Nana - Émile Zola (good books to read for young adults txt) 📗

of Count Muffat de Beuville, which were inscribed on the cards,

calmed her down. For a moment or two she remained silent.

 

“Who are they?” she asked at last. “You know them?”

 

“I know the old fellow,” replied Zoe, discreetly pursing up her

lips.

 

And her mistress continuing to question her with her eyes, she added

simply:

 

“I’ve seen him somewhere.”

 

This remark seemed to decide the young woman. Regretfully she left

the kitchen, that asylum of steaming warmth, where you could talk

and take your ease amid the pleasant fumes of the coffeepot which

was being kept warm over a handful of glowing embers. She left Mme

Maloir behind her. That lady was now busy reading her fortune by

the cards; she had never yet taken her hat off, but now in order to

be more at her ease she undid the strings and threw them back over

her shoulders.

 

In the dressing room, where Zoe rapidly helped her on with a tea

gown, Nana revenged herself for the way in which they were all

boring her by muttering quiet curses upon the male sex. These big

words caused the lady’s maid not a little distress, for she saw with

pain that her mistress was not rising superior to her origin as

quickly as she could have desired. She even made bold to beg Madame

to calm herself.

 

“You bet,” was Nana’s crude answer; “they’re swine; they glory in

that sort of thing.”

 

Nevertheless, she assumed her princesslike manner, as she was wont

to call it. But just when she was turning to go into the drawing

room Zoe held her back and herself introduced the Marquis de Chouard

and the Count Muffat into the dressing room. It was much better so.

 

“I regret having kept you waiting, gentlemen,” said the young woman

with studied politeness.

 

The two men bowed and seated themselves. A blind of embroidered

tulle kept the little room in twilight. It was the most elegant

chamber in the flat, for it was hung with some light-colored fabric

and contained a cheval glass framed in inlaid wood, a lounge chair

and some others with arms and blue satin upholsteries. On the

toilet table the bouquets—roses, lilacs and hyacinths—appeared

like a very ruin of flowers. Their perfume was strong and

penetrating, while through the dampish air of the place, which was

full of the spoiled exhalations of the washstand, came occasional

whiffs of a more pungent scent, the scent of some grains or dry

patchouli ground to fine powder at the bottom of a cup. And as she

gathered herself together and drew up her dressing jacket, which had

been ill fastened, Nana had all the appearance of having been

surprised at her toilet: her skin was still damp; she smiled and

looked quite startled amid her frills and laces.

 

“Madame, you will pardon our insistence,” said the Count Muffat

gravely. “We come on a quest. Monsieur and I are members of the

Benevolent Organization of the district.”

 

The Marquis de Chouard hastened gallantly to add:

 

“When we learned that a great artiste lived in this house we

promised ourselves that we would put the claims of our poor people

before her in a very special manner. Talent is never without a

heart.”

 

Nana pretended to be modest. She answered them with little

assenting movements of her head, making rapid reflections at the

same time. It must be the old man that had brought the other one:

he had such wicked eyes. And yet the other was not to be trusted

either: the veins near his temples were so queerly puffed up. He

might quite well have come by himself. Ah, now that she thought of

it, it was this way: the porter had given them her name, and they

had egged one another on, each with his own ends in view.

 

“Most certainly, gentlemen, you were quite right to come up,” she

said with a very good grace.

 

But the electric bell made her tremble again. Another call, and

that Zoe always opening the door! She went on:

 

“One is only too happy to be able to give.”

 

At bottom she was flattered.

 

“Ah, madame,” rejoined the marquis, “if only you knew about it!

there’s such misery! Our district has more than three thousand poor

people in it, and yet it’s one of the richest. You cannot picture

to yourself anything like the present distress—children with no

bread, women ill, utterly without assistance, perishing of the

cold!”

 

“The poor souls!” cried Nana, very much moved.

 

Such was her feeling of compassion that tears flooded her fine eyes.

No longer studying deportment, she leaned forward with a quick

movement, and under her open dressing jacket her neck became

visible, while the bent position of her knees served to outline the

rounded contour of the thigh under the thin fabric of her skirt. A

little flush of blood appeared in the marquis’s cadaverous cheeks.

Count Muffat, who was on the point of speaking, lowered his eyes.

The air of that little room was too hot: it had the close, heavy

warmth of a greenhouse. The roses were withering, and intoxicating

odors floated up from the patchouli in the cup.

 

“One would like to be very rich on occasions like this,” added Nana.

“Well, well, we each do what we can. Believe me, gentlemen, if I

had known—”

 

She was on the point of being guilty of a silly speech, so melted

was she at heart. But she did not end her sentence and for a moment

was worried at not being able to remember where she had put her

fifty francs on changing her dress. But she recollected at last:

they must be on the corner of her toilet table under an inverted

pomatum pot. As she was in the act of rising the bell sounded for

quite a long time. Capital! Another of them still! It would never

end. The count and the marquis had both risen, too, and the ears of

the latter seemed to be pricked up and, as it were, pointing toward

the door; doubtless he knew that kind of ring. Muffat looked at

him; then they averted their gaze mutually. They felt awkward and

once more assumed their frigid bearing, the one looking square-set

and solid with his thick head of hair, the other drawing back his

lean shoulders, over which fell his fringe of thin white locks.

 

“My faith,” said Nana, bringing the ten big silver pieces and quite

determined to laugh about it, “I am going to entrust you with this,

gentlemen. It is for the poor.”

 

And the adorable little dimple in her chin became apparent. She

assumed her favorite pose, her amiable baby expression, as she held

the pile of five-franc pieces on her open palm and offered it to the

men, as though she were saying to them, “Now then, who wants some?”

The count was the sharper of the two. He took fifty francs but left

one piece behind and, in order to gain possession of it, had to pick

it off the young woman’s very skin, a moist, supple skin, the touch

of which sent a thrill through him. She was thoroughly merry and

did not cease laughing.

 

“Come, gentlemen,” she continued. “Another time I hope to give

more.”

 

The gentlemen no longer had any pretext for staying, and they bowed

and went toward the door. But just as they were about to go out the

bell rang anew. The marquis could not conceal a faint smile, while

a frown made the count look more grave than before. Nana detained

them some seconds so as to give Zoe time to find yet another corner

for the newcomers. She did not relish meetings at her house. Only

this time the whole place must be packed! She was therefore much

relieved when she saw the drawing room empty and asked herself

whether Zoe had really stuffed them into the cupboards.

 

“Au revoir, gentlemen,” she said, pausing on the threshold of the

drawing room.

 

It was as though she lapped them in her laughing smile and clear,

unclouded glance. The Count Muffat bowed slightly. Despite his

great social experience he felt that he had lost his equilibrium.

He needed air; he was overcome with the dizzy feeling engendered in

that dressing room with a scent of flowers, with a feminine essence

which choked him. And behind his back, the Marquis de Chouard, who

was sure that he could not be seen, made so bold as to wink at Nana,

his whole face suddenly altering its expression as he did so, and

his tongue nigh lolling from his mouth.

 

When the young woman re-entered the little room, where Zoe was

awaiting her with letters and visiting cards, she cried out,

laughing more heartily than ever:

 

“There are a pair of beggars for you! Why, they’ve got away with my

fifty francs!”

 

She wasn’t vexed. It struck her as a joke that MEN should have got

money out of her. All the same, they were swine, for she hadn’t a

sou left. But at sight of the cards and the letters her bad temper

returned. As to the letters, why, she said “pass” to them. They

were from fellows who, after applauding her last night, were now

making their declarations. And as to the callers, they might go

about their business!

 

Zoe had stowed them all over the place, and she called attention to

the great capabilities of the flat, every room in which opened on

the corridor. That wasn’t the case at Mme Blanche’s, where people

had all to go through the drawing room. Oh yes, Mme Blanche had had

plenty of bothers over it!

 

“You will send them all away,” continued Nana in pursuance of her

idea. “Begin with the nigger.”

 

“Oh, as to him, madame, I gave him his marching orders a while ago,”

said Zoe with a grin. “He only wanted to tell Madame that he

couldn’t come tonight.”

 

There was vast joy at this announcement, and Nana clapped her hands.

He wasn’t coming, what good luck! She would be free then! And she

emitted sighs of relief, as though she had been let off the most

abominable of tortures. Her first thought was for Daguenet. Poor

duck, why, she had just written to tell him to wait till Thursday!

Quick, quick, Mme Maloir should write a second letter! But Zoe

announced that Mme Maloir had slipped away unnoticed, according to

her wont. Whereupon Nana, after talking of sending someone to him,

began to hesitate. She was very tired. A long night’s sleep—oh,

it would be so jolly! The thought of such a treat overcame her at

last. For once in a way she could allow herself that!

 

“I shall go to bed when I come back from the theater,” she murmured

greedily, “and you won’t wake me before noon.”

 

Then raising her voice:

 

“Now then, gee up! Shove the others downstairs!”

 

Zoe did not move. She would never have dreamed of giving her

mistress overt advice, only now she made shift to give Madame the

benefit of her experience when Madame seemed to be running her hot

head against a wall.

 

“Monsieur Steiner as well?” she queried curtly.

 

“Why, certainly!” replied Nana. “Before all the rest.”

 

The maid still waited, in order to give her mistress time for

reflection. Would not Madame be proud to get such a rich gentleman

away from her rival Rose Mignon—a man, moreover, who was known in

all the theaters?

 

“Now make haste, my dear,” rejoined Nana, who perfectly understood

the situation, “and tell him he pesters me.”

 

But suddenly there was a reversion of feeling.