Complete Works of Emile Zola (611 page)

“Oh yes! I’m a baggage,” she resumed slowly. “Oh yes, the future father-in-law will have to be dragged from between my claws! Dear me, dear me, for a fellow with NOUS, you’re jolly stupid! What! D’you mean to say you’re going to tell your tales to a man who adores me and tells me everything? Now just listen: you shall marry if I wish it, my little man!”

For a minute or two he had felt the truth of this, and now he began scheming out a method of submission. Nevertheless, he still talked jokingly, not wishing the matter to grow serious, and after he had put on his gloves he demanded the hand of Mlle Estelle de Beuville in the strict regulation manner. Nana ended by laughing, as though she had been tickled. Oh, that Mimi! It was impossible to bear him a grudge! Daguenet’s great successes with ladies of her class were due to the sweetness of his voice, a voice of such musical purity and pliancy as to have won him among courtesans the sobriquet of “Velvet-Mouth.” Every woman would give way to him when he lulled her with his sonorous caresses. He knew this power and rocked Nana to sleep with endless words, telling her all kinds of idiotic anecdotes. When they left the table d’hote she was blushing rosy-red; she trembled as she hung on his arm; he had reconquered her. As it was very fine, she sent her carriage away and walked with him as far as his own place, where she went upstairs with him naturally enough. Two hours later, as she was dressing again, she said:

“So you hold to this marriage of yours, Mimi?”

“Egad,” he muttered, “it’s the best thing I could possibly do after all! You know I’m stony broke.”

She summoned him to button her boots, and after a pause:

“Good heavens! I’ve no objection. I’ll shove you on! She’s as dry as a lath, is that little thing, but since it suits your game — oh, I’m agreeable: I’ll run the thing through for you.”

Then with bosom still uncovered, she began laughing:

“Only what will you give me?”

He had caught her in his arms and was kissing her on the shoulders in a perfect access of gratitude while she quivered with excitement and struggled merrily and threw herself backward in her efforts to be free.

“Oh, I know,” she cried, excited by the contest. “Listen to what I want in the way of commission. On your wedding day you shall make me a present of your innocence. Before your wife, d’you understand?”

“That’s it! That’s it!” he said, laughing even louder than Nana.

The bargain amused them — they thought the whole business very good, indeed.

Now as it happened, there was a dinner at Nana’s next day. For the matter of that, it was the customary Thursday dinner, and Muffat, Vandeuvres, the young Hugons and Satin were present. The count arrived early. He stood in need of eighty thousand francs wherewith to free the young woman from two or three debts and to give her a set of sapphires she was dying to possess. As he had already seriously lessened his capital, he was in search of a lender, for he did not dare to sell another property. With the advice of Nana herself he had addressed himself to Labordette, but the latter, deeming it too heavy an undertaking, had mentioned it to the hairdresser Francis, who willingly busied himself in such affairs in order to oblige his lady clients. The count put himself into the hands of these gentlemen but expressed a formal desire not to appear in the matter, and they both undertook to keep in hand the bill for a hundred thousand francs which he was to sign, excusing themselves at the same time for charging a matter of twenty thousand francs interest and loudly denouncing the blackguard usurers to whom, they declared, it had been necessary to have recourse. When Muffat had himself announced, Francis was putting the last touches to Nana’s coiffure. Labordette also was sitting familiarly in the dressing room, as became a friend of no consequence. Seeing the count, he discreetly placed a thick bundle of bank notes among the powders and pomades, and the bill was signed on the marble-topped dressing table. Nana was anxious to keep Labordette to dinner, but he declined — he was taking a rich foreigner about Paris. Muffat, however, led him aside and begged him to go to Becker, the jeweler, and bring him back thence the set of sapphires, which he wanted to present the young woman by way of surprise that very evening. Labordette willingly undertook the commission, and half an hour later Julien handed the jewel case mysteriously to the count.

During dinnertime Nana was nervous. The sight of the eighty thousand francs had excited her. To think all that money was to go to tradespeople! It was a disgusting thought. After soup had been served she grew sentimental, and in the splendid dining room, glittering with plate and glass, she talked of the bliss of poverty. The men were in evening dress, Nana in a gown of white embroidered satin, while Satin made a more modest appearance in black silk with a simple gold heart at her throat, which was a present from her kind friend. Julien and Francois waited behind the guests and were assisted in this by Zoe. All three looked most dignified.

“It’s certain I had far greater fun when I hadn’t a cent!” Nana repeated.

She had placed Muffat on her right hand and Vandeuvres on her left, but she scarcely looked at them, so taken up was she with Satin, who sat in state between Philippe and Georges on the opposite side of the table.

“Eh, duckie?” she kept saying at every turn. “How we did use to laugh in those days when we went to Mother Josse’s school in the Rue Polonceau!”

When the roast was being served the two women plunged into a world of reminiscences. They used to have regular chattering fits of this kind when a sudden desire to stir the muddy depths of their childhood would possess them. These fits always occurred when men were present: it was as though they had given way to a burning desire to treat them to the dunghill on which they had grown to woman’s estate. The gentlemen paled visibly and looked embarrassed. The young Hugons did their best to laugh, while Vandeuvres nervously toyed with his beard and Muffat redoubled his gravity.

“You remember Victor?” said Nana. “There was a wicked little fellow for you! Why, he used to take the little girls into cellars!”

“I remember him perfectly,” replied Satin. “I recollect the big courtyard at your place very well. There was a portress there with a broom!”

“Mother Boche — she’s dead.”

“And I can still picture your shop. Your mother was a great fatty. One evening when we were playing your father came in drunk. Oh, so drunk!”

At this point Vandeuvres tried to intercept the ladies’ reminiscences and to effect a diversion,

“I say, my dear, I should be very glad to have some more truffles. They’re simply perfect. Yesterday I had some at the house of the Duc de Corbreuse, which did not come up to them at all.”

“The truffles, Julien!” said Nana roughly.

Then returning to the subject:

“By Jove, yes, Dad hadn’t any sense! And then what a smash there was! You should have seen it — down, down, down we went, starving away all the time. I can tell you I’ve had to bear pretty well everything and it’s a miracle I didn’t kick the bucket over it, like Daddy and Mamma.”

This time Muffat, who was playing with his knife in a state of infinite exasperation, made so bold as to intervene.

“What you’re telling us isn’t very cheerful.”

“Eh, what? Not cheerful!” she cried with a withering glance. “I believe you; it isn’t cheerful! Somebody had to earn a living for us dear boy. Oh yes, you know, I’m the right sort; I don’t mince matters. Mamma was a laundress; Daddy used to get drunk, and he died of it! There! If it doesn’t suit you — if you’re ashamed of my family — “

They all protested. What was she after now? They had every sort of respect for her family! But she went on:

“If you’re ashamed of my family you’ll please leave me, because I’m not one of those women who deny their father and mother. You must take me and them together, d’you understand?”

They took her as required; they accepted the dad, the mamma, the past; in fact, whatever she chose. With their eyes fixed on the tablecloth, the four now sat shrinking and insignificant while Nana, in a transport of omnipotence, trampled on them in the old muddy boots worn long since in the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or. She was determined not to lay down the cudgels just yet. It was all very fine to bring her fortunes, to build her palaces; she would never leave off regretting the time when she munched apples! Oh, what bosh that stupid thing money was! It was made for the tradespeople! Finally her outburst ended in a sentimentally expressed desire for a simple, openhearted existence, to be passed in an atmosphere of universal benevolence.

When she got to this point she noticed Julien waiting idly by.

“Well, what’s the matter? Hand the champagne then!” she said. “Why d’you stand staring at me like a goose?”

During this scene the servants had never once smiled. They apparently heard nothing, and the more their mistress let herself down, the more majestic they became. Julien set to work to pour out the champagne and did so without mishap, but Francois, who was handing round the fruit, was so unfortunate as to tilt the fruit dish too low, and the apples, the pears and the grapes rolled on the table.

“You bloody clumsy lot!” cried Nana.

The footman was mistaken enough to try and explain that the fruit had not been firmly piled up. Zoe had disarranged it by taking out some oranges.

“Then it’s Zoe that’s the goose!” said Nana.

“Madame — “ murmured the lady’s maid in an injured tone.

Straightway Madame rose to her feet, and in a sharp voice and with royally authoritative gesture:

“We’ve had enough of this, haven’t we? Leave the room, all of you! We don’t want you any longer!”

This summary procedure calmed her down, and she was forthwith all sweetness and amiability. The dessert proved charming, and the gentlemen grew quite merry waiting on themselves. But Satin, having peeled a pear, came and ate it behind her darling, leaning on her shoulder the while and whispering sundry little remarks in her ear, at which they both laughed very loudly. By and by she wanted to share her last piece of pear with Nana and presented it to her between her teeth. Whereupon there was a great nibbling of lips, and the pear was finished amid kisses. At this there was a burst of comic protest from the gentlemen, Philippe shouting to them to take it easy and Vandeuvres asking if one ought to leave the room. Georges, meanwhile, had come and put his arm round Satin’s waist and had brought her back to her seat.

“How silly of you!” said Nana. “You’re making her blush, the poor, darling duck. Never mind, dear girl, let them chaff. It’s our own little private affair.”

And turning to Muffat, who was watching them with his serious expression:

“Isn’t it, my friend?”

“Yes, certainly,” he murmured with a slow nod of approval.

He no longer protested now. And so amid that company of gentlemen with the great names and the old, upright traditions, the two women sat face to face, exchanging tender glances, conquering, reigning, in tranquil defiance of the laws of sex, in open contempt for the male portion of the community. The gentlemen burst into applause.

The company went upstairs to take coffee in the little drawing room, where a couple of lamps cast a soft glow over the rosy hangings and the lacquer and old gold of the knickknacks. At that hour of the evening the light played discreetly over coffers, bronzes and china, lighting up silver or ivory inlaid work, bringing into view the polished contours of a carved stick and gleaming over a panel with glossy silky reflections. The fire, which had been burning since the afternoon, was dying out in glowing embers. It was very warm — the air behind the curtains and hangings was languid with warmth. The room was full of Nana’s intimate existence: a pair of gloves, a fallen handkerchief, an open book, lay scattered about, and their owner seemed present in careless attire with that well-known odor of violets and that species of untidiness which became her in her character of good-natured courtesan and had such a charming effect among all those rich surroundings. The very armchairs, which were as wide as beds, and the sofas, which were as deep as alcoves, invited to slumber oblivious of the flight of time and to tender whispers in shadowy corners.

Satin went and lolled back in the depths of a sofa near the fireplace. She had lit a cigarette, but Vandeuvres began amusing himself by pretending to be ferociously jealous. Nay, he even threatened to send her his seconds if she still persisted in keeping Nana from her duty. Philippe and Georges joined him and teased her and badgered her so mercilessly that at last she shouted out:

“Darling! Darling! Do make ‘em keep quiet! They’re still after me!”

“Now then, let her be,” said Nana seriously. “I won’t have her tormented; you know that quite well. And you, my pet, why d’you always go mixing yourself up with them when they’ve got so little sense?”

Satin, blushing all over and putting out her tongue, went into the dressing room, through the widely open door of which you caught a glimpse of pale marbles gleaming in the milky light of a gas flame in a globe of rough glass. After that Nana talked to the four men as charmingly as hostess could. During the day she had read a novel which was at that time making a good deal of noise. It was the history of a courtesan, and Nana was very indignant, declaring the whole thing to be untrue and expressing angry dislike to that kind of monstrous literature which pretends to paint from nature. “Just as though one could describe everything,” she said. Just as though a novel ought not to be written so that the reader may while away an hour pleasantly! In the matter of books and of plays Nana had very decided opinions: she wanted tender and noble productions, things that would set her dreaming and would elevate her soul. Then allusion being made in the course of conversation to the troubles agitating Paris, the incendiary articles in the papers, the incipient popular disturbances which followed the calls to arms nightly raised at public meetings, she waxed wroth with the Republicans. What on earth did those dirty people who never washed really want? Were folks not happy? Had not the emperor done everything for the people? A nice filthy lot of people! She knew ‘em; she could talk about ‘em, and, quite forgetting the respect which at dinner she had just been insisting should be paid to her humble circle in the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or, she began blackguarding her own class with all the terror and disgust peculiar to a woman who had risen successfully above it. That very afternoon she had read in the Figaro an account of the proceedings at a public meeting which had verged on the comic. Owing to the slang words that had been used and to the piggish behavior of a drunken man who had got himself chucked, she was laughing at those proceedings still.