm columns, full of witty but unkind remarks, so far as regarded the actress, and of a brutish admiration for the woman.
“Excellent! excellent!” kept repeating Francis.
Nana didn’t care a button for the chaff about her voice! He was a nice fellow, that Fauchery; all the same, she’d pay him out for his pleasant little ways! After reading the article a second time, Madame Lerat abruptly declared that all the men had the devil in the calves of their legs; and she refused to explain further, satisfied with having made this racy allusion, which she alone was able to understand. Meanwhile Francis had finished fastening up Nana’s hair. He bowed and said,
“I shall have my eye on the evening papers. The same time as usual, I suppose—at half-past five?”
“Bring me a pot of pomatums and a pound of burnt almonds from Boissier’s!” Nana called after him across the drawing-room, just as he was shutting the door.
Then the two women, left alone, remembered that they had not kissed each other, so they cordially embraced one another on the cheek. The article had rather excited them. Nana, until then only half awake, again felt all the fever of her triumph. Ah! Rose Mignon must have spent a very pleasant morning! As her aunt had not been to the theatre, because, as she said, all emotion upset her stomach, she began to relate the events of the evening, the recital intoxicating her as though Paris itself had crumbled beneath the applause. Then, suddenly interrupting herself, she asked, with a laugh, if anyone would ever have expected as much in the days when she dragged her blackguard little person about the Rue de la Goutte d’Or. Madame Lerat shook her head. No, no; no one could ever have foreseen it. She spoke in her turn in a grave tone of voice, and calling her her daughter. For wasn’t she her second mother, now that the real one had gone to join the papa and the grandma. Nana, greatly affected, was on the point of shedding tears. But Madame Lerat said that by-gones were by-gones, and very filthy by-gones too! things that should not be touched upon every day in the week. For a long while she had given up seeing her niece, for the other members of the family accused her of going to the bad in her company. As if, great heavens! such a thing were possible! She did not want to know her niece’s secrets; she was sure that the latter had always led a respectable life. And now she was satisfied with finding her in a good position, and seeing that she entertained a motherly feeling for her son. In this world, after all, there was nothing to beat honesty and work.
“Who is the father of your baby?” she asked, suddenly interrupting her sermon, her eyes lighted up with intense curiosity.
Nana, surprised, hesitated for a second. “A gentleman,” she replied.
“Ah!” resumed the aunt, “I was told it was a mason who used to beat you. Well, you can tell me all about it some other day; you know that I can be trusted! Be easy, I will take as great care of him as though he was the son of a prince.”
She had given up her artificial flower-making business and retired on her savings—six hundred francs a year—hoarded up sou by sou. Nana promised to take some nice rooms for her, besides which she would allow her one hundred francs a month. When she heard this the aunt quite forgot herself in her delight, and impressed upon her niece that she should squeeze them whilst she had the chance. She was alluding to the men. Then they kissed each other again. But Nana, in the midst of her joy, and just as she had once more begun to talk of little Louis, seemed to get sad at some sudden recollection.
“What a nuisance it is: I have to go out at three o’lock!” she murmured. “It’s an awful bore!”
At that moment Zoé came to say that the lunch was ready. They went into the dining-room, where they found an elderly lady already seated at the table. She had not taken her bonnet off, and was dressed in a dark gown of no precise colour, but something between puce and goose droppings. Nana did not seem surprised at seeing her there. She merely asked her why she had not gone into the bedroom.
“I heard voices,” answered the old lady. “I thought you were engaged.”
Madame Maloir, who had a respectable appearance and distinguished ways, acted as Nana’s old lady friend. She entertained her and accompanied her about. At first, Madame Lerat’s presence seemed to make her uneasy; but when she learnt that the stranger was only the aunt, she looked at her in quite a pleasant sort of a way, and smiled faintly. However, Nana, who said her stomach had gone right down into her heels, started on some radishes, which she devoured without any bread. Madame Lerat, becoming very ceremonious, declined the radishes, saying they produced wind. Then, when Zoé brought in some cutlets, Nana played with the meat, and ended by merely sucking the bone. Now and again she cast a glance in the direction of her old friend’s bonnet.
“Is that the new bonnet I gave you?” she eventually asked.
“Yes, I have altered it to suit me,” murmured Madame Maloir, with her mouth full.
The bonnet looked frightful with the big feather she had stuck in it. Madame Maloir had a mania for re-making up all her bonnets: she alone knew what suited her, and in a minute she would utterly spoil the most elegant article. Nana, who had bought her the bonnet so as not to feel ashamed every time she went out with her, began to get angry.
“Well! you might at least take it off!” she cried.
“No, thank you,” the old lady replied most politely, “It does not trouble me. I can eat very well with it on.”
After the cutlets came some cauliflower and the remains of a cold chicken. But Nana turned up her nose at each dish put upon the table, and left her food untouched on her plate. After smelling everything and hesitating what to take, she finished her lunch with some jam. The dessert lasted some time, and Zoé did not remove the cloth before serving the coffee; the ladies merely pushed away their plates. They talked of the great success achieved at the theatre the previous evening. Nana was making cigarettes, which she smoked as she leant back in her chair; and Zoé, having remained in the room, standing up against the sideboard swinging her arms about, at length began relating the story of her life. She said that she was the daughter of a midwife, who had got into trouble. First of all she obtained a situation at a dentist‘s, then with an agent for an insurance company, but she did not like it; and then she mentioned, with a touch of pride in her voice, the names of the different ladies with whom she had lived as lady’s-maid. Zoé spoke of these ladies as though they owed her everything. For certain, more than one of them would have got into a nice mess had it not been for her. For instance, one day that Madame Blanche was with M. Octave, the old gentleman unexpectedly arrived. What did Zoé do? She pretended to fall down as she passed through the drawing-room; the old gentleman hastened to help her, and then rushed off to the kitchen to get her a glass of water, while M. Octave got clear away.
“Ah! that was capital!” exclaimed Nana, who had listened with a tender interest and a sort of obsequious admiration.
“As for me, I have met with many misfortunes,” commenced Madame Lerat. And drawing her chair close to Madame Maloir, she related to her various incidents of her private life. They were both sucking lumps of sugar which they had previously dipped in their coffee. But Madame Maloir listened to the secrets of others without ever letting out a word about herself. It was said that she lived on a mysterious pension, in a room into which she never allowed any one to enter.
All of a sudden Nana flew into a passion. “Aunt!” she cried, “don’t play with the knives. You know that it always upsets me.”
Without thinking of what she was doing, Madame Lerat had crossed two of the knives on the table. All the same the young woman pretended she was not superstitious. For instance, spilling salt never affected her, neither did anything happening on a Friday; but crossed knives was more than she could stand, they had never misled her. For certain, something disagreeable would happen to her. She yawned, and in a tone of vexation, said, “Already two o’lock. I shall have to go out. What a nuisance!” The two old women exchanged a glance. Then all three shook their heads without speaking. True, it was not always amusing to have to go out. Nana was again leaning back in her chair, and smoking another cigarette, whilst the others discreetly kept their lips tight, and put on their most philosophical looks.
“While you are gone, we will have a game at bézique,”t said Madame Maloir, after a short silence. “Does madame know the game?”
Of course Madame Lerat did, and played it better than any one. It was not necessary to disturb Zoé, who had left the room; a corner of the table was all they wanted, so they turned the cloth up over the dirty plates. But, just as Madame Maloir had got the cards out of a drawer of the sideboard, Nana said she would be very good if, before commencing the game, she would write a letter for her. It bothered her to write, and besides, she was not very sure of her spelling, whilst her old friend wrote letters so well. She ran and fetched from her bedroom some beautiful note-paper. A common three souu ink-bottle was lying about, with a rusty old pen. The letter was for Daguenet. Madame Maloir commenced in her beautiful round hand, “My darling little man,” and then she proceeded to tell him not to come on the morrow, because “it could not be,” but “ar or near, every moment in the day, she was thinking of him.”
“And I will end with a thousand kisses,” murmured Madame Maloir.
Madame Lerat had approved each phrase with a nod of her head. Her eyes sparkled: she had a weakness for being mixed up in love affairs. So she could not resist adding something of her own.
“A thousand kisses on your beautiful eyes,” she cooed, with a tender look.
“Yes, that’s it: ‘A thousand kisses on your beautiful eyes!’ ” repeated Nana, whilst a sanctimonious expression overspread the features of the two old women.
They rang for Zoé, for her to give the letter to a commissionnaire. v She was just then talking with a messenger from the theatre who had brought madame a communication from the stage-manager, which should have been sent to her in the morning. Nana had the man in, and asked him to leave the letter at Daguenet’s on his way back. Then she began to question him. Oh! M. Bordenave was very pleased; all the seats were booked for a week at least; madame had no idea of the number of persons who had inquired for her address since the morning. When the messenger had left, Nana said that she would not be away more than half an hour at the most. If any visitors called, Zoé was to ask them to wait. As she spoke, the electric bell of the outer door sounded. It was one of the creditors, the job-master; he had taken a seat on the bench of the anteroom. Oh! he might wait and twirl his thumbs until night-time; they were not going to disturb themselves for him.
“I must pull myself together,” said Nana lazily, again stretching herself and yawning. “I ought to be there by now.”
All the same she did not move. She watched the game, in which her aunt had just scored a hundred aces. Her chin in her hand, she was becoming interested; but she suddenly started on hearing three o’lock strike.
“Damn it!” she roughly exclaimed.
Then Madame Maloir, who was counting the tens, said to her in a gentle, encouraging voice, “My child, you would do better to get your business over at once.”
“Yes, be quick over it,” added Madame Lerat, as she shuffled the cards. “I shall be able to leave by the half-past four train, if you are here with the money by four o’lock.”
“Oh! it won’t take long,” she muttered in reply.
In ten minutes Zoé had helped her to put on a dress and bonnet. She didn’t care if she looked untidy. Just as she was about to go off, there was another ring at the bell. This time it was the coal merchant. Well! he could keep the job-master company; they might entertain each other. To avoid a row, however, she passed through the kitchen, and went out by the servants’ staircase. She often went that way; all she had to do was to keep her skirts from touching the ground.
“When one is a good mother, the rest is of no consequence,” sententiously observed Madame Maloir, now left alone with Madame Lerat.
“I mark eighty kings,” replied the latter, who had a great weakness for cards. And they both became more and more wrapped up in the game.
The table had not been cleared. A mixed odour pervaded the room—the fumes of the lunch and the smoke of the cigarettes. The two ladies returned to their lumps of sugar soaked in coffee. For twenty minutes they played as they sipped, when, the bell having rung a third time, Zoé bounced into the room, and jostled them in a most familiar manner.
“I say!” she exclaimed, “there’s another ring. You won’t be able to remain in here. If many more people are coming, I shall want every room in the place. Now, then, up you get! up you get!”
Madame Maloir wanted to finish the game; but Zoé having made a feint of gathering up the cards, she decided to remove them carefully, without disturbing anything, whilst Madame Lerat secured the brandy bottle, some glasses, and the sugar, and they both hastened into the kitchen, where they placed their things on an end of the table between some dirty cloths that were drying and a large bowl full of greasy water.
“I’m three hundred and forty. It’s your play.”
“I lead hearts.”
When Zoé returned, she found them once more deep in the game. After a short silence, and as Madame Lerat gathered up the cards and shuffled them, Madame Maloir asked:
“Who was it?”
“Oh! no one,” answered the maid, carelessly, “only a youngster. I ought to have sent him about his business; but he is so pretty, without a hair on his face, and with blue eyes and such a girlish figure, that I told him he could wait. He has an enormous bouquet in his hand, and he won’t leave go of it. He deserves to be whipped, a brat who ought still to be at college!”
Madame Lerat got up to fetch hot water to concoct some grog; the sugar and coffee had made her thirsty. Zoé murmured that, all the same, she could manage some as well. Her mouth had a bitter taste like gall.
“Well, and where have you put him?” resumed Madame Maloir.
“Why, in the little spare room that isn’t furnished. It just holds one of madame’s trunks and a table. That’s where I put such youngsters.”
And she was sweetening her grog with several lumps of sugar, when another ring at the bell made her jump. Hang it all! wasn’t she to be allowed to have a drink in peace, now? If what they had already had was only the beginning of it, it promised to be lively. However, she hastened to see who was there. Then, when she returned, seeing Madame Maloir’s questioning look, “Only a bouquet,” she observed.
They all three drank, after nodding to each other. The bell rang again twice, as Zoé, at last, cleared the table, carrying the dirty plates to the sink one by one. But all this ringing was for nothing of any consequence. She kept the occupants of the kitchen well informed. Twice she came and repeated her disdainful phrase—“Only a bouquet.”
However, the ladies had a good laugh between two of the deals, as she told them of the looks of the creditors in the anteroom when the flowers were brought. Madame would find her bouquets on her dressing-table. What a pity it was that they cost so much, and that one couldn’t even raise ten sous on them! Well, there was a good deal of money wasted in the world.
“For myself,” said Madame Maloir, “I should be satisfied if I had every day what the men spend on the flowers they give the women in Paris.”
“I daresay, you are not at all hard to please,” murmured Madame Lerat. “If I had only the money spent on the wire alone. My dear, sixty queens.”
It was ten minutes to four. Zoé was surprised—could not understand at all how madame could remain out so long. Generally, when madame found herself obliged to go out in the afternoon, she got it over in less than no time. But Madame Maloir observed that one was not always able to do as one would wish. One certainly met with many obstacles in life, declared Madame Lerat. The best thing to do was to wait. If her niece was late it was because she had been detained, was it not? Besides, they had nothing to complain of. It was very comfortable in the kitchen. And, as she had no more hearts in her hand, Madame Lerat played diamonds. The electric bell was again set in motion. When Zoé reappeared her face was quite radiant.
“Fatty Steiner! girls,” said she in a whisper, as soon as she got her head in at the door. “I put him in the parlour.”
Then Madame Maloir talked of the banker to Madame Lerat, who did not know any of that class of gentlemen. Was he going to chuck up Rose Mignon? Zoé wagged her head; she knew many things. But she was again obliged to go and answer the bell.
“Well! this beats everything!” she murmured on returning. “It’s the blackamoor! It was no use, though I told him again and again that madame was out; he has gone and made himself comfortable in the bedroom. We did not expect him till this evening.”
At a quarter past four Nana was still absent. What could she be doing? It was most absurd of her. Then two more bouquets were brought. Zoé, not knowing what to do with herself, looked to see if there was any more coffee. Yes, the ladies would willingly finish the coffee, it would wake them up again. They were falling asleep, settled in their chairs, and continuously drawing cards from the pack with the same movement of their arms. The half past struck. Something, surely, must have happened to madame, they whispered to each other.
All of a sudden, Madame Maloir, forgetting herself, exclaimed in a loud voice—“Double bezique! Five hundred!”
“Hold your row! will you?” cried Zoé, angrily. “What will all those gentlemen think?”
And in the silence which reigned, with the exception of a slight murmur, caused by the disputes of the two old women, was heard the sound of hastily approaching footsteps on the servants’ staircase. It was Nana at last. Before she opened the door one could hear her panting. She entered looking very red, and very abrupt in manner. Her skirt, the strings of which had probably broken, had dragged over the stairs, and the flounces had soaked in a regular pool—some filth that had flowed from the first floor, where the cook was a perfect slut.
“Here you are at last! well, it’s fortunate!” said Madame Lerat, with a nasty look about her mouth, and still put out by Madame Maloir’s double bezique. “You can flatter yourself that you know how to keep people waiting!”
“Madame is really very foolish!” added Zoé.
Nana, already out of temper, became exasperated by these reproaches. Was that the way to receive her after all the unpleasantness she had gone through?
“Mind your own business, can’t you?” she cried.
“Hush! madame, there are some people here,” said the maid.
So, lowering her voice, the young woman faltered, all out of breath, “Do you think I’ve been amusing myself? I thought I should never have been able to get away. I should have liked to have seen you in my place. I was boiling. I was on the point of using my fists. And then, not a cab to be got to come back in. Fortunately it’s close by. All the same, I ran as fast as I could.”
“Have you the money?” asked the aunt.
“What a question!” replied Nana.
She had seated herself in a chair close to the grate, her legs almost too tired to bear her, and, before she had even recovered her breath, she felt inside the body of her dress and drew forth an envelope, in which were four bank-notes of one hundred francs each. One could see the notes by a large tear she had made in the envelope with her finger so as to make sure of what it contained. The three women around her looked fixedly at the envelope of common paper, all crumpled and dirtied, in her little gloved hands. It was too late; Madame Lerat should not go to Rambouillet till the next day. Nana began to give her various instructions.
“Madame, there are some people waiting,” repeated the maid.
But she again flew into a passion. The people could wait. She would attend to them by-and-by, when she had settled what she was about. Then, as her aunt put out her hand to take the money, “Oh! no, not all,” said she. “Three hundred francs for the nurse, fifty francs for your journey and expenses, that makes three hundred and fifty. I shall keep fifty francs.”
The great difficulty was to get change. There were not ten francs in the place. They did not ask Madame Maloir, who was listening with an uninterested look, for she never had with her more than the six sous necessary for an omnibus. At length Zoé left them, saying that she would go and look in her trunk, and she shortly returned with a hundred francs, all in five franc pieces. They counted them on the corner of the table. Madame Lerat went off at once, promising to fetch little Louis on the morrow.
“You say there are some people waiting?” resumed Nana, still sitting down, resting.
“Yes, madame, three persons.”
And Zoé named the banker first. Nana pouted her lip. Did that Steiner think she was going to stand any of his nonsense, just because he had had a bouquet thrown to her on the previous evening?
“Besides,” she declared, “I’ve had enough for to-day. I shall not receive any one. Go and say that you no longer expect me.”
“Madame will reflect—madame will receive M. Steiner,” murmured Zoé, without stirring, looking very grave and annoyed to find her mistress on the point of behaving very foolishly. Then she spoke of the Wallachian, who must be beginning to find time hang very heavily on his hands all alone in the bedroom. But Nana got into a rage and became more obstinate. No, she would see no one! Why was she ever bothered with a fellow who would stick to her to that extent?
“Kick ’em all out! I’m going to have a game at bezique with Madame Maloir. I like that much better.”
The ringing of the bell interrupted her. This was too much! How many more of them would come to bother her? She forbade Zoé to open the door. The latter, without listening to what she said, left the kitchen. When she returned, she stated in a peremptory tone of voice, as she handed two cards to her mistress: “I told the gentlemen that madame would see them. They are in the drawing-room.”
Nana jumped up from her seat in a regular fury, but the names of the Marquis de Chouard and Count Muffat de Beuville, on the cards, calmed her. She remained an instant wrapped in thought.
“Who are they?” she asked at length. “Do you know them?”
“I know the old one,” replied Zoé, discreetly; and as her mistress continued to question her with her eyes, she quietly added, “I have seen him at a certain place.”
This statement seemed to determine the young woman. She reluctantly left the kitchen, that warm refuge where one could gossip and take one’s ease, with the smell of the coffee warming on the embers of the charcoal. She left behind her Madame Maloir, who was now cutting the cards and telling her own fortune. She had continued to keep her bonnet on, only, to be more at her ease, she had untied the strings and thrown the ends back over her shoulders. In the dressing-room, where Zoé rapidly helped her to change her things, Nana avenged herself for the worries she had to put up with by uttering in a low voice the most abominable oaths against men in general. These foul expressions grieved the maid, for she saw with regret that her mistress was a long time in getting free of the evil effects of her early surroundings. She even ventured to beg of her to be calm.
“Oh, pooh!” replied Nana, coarsely; “they are a set of pigs, and they like it.”
Nevertheless, she put on what she styled her princess look, and was moving towards the drawing-room, when Zoé stopped her, and, of her own accord, hastened to usher into the dressing-room the Marquis de Chouard and Count Muffat. It would be much better that way.
“Gentlemen,” said the young woman with studied politeness, “I regret that you have had to wait.”
The two men bowed and sat down. An embroidered blind subdued the light admitted into the room, which was the most elegantly furnished one of the set: it was hung with light drapery, and contained a handsome marble dressing-table, a large cheval-glass, with an inlaid frame, a reclining-chair, and several easy-chairs covered in blue satin. On the dressing-table were placed the bouquets of roses, lilac and hyacinths, quite a pyramid of flowers, emitting a strong and penetrating perfume; whilst in the moist atmosphere, with the insipid smell rising from the dirty water, an odour more pronounced could now and again be discerned, emanating from a few sprigs of dry patchouli broken up into small pieces at the bottom of a cup. And cuddling herself up, drawing round her the unfastened dressing-gown she had slipped on, Nana appeared as though she had been surprised at her toilet, her skin scarcely dried, looking smiling though startled in the midst of her laces.
“Madame,” gravely said Count Muffat, “excuse our taking you thus by storm. We have called respecting a collection. This gentleman and myself are members of the poor relief committee for this district.”
The Marquis de Chouard gallantly hastened to add, “When we heard that a great actress lived in this house, we at once determined to call and personally plead the cause of our poor. Talent is ever allied to a generous heart.”
Nana made a great show of modesty. She acknowledged their remarks by slightly nodding her head, reflecting furiously, however, all the time. It must have been the old one who had brought the other; his eyes looked so wicked. Yet, the other one too was to be mistrusted, his temples seemed curiously swollen; he might have managed to come alone. No doubt, they had heard about her from the concierge, and each had called on his own account.
“Certainly, gentlemen, you were quite right to come,” said she, most pleasantly. But the sound of the bell made her start. What! another visitor, and that Zoé who would persist in letting them in! “I am only too happy to be able to give,” she continued. In reality, she felt extremely flattered.
“Ah! madame,” resumed the marquis, “if you but knew the extent of the misery! Our district contains more than three thousand poor, and yet it is one of the richest. You can have no idea of the amount of distress prevailing—children without food, women lying ill, deprived of all necessities, dying of cold.”
“Poor people!” cried Nana deeply affected.
Her pity was so great that tears filled her beautiful eyes. In an impulsive moment she leant forward, forgetting any longer to study her movements, and her open dressing-gown displayed all her neck, whilst her bended knees indicated, beneath the flimsy material, the roundness of her form. A slight tinge of colour illumined the ghastly pallor of the marquis’s cheeks, and Count Muffat, who was on the point of speaking, lowered his eyes. It was decidedly too warm in that small room, it was heavy and close like a hot-house. The roses were drooping, and the smell of the patchouli in the cup was intoxicating.
“One would like to be very rich on such occasions,” added Nana. “However one does what one can. Believe me, gentlemen, had I only known—”
She was on the point of saying something foolish under the influence of her emotion; but she recovered herself, and left the phrase unfinished. For a moment she remained perplexed, not recollecting where she had put the fifty francs when she took her dress off; but at length she recollected, they must be on a corner of her dressing-table under a pomatum-pot turned upside down. As she rose from her seat the bell sounded again, violently this time. Good! another one! Would it never cease? The count and the marquis had also risen, and the ears of the latter seemed to turn in the direction of the door; no doubt he knew what the frequent rings at the bell meant. Muffat glanced at him; then each looked on the ground; no doubt they were in each other’s way. But they soon regained their composure, the one looking proud and strong, his head well covered with his dark brown hair, the other straightening his bony shoulders, over which fell his meagre crown of rare white hairs.
“Really, gentlemen,” said Nana, laughing, as she brought the ten big silver coins, “I’m afraid I shall burden you. Remember it is for the poor.”
And an adorable little dimple appeared in her chin. She had assumed her “hail fellow well met” air, and stood in an easy posture, holding out her hand full of silver—offering it to the two men, as though saying, “Come, who’ll take?” The count was the more active, he took the money; but one coin remained in the young woman’s hand, and, to remove it, his fingers were obliged to come in contact with her skin—a skin so warm and soft that touching it sent a thrill through his frame. Nana, greatly amused, continued laughing.
“There, gentlemen,” she resumed. “Next time I hope to give more.”
Having no pretext for remaining longer, they bowed and moved towards the door. But, as they were about to leave the room, the bell sounded again. The marquis could not repress a faint smile, whilst a shadow passed over the count’s grave face. Nana detained them a few seconds, to allow Zoé time to find some out-of-the-way corner for the new comer. She did not like people to meet one another when calling on her. This time, the place must be quite full. She was agreeably surprised, however, to find the drawing-room empty. Had Zoé, then, put them into the cupboards?
“Good-day, gentlemen,” she said, as she stood in the open doorway.
She enveloped them in her smile and her clear glance. Count Muffat bowed low, disconcerted in spite of his great experience of the world, longing for a breath of fresh air, dizzy from his contact with that room, and carrying away with him an odour of woman and flowers which nearly stifled him. And, behind him, the Marquis de Chouard, certain of not being observed, dared to wink at Nana, his face, for the moment, all distorted, and his tongue between his lips. When the young woman re-entered the dressing-room, where Zoé awaited her with some letters and visiting-cards, she laughed louder than ever, and exclaimed:
“Well, there go a couple of sharks! They wheedled my fifty francs out of me!”
But she was not annoyed; it amused her to think that men should ask her for money. All the same, they were a couple of pigs; she hadn’t a sou left. The sight of the cards and the letters brought back her bad temper. The letters might be tolerated; they came from gentlemen who, after applauding her at the theatre, now hastened to make their declarations. As for the visitors, they might go to the devil! Zoé had put some everywhere; and she remarked that the suite of rooms was very convenient, for each one opened on to the passage. It was not the same at Madame Blanche’s, where you always had to pass through the drawing-room; and Madame Blanche had had a great deal of unpleasantness on that account.
“You must send them all to the right about,” resumed Nana, following her original idea. “Begin with the blackamoor.”
“I sent him off a long time ago, madame,” said Zoé with a smile. “He merely wished to tell madame that he couldn’t come to-night.”
What great joy! Nana clapped her hands. He wasn’t coming—what luck! Then she would be free! She sighed with relief, as though she had been pardoned when about to endure the most abominable of punishments. Her first thought was for Daguenet—that poor duck whom she had just put off till the Thursday! Quick, Madame Maloir must write another letter! But Zoé said that, as usual, Madame Maloir had gone off without letting any one know. Then Nana, after speaking of sending some one, began to hesitate. She was very tired. A whole night for sleep—it would be so nice! The idea of such a treat at length proved irresistible. She might, just for once, stand herself that.
“I shall go to bed at once on returning from the theatre,” she murmured, in a greedy sort of way, “and you must let me sleep till twelve o‘clock.” Then, raising her voice, she added, “Now, then, look alive! shove ’em all on to the staircase!”
Zoé didn’t stir. She would never permit herself openly to give advice to madame, only she arranged matters in such a way as to enable madame to profit by her vast experience, when she saw that madame was about to do something foolish.
“M. Steiner also?” she briefly asked.
“Certainly,” replied Nana. “He before the others.”
The maid still waited, to give madame time to reflect. Wouldn’t madame be proud to do her rival, Rose Mignon, out of such a rich gentleman—one so well known in all the theatres?
“Look sharp, my dear,” resumed Nana, who understood perfectly, “and tell him that he plagues me.” But she suddenly altered her mind. On the morrow she might want him; so, winking her eye, she laughingly added, “After all, if I want to hook him, the best thing is chuck him out.”
Zoé seemed very much struck with the remark. She gazed on her mistress with a look of admiration, then went and sent Steiner about his business without hesitation. Nana waited a few minutes to give her time to sweep the place, as she termed it. One had never before heard of such an assault! She looked into the drawing-room; it was empty—the dining-room also; but as she continued her inspection, quite reassured, and certain she would not come across any one, she suddenly found herself in the company of a very little fellow, on opening the door of a spare room. He was seated on the top of a trunk, very quiet and looking very good, with an enormous bouquet on his knees.
“Oh, heavens!” she exclaimed. “There is still one in here!”
On seeing her the little fellow jumped to the floor, his face as red as a poppy, and he did not seem to know what to do with his bouquet, which he passed from one hand to the other, almost strangled by emotion. His youth, his embarrassment, the comical figure he cut with his flowers, touched Nana, who burst out laughing. What! children as well? Now men came to her when they had scarcely left off their swaddling clothes. She became quite easy, familiar, maternal, even, in her way; and, slapping her thighs, asked him, for a bit of fun,
“Have you then come to be whipped, baby?”
“Yes,” replied the youngster, in low and entreating accents.
This reply amused her all the more. He was seventeen years old, his name was George Hugon. He was at the Variety Theatre on the previous evening, and he had come to see her.
“Are those flowers for me?”
“Yes.”
“Give them to me, then, you little booby!”
But, as she took the bouquet, he seized her hands, with the gluttony of his happy age. She had to strike him to make him leave go. There was a young monkey who went it hot! She quite blushed and smiled as she scolded him. Then she sent him away, giving him permission to come again. He staggered; he could scarcely find the door. Nana returned to her dressing-room, where Francis appeared almost immediately to do her hair for the evening. She never dressed before then. Seated before the looking-glass, lowering her head beneath the skilful fingers of the hair-dresser, she remained silent and pensive, when Zoé entered, saying,
“Madame, there is one who will not go away.”
“Very well, then, let him stop,” she calmly replied.
“Besides, as fast as some go others come.”
“Never mind, tell them to wait. When they get very hungry they will go off!”
She had again altered her mind. It now delighted her to keep the men waiting. A sudden idea perfected her amusement. She escaped from Francis’s hands, and ran and bolted the door. Now they could come and fill the other rooms as much as they liked, they wouldn’t be able to pierce the walls, she supposed! Zoé could go in and out by the little door that led into the kitchen. However, the electric bell kept on as lively as ever. Every five minutes the sound came again, sharp and clear, with the regularity of a well-oiled machine; and Nana counted the tinklings by way of distraction. But a sudden recollection burst upon her.
“And my burnt almonds, what about them?” she cried.
Francis also was forgetting the burnt almonds. He withdrew a packet from the pocket of his frockcoat, with the discreet manner of a man of the world offering a present to a lady friend. However, each time his account was settled he did not forget to include the burnt almonds in the bill. Nana put the bag between her knees and commenced to munch, moving her head now and again, according to the gentle pushes of the hair-dresser.
“The deuce!” she murmured, after a short silence, “there’s a regular band of them.” Three times successively had the bell sounded. It scarcely ceased ringing. Some of the rings were very modest ones, they seemed to falter with the nervousness of a first avowal; others were very bold, vibrating beneath the touch of some rough hand; whilst others, still, were very hurried, and passed away in a moment. They produced an incessant peal, as Zoé said, sufficient to disturb the whole neighbourhood, all this crowd of men pushing in turn the ivory knob of the electric bell. It was too bad of that joker Bordenave. He had really given the address to too many persons—nearly all the previous night’s audience seemed to be calling.
“By the way, Francis,” said Nana, “have you five louis?”
He took a step backwards, scrutinized the head-dress, then quietly replied, “Five louis? well, that depends.”
“Oh! you know,” she returned, “if you want securities—”
And, without finishing the sentence, she nodded in the direction of the adjoining rooms. Francis lent the five louis. Zoé, in her moments of respite, came and prepared everything for her mistress’s toilet. Soon she had to come and dress her, whilst the hair-dresser waited, wishing to give a few finishing touches to his work. But the sound of the bell constantly called away the maid, who left her mistress with her stays half unlaced, or with only one stocking on. She got quite bewildered in spite of her experience. After having put men everywhere, even in the smallest corners, she was at length obliged to put three or four together, a proceeding which was altogether against her principles. Well, so much the worse if they ate each other, it would give more room! And Nana, safely bolted in, laughed at them, saying that she could hear them puffing and blowing. They must have a very queer look, all with their tongues hanging out, like a lot of puppies sitting on their haunches in a ring. It was the success of the previous evening continuing; this pack of men had followed on her trail.
“I hope they won’t break anything,” she murmured. She was commencing to get uneasy, under the influence of the hot breaths which percolated through the cracks. But Zoé ushered in Labordette, and the young woman uttered a cry of relief. He had called to tell her of an account he had settled for her at the office of the justice of the peace. She didn’t listen to him, but kept repeating, “I shall take you with me. We will dine together. Then you shall see me to the Variety Theatre. I don’t go on till half-past nine.”
That dear Labordette, he had just dropped in at the right time. He never asked for anything! He was merely the ladies’ friend, and interested himself in their little affairs. For instance, on coming in, he had sent all the creditors to the right about. Those worthy people, however, had not wished to be paid; on the contrary, if they persisted in waiting, it was merely to compliment madame, and personally to offer her their services after her great success.
“Let’s be off,” said Nana, who was now dressed.
Just then Zoé hastened into the room crying, “I cannot answer the bell again, madame. There’s a regular crowd coming up the stairs.”
A crowd on the stairs! Even Francis laughed, in spite of the coolness he affected, as he gathered up his combs. Nana, seizing hold of Labordette’s arm, dragged him into the kitchen; and, free at length of the men, she hurried away thoroughly happy, knowing that she could be alone with him, no matter where, without any fear of his making a fool of himself.
“You must bring me home again,” she said, as they went down the back stairs. “Then I shall be safe. Only fancy, I intend to sleep a whole night—a whole night all to myself! Just a whim of mine, old fellow!”