by Emile Zola
He started, and blushing, answered that he was quite well again; but he still preserved the look of a girl who had been dancing too much.
“What is the matter with your neck?” suddenly asked Madame Hugon, in a frightened tone of voice. “It is all red.”
He became confused, and could scarcely stammer out a reply. He didn’t know; he hadn’t anything the matter with his neck. Then, pulling up his shirt collar, he added, “Ah! yes, some insect stung me.”
The Marquis de Chouard cast a sidelong glance at the red mark. Muffat also looked at George. Luncheon was drawing to an end, and they began to arrange some excursions in the neighbourhood. Fauchery became more and more affected by Countess Sabine’s gaiety. As he passed a plate of fruit to her their hands touched, and she looked at him for a second with so deep a gaze that his thoughts again reverted to that confidence of which he was the recipient on a night of intoxication. Then she no longer appeared the same. There was something that was more pronounced about her. Her grey silk dress, made loose at the shoulders, gave a sort of ease to her refined and sensitive elegance.
On leaving the table, Daguenet remained behind with Fauchery, to make some rather facetious and coarse remarks about Estelle. “A pretty broomstick to shove into a fellow’s arms.” However, he became serious when the journalist mentioned the amount of her dowry: four hundred thousand francs.
“And the mother?” inquired Fauchery. “She’s a fine woman, isn’t she?”
“Oh! she as much as you like! But there’s no chance, my boy!”
“Bah! one never knows without trying!”
No one was going out that day, as it was still very showery. George had hastily disappeared and locked himself in his room. The gentlemen avoided coming to an explanation among themselves, though they individually knew very well what reasons had brought them together. Vandeuvres, who had lost heavily at play, had indeed entertained the idea of spending some time in the country, and counted on the proximity of a female friend to reconcile him to his voluntary exile. Fauchery, taking advantage of the holiday allowed him by Rose, who just then was very much occupied, proposed to make an arrangement with Nana for a second article, in the event of a country life bringing their hearts together again. Daguenet, who had been sulky ever since Steiner appeared on the scene, thought of making it up again, and of picking up a few crumbs of love, should occasion offer. As for the Marquis de Chouard, he bided his time. But among all these men on the track of Venus, only half free of her paint, Muffat was the most ardent, the most tormented with new sensations of desire, of fear, and of anger, which contended in his agitated person. He had a distinct promise. Nana was expecting him. Why, then, had she left Paris two days earlier? He determined to go to La Mignotte that very night, after the dinner.
That evening, as the count left the grounds, George followed him. He parted from him on the road to Gumières, and, wading across the Choue, arrived at Nana’s all out of breath, his eyes filled with tears of rage. Ah! he understood. That old fellow who was on the road had an appointment with her. Nana, astonished at this display of jealousy, uneasy at the turn things were taking, folded her arms around him, and consoled him as well as she could. No; he was mistaken. She was not expecting any one. If the gentleman was coming it was not her fault. Zizi was a great stupid to put himself out so much about nothing at all! She swore by her child that she loved no one but her George, and she kissed him, and wiped away his tears.
“Listen, you will see that everything is for you,” said she, when he had become calmer. “Steiner has arrived, he is upstairs. You know, my darling, I can’t send him away.”
“Yes, I know; I don’t mind him,” murmured the youngster.
“Well, I have put him in the room at the end of the passage, pretending that I was not well. He is unpacking his portmanteau. As no one saw you come in, run up quick and hide yourself in my room, and wait for me.”
George jumped up and put his arms round her. It was true, then, she did love him a little! So it would be yesterday over again? They would turn out the lamp, and remain together till daylight dispelled the darkness. Then, hearing a bell ring, he noiselessly hurried away. Upstairs, in the bed-room, he at once took off his shoes so as not to make any noise. Then he hid himself, crouched upon the floor, behind a curtain, and waited like a good boy.
When Count Muffat appeared, Nana felt a slight awkwardness, having scarcely regained her composure after the scene with George. She had promised the count, and she would have liked to have kept her promise, because he seemed a man who meant business. But, really, who could ever have foreseen all that had occurred the previous day? The journey, this house that she had never known before, the youngster who had arrived soaking wet; and how nice it had all seemed to her, and how pleasant a continuance of it would be! So much the worse for the gentleman! For three months past she had dallied with him, playing the respectable woman, so as to inflame him all the more. Well! he would have to wait a bit longer. He could hook it if it didn’t please him. She would rather chuck up everything than be unfaithful to George.
The count had seated himself in the ceremonious way of a country neighbour making a call. His hands alone trembled slightly. In his sanguineous constitution, still in a state of virginity, inordinate desire, scourged by Nana’s skilful tactics, was at length producing frightful ravages. That grave-looking man, that chamberlain who traversed with such a dignified step the gilded saloons of the Tuileries, would, at night-time, bite the bolster on his bed and sob aloud, carried away by his exasperation, and ever invoking the same sensual vision. But this time he was determined to end his suffering. Along the road, in the peaceful twilight, he had thought of gratifying his passion by force; and directly they had exchanged a few words, he tried to take Nana in his arms.
“No, no, mind what you are doing,” said she simply, without getting angry, and smiling at him all the time.
At length he caught her, his teeth firmly clenched; then, as she struggled, he became brutal, and coarsely told her why he had come. She, still smiling, though embarrassed, held his hands. She spoke to him lovingly, so as to make her refusal seem less harsh.
“Come, my darling, keep quiet. Really, I cannot. Steiner is upstairs.”
But he was mad; never before had she seen a man in such a state. She began to feel frightened. She placed her hand over his mouth to hush the cries he uttered, and, lowering her voice, she begged him to keep quiet, to let her go. Steiner was descending the stairs. Her position had become ridiculous! When Steiner entered the room, he heard Nana, who was comfortably stretched out in an easy chair, saying,
“As for myself, I adore the country.”
Turning her head, she interrupted herself, and added, “Darling, this is Count Muffat, who noticed the lights as he was passing by, and has just called in to bid us welcome.”
The two men shook hands. Muffat stood an instant without speaking, his face in shadow. Steiner seemed sulky. They talked of Paris; business was very bad, and some most abominable things had occured on the Bourse. At the end of a quarter of an hour, Muffat took his leave. And as the young woman accompanied him to the door, he asked, without obtaining it, an appointment for the following evening. Steiner, almost immediately, went off to bed, grumbling against the ailments that were always affecting the female sex. At last, the two old fellows were got rid of! When Nana was at length able to rejoin George, she found him still patiently waiting behind his curtain. The room was in darkness. He had drawn her down on the floor beside him, and they played together, rolling about like children, stopping every now and then, and smothering their laughter with kisses, whenever their feet knocked against any of the furniture. Afar off, on the Gumières road, Count Muffat was walking slowly along, holding his hat in his hand, and cooling his heated brow in the fresh night air.
Then, the following days, their life was adorable. In the youngster’s company, Nana seemed once more a girl of fifteen. Beneath the child’s caresses, the flower of love bloomed again, in spite
of her knowledge of man, and the loathing it caused her. She found herself constantly blushing, she experienced an emotion that made her shiver, an inclination to laugh and cry, in short all the feelings of an awakened virginity added to desires of which she was ashamed. She had never felt thus before. The country filled her with tenderness. When a young child, she had for a long time desired to live in a meadow with a goat, because one day, on the slope of the fortifications, she had seen a goat bleating, fastened to a stake. Now, this estate, all this land belonged to her, swelled her with an overflowing emotion, so much were her wildest dreams more than realised. She again experienced all the sensations of a child; and at night-time, when dizzy from a day spent in the open air, intoxicated with the odour of the trees and flowers, she went upstairs to rejoin her Zizi, hidden behind the curtain, it seemed to her like a freak of a school-girl home for the holidays, a love passage with a cousin whom she was evidently to marry. She trembled at the least sound, as though afraid of being caught by her parents; she tasted all the delicious embarrassments, all the voluptuous fears of a first fault.
At this time, Nana indulged in the fancies of a sentimental girl. She would look at the moon for hours. One night, she insisted on going down into the garden with George, when all the household was asleep; and they wandered about under the trees, their arms round each other’s waists, then they lay down on the grass and got thoroughly soaked with the dew. Another time, in the bed-room, after a rather long pause, Nana sobbed on the youngster’s neck, murmuring she was afraid she was going to die. She often sang in a low voice a ballad of Madame Lerat’s, full of flowers and birds, becoming affected even to tears, and interrupting herself to clasp George in a passionate embrace and cause him to utter vows of eternal love. In short, she behaved very foolishly as she herself would often admit, when, becoming comrades again, they both smoked cigarettes seated on the edge of the bedstead, their heels knocking against the wood-work.
But what caused the young woman’s heart completely to melt was the arrival of little Louis. Her attack of maternal love bordered on madness. She carried her son into the sunshine to see him sprawl about; she rolled with him over the grass, after dressing him like a prince. She at once insisted that he should sleep near her, in the next room, where Madame Lerat, very much smitten with the country, commenced to snore as soon as she was lying on her back. And little Louis did not in the least interfere with her love for Zizi; on the contrary. She said that she had two children; she confounded them in the same caprice of affection. During the night, on more than ten occasions, she quitted Zizi to go and see if little Louis was breathing all right; but when she returned she cuddled her Zizi with the remains of her maternal caresses. She acted the mamma towards him; whilst he, vicious youngster! liking very much to be little in the arms of that big girl, let her nurse him like a baby being rocked to sleep. It was so nice that, charmed with this existence, she seriously proposed to him that they should never again leave the country. They would send every one away, and live alone together—he, she, and the baby. And they built a thousand castles in the air until daybreak, without hearing Madame Lerat, who, tired out with gathering wild flowers, snored loud enough to waken the whole household.
This fine life lasted for nearly a week. Count Muffat came every night, and went back home with swollen features and hot, feverish hands. One night he was not even admitted, Steiner having been obliged to go to Paris. He was told that madame was very unwell. Each day Nana revolted more and more at the idea of being unfaithful to George, so young and so innocent, and who had put his faith in her! She would have considered herself the most worthless of women. Besides, it would have disgusted her too much. Zoé, who assisted at this adventure with silent disdain, thought that madame was becoming cracked.
All on a sudden, on the sixth day, a band of visitors broke in upon this idyllic existence. Nana had invited a number of people, thinking that no one would come. So she was very much astounded and very much vexed, one afternoon, on seeing an omnibus full of men and women draw up in front of the iron gates of La Mignotte.
“Here we are!” cried Mignon, the first to alight from the vehicle, from which he extricated his sons, Henri and Charles.
Labordette appeared next, and immediately assisted a number of ladies to descend—Lucy Stewart, Caroline Héquet, Tatan Néné, Maria Blond. Nana was hoping that that was the end, when La Faloise jumped out, to receive into his trembling arms Gaga and her daughter Amélie. That made eleven persons. It was difficult to find room for them all. At La Mignotte there were five guest chambers, one of which was occupied by Madame Lerat and little Louis. The largest bedroom was given to the Gaga and La Faloise family, and it was decided that Amélie should sleep on a camp-bedstead in the dressing-room adjoining. Mignon and his two sons had the third bedroom; Labordette the fourth. There still remained one, which was turned into a dormitory, with four beds for Lucy, Caroline, Tatan, and Maria. As for Steiner, he would have to sleep on the sofa in the drawing-room. After the lapse of an hour, when everything was settled, Nana, who first of all had felt furious, was delighted at doing the honours of her country abode. The ladies complimented her on La Mignotte—a most enchanting place, my dear! Then they brought her a puff of Paris air, the little scandals of the week. They all spoke at once, with sundry little taps, and exclamations, and bursts of laughter. And Bordenave! by the way, what had he said of her little escapade?
Why nothing much. After bellowing out that he would have her brought back by the gendarmes, when the evening came he merely filled her place with the understudy; and she, little Violaine, had scored a great success in the “Blonde Venus.” This piece of news made Nana serious. It was only four o’clock. They began to talk of going for a stroll.
“You don’t know,” said Nana, “I was about to get some potatoes when you arrived.”
So they all wanted to go and pick up potatoes, without even changing their clothes. They made quite a party. The gardener and two lads were already in the field, at the extreme end of the estate. The ladies knelt down on the ground, feeling in the earth with their fingers covered with rings, crying out every time they discovered a potato of any size. They thought it all so amusing! But Tatan Néné was in her element. She had picked up so many in her younger days, that she so far forgot herself as to give the others the benefit of her experience and to ridicule their awkwardness. The gentlemen took it more coolly. Mignon, looking a very worthy man, profited by his stay in the country to complete his sons’ education. He talked to them of Parmentier, the introducer of the potato into France. In the evening the dinner was madly gay. Every one had an enormous appetite. Nana, very far gone, had a row with her butler, who had been at the Bishop of Orleans’. The ladies smoked with their coffee. Sounds of feasting and revelry issued through the windows, and were lost in the distance, in the serenity of the night; whilst between the hedges the belated peasants turned their heads and looked at the house blazing with light.
“What a nuisance it is you are all going away again the day after to-morrow,” observed Nana. “We must arrange some excursion whilst you are here.”
So it was settled that on the morrow, a Sunday, they should all go and visit the ruins of the ancient abbey of Chamont, which was situated about seven miles off. Five carriages were to come from Orleans to take the party after luncheon, and bring them back to dine at La Mignotte, towards seven o’clock in the evening. It would be delightful.
That night, as usual, Count Muffat ascended the hill to ring the bell at the iron gates. But the lights in the windows, the loud laughter surprised him. Recognising Mignon’s voice he understood it all, and went away enraged by this new obstacle, driven to extremities, determined to use violence. George, who entered by a little side-door of which he had a key, quietly ascended to Nana’s bed-room, keeping close to the walls. Only he had to wait for her until past midnight. She came at last, very tipsy, and more maternal even than on the other nights. When she drank it made her so loving that there was rather too much of i
t. Thus, she insisted on George’s accompanying her to the abbey of Chamont. He resisted, afraid of being seen: if he was noticed in a carriage with her it would cause a frightful scandal. But she burst into tears, seized with the noisy despair of a discarded woman, and he consoled her, and faithfully promised to be one of the party.
“Then you do really love me?” she stuttered. “Say that you love me a lot. Tell me, my own darling, if I died, would you be very unhappy?”
At Les Fondettes, Nana’s proximity upset the whole household. Every morning, during luncheon, worthy Madame Hugon talked in spite of herself about that woman, relating all that her gardener had told her, experiencing that kind of witchery exercised by gay women over the most respectable ladies. She, usually so tolerant, felt indignant and exasperated, with the vague presentiment of some misfortune, which alarmed her at eventide, as though she had known of the presence in the neighbourhood of a wild beast escaped from some menagerie. And she squabbled with her guests, accusing them all of wandering round about La Mignotte. Count de Vandeuvres had been seen laughing on the high road with a lady wearing a large quantity of hair; but he defended himself, swore that it wasn’t Nana, for indeed it was Lucy who accompanied him for the purpose of telling him how she had just sent her third prince to the right about. The Marquis de Chouard went also for long walks every day; but he began to talk at once of his doctor’s directions. As for Daguenet and Fauchery, Madame Hugon treated them very unjustly. The first, especially, never went outside the grounds of Les Fondettes, having abandoned his intention of seeking to renew his intimate acquaintance with Nana, and making himself respectfully assiduous towards Estelle. Fauchery also remained with the Muffat ladies. On one occasion only he had come across Mignon in a lane, his hands full of flowers, and giving a lesson in botany to his sons. The two men had shaken hands and talked of Rose. She was very well; each of them had received a letter from her that very morning, in which she told them to take advantage of the country air as long as they could. Of all her guests, therefore, the old lady only spared Count Muffat and George. The count, who pretended he had some very important business to attend to at Orleans, could not be running after girls; and as for George, the poor child was beginning to cause her the greatest anxiety, for every evening he was seized with the most violent headaches, which forced him to go to bed before it was really dark.