Nana, Émile Zola [reading list txt] 📗
- Author: Émile Zola
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were a child whose affectionate advances were fatiguing, and once
more she told him that he ought to take his departure. He did not
gainsay her. All in good time—he would go all in good time!
But a bird raised its song and again was silent. It was a robin in
an elder tree below the window.
“Wait one moment,” whispered Georges; “the lamp’s frightening him.
I’ll put it out.”
And when he came back and took her waist again he added:
“We’ll relight it in a minute.”
Then as she listened to the robin and the boy pressed against her
side, Nana remembered. Ah yes, it was in novels that she had got to
know all this! In other days she would have given her heart to have
a full moon and robins and a lad dying of love for her. Great God,
she could have cried, so good and charming did it all seem to her!
Beyond a doubt she had been born to live honestly! So she pushed
Georges away again, and he grew yet bolder.
“No, let me be. I don’t care about it. It would be very wicked at
your age. Now listen—I’ll always be your mamma.”
A sudden feeling of shame overcame her. She was blushing
exceedingly, and yet not a soul could see her. The room behind them
was full of black night while the country stretched before them in
silence and lifeless solitude. Never had she known such a sense of
shame before. Little by little she felt her power of resistance
ebbing away, and that despite her embarrassed efforts to the
contrary. That disguise of his, that woman’s shift and that
dressing jacket set her laughing again. It was as though a girl
friend were teasing her.
“Oh, it’s not right; it’s not right!” she stammered after a last
effort.
And with that, in face of the lovely night, she sank like a young
virgin into the arms of this mere child. The house slept.
Next morning at Les Fondettes, when the bell rang for lunch, the
dining-room table was no longer too big for the company. Fauchery
and Daguenet had been driven up together in one carriage, and after
them another had arrived with the Count de Vandeuvres, who had
followed by the next train. Georges was the last to come
downstairs. He was looking a little pale, and his eyes were sunken,
but in answer to questions he said that he was much better, though
he was still somewhat shaken by the violence of the attack. Mme
Hugon looked into his eyes with an anxious smile and adjusted his
hair which had been carelessly combed that morning, but he drew back
as though embarrassed by this tender little action. During the meal
she chaffed Vandeuvres very pleasantly and declared that she had
expected him for five years past.
“Well, here you are at last! How have you managed it?”
Vandeuvres took her remarks with equal pleasantry. He told her that
he had lost a fabulous sum of money at the club yesterday and
thereupon had come away with the intention of ending up in the
country.
“‘Pon my word, yes, if only you can find me an heiress in these
rustic parts! There must be delightful women hereabouts.”
The old lady rendered equal thanks to Daguenet and Fauchery for
having been so good as to accept her son’s invitation, and then to
her great and joyful surprise she saw the Marquis de Chouard enter
the room. A third carriage had brought him.
“Dear me, you’ve made this your trysting place today!” she cried.
“You’ve passed word round! But what’s happening? For years I’ve
never succeeded in bringing you all together, and now you all drop
in at once. Oh, I certainly don’t complain.”
Another place was laid. Fauchery found himself next the Countess
Sabine, whose liveliness and gaiety surprised him when he remembered
her drooping, languid state in the austere Rue Miromesnil drawing
room. Daguenet, on the other hand, who was seated on Estelle’s
left, seemed slightly put out by his propinquity to that tall,
silent girl. The angularity of her elbows was disagreeable to him.
Muffat and Chouard had exchanged a sly glance while Vandeuvres
continued joking about his coming marriage.
“Talking of ladies,” Mme Hugon ended by saying, “I have a new
neighbor whom you probably know.”
And she mentioned Nana. Vandeuvres affected the liveliest
astonishment.
“Well, that is strange! Nana’s property near here!”
Fauchery and Daguenet indulged in a similar demonstration while the
Marquis de Chouard discussed the breast of a chicken without
appearing to comprehend their meaning. Not one of the men had
smiled.
“Certainly,” continued the old lady, “and the person in question
arrived at La Mignotte yesterday evening, as I was saying she would.
I got my information from the gardener this morning.”
At these words the gentlemen could not conceal their very real
surprise. They all looked up. Eh? What? Nana had come down! But
they were only expecting her next day; they were privately under the
impression that they would arrive before her! Georges alone sat
looking at his glass with drooped eyelids and a tired expression.
Ever since the beginning of lunch he had seemed to be sleeping with
open eyes and a vague smile on his lips.
“Are you still in pain, my Zizi?” asked his mother, who had been
gazing at him throughout the meal.
He started and blushed as he said that he was very well now, but the
wornout insatiate expression of a girl who has danced too much did
not fade from his face.
“What’s the matter with your neck?” resumed Mme Hugon in an alarmed
tone. “It’s all red.”
He was embarrassed and stammered. He did not know—he had nothing
the matter with his neck. Then drawing his shirt collar up:
“Ah yes, some insect stung me there!”
The Marquis de Chouard had cast a sidelong glance at the little red
place. Muffat, too, looked at Georges. The company was finishing
lunch and planning various excursions. Fauchery was growing
increasingly excited with the Countess Sabine’s laughter. As he was
passing her a dish of fruit their hands touched, and for one second
she looked at him with eyes so full of dark meaning that he once
more thought of the secret which had been communicated to him one
evening after an uproarious dinner. Then, too, she was no longer
the same woman. Something was more pronounced than of old, and her
gray foulard gown which fitted loosely over her shoulders added a
touch of license to her delicate, high-strung elegance.
When they rose from the table Daguenet remained behind with Fauchery
in order to impart to him the following crude witticism about
Estelle: “A nice broomstick that to shove into a man’s hands!”
Nevertheless, he grew serious when the journalist told him the
amount she was worth in the way of dowry.
“Four hundred thousand francs.”
“And the mother?” queried Fauchery. “She’s all right, eh?”
“Oh, SHE’LL work the oracle! But it’s no go, my dear man!”
“Bah! How are we to know? We must wait and see.”
It was impossible to go out that day, for the rain was still falling
in heavy showers. Georges had made haste to disappear from the
scene and had double-locked his door. These gentlemen avoided
mutual explanations, though they were none of them deceived as to
the reasons which had brought them together. Vandeuvres, who had
had a very bad time at play, had really conceived the notion of
lying fallow for a season, and he was counting on Nana’s presence in
the neighborhood as a safeguard against excessive boredom. Fauchery
had taken advantage of the holidays granted him by Rose, who just
then was extremely busy. He was thinking of discussing a second
notice with Nana, in case country air should render them
reciprocally affectionate. Daguenet, who had been just a little
sulky with her since Steiner had come upon the scene, was dreaming
of resuming the old connection or at least of snatching some
delightful opportunities if occasion offered. As to the Marquis de
Chouard, he was watching for times and seasons. But among all those
men who were busy following in the tracks of Venus—a Venus with the
rouge scarce washed from her cheeks—Muffat was at once the most
ardent and the most tortured by the novel sensations of desire and
fear and anger warring in his anguished members. A formal promise
had been made him; Nana was awaiting him. Why then had she taken
her departure two days sooner than was expected?
He resolved to betake himself to La Mignotte after dinner that same
evening. At night as the count was leaving the park Georges fled
forth after him. He left him to follow the road to Gumieres,
crossed the Choue, rushed into Nana’s presence, breathless, furious
and with tears in his eyes. Ah yes, he understood everything! That
old fellow now on his way to her was coming to keep an appointment!
Nana was dumfounded by this ebullition of jealousy, and, greatly
moved by the way things were turning out, she took him in her arms
and comforted him to the best of her ability. Oh no, he was quite
beside the mark; she was expecting no one. If the gentleman came it
would not be her fault. What a great ninny that Zizi was to be
taking on so about nothing at all! By her child’s soul she swore
she loved nobody except her own Georges. And with that she kissed
him and wiped away his tears.
“Now just listen! You’ll see that it’s all for your sake,” she went
on when he had grown somewhat calmer. “Steiner has arrived—he’s up
above there now. You know, duckie, I can’t turn HIM out of doors.”
“Yes, I know; I’m not talking of HIM,” whispered the boy.
“Very well then, I’ve stuck him into the room at the end. I said I
was out of sorts. He’s unpacking his trunk. Since nobody’s seen
you, be quick and run up and hide in my room and wait for me.
Georges sprang at her and threw his arms round her neck. It was
true after all! She loved him a little! So they would put the lamp
out as they did yesterday and be in the dark till daytime! Then as
the front-door bell sounded he quietly slipped away. Upstairs in
the bedroom he at once took off his shoes so as not to make any
noise and straightway crouched down behind a curtain and waited
soberly.
Nana welcomed Count Muffat, who, though still shaken with passion,
was now somewhat embarrassed. She had pledged her word to him and
would even have liked to keep it since he struck her as a serious,
practicable lover. But truly, who could have foreseen all that
happened yesterday? There was the voyage and the house she had
never set eyes on before and the arrival of the drenched little
lover! How sweet it had all seemed to her, and how delightful it
would be to continue in it! So much the worse for the gentleman!
For three months past she had been keeping him dangling after her
while she affected conventionality in order the further to inflame
him. Well, well! He would have to continue dangling, and if he
didn’t like that he could go! She would sooner have thrown up
everything than have played false to Georges.
The count had seated himself with all the ceremonious politeness
becoming a country caller. Only his hands were trembling slightly.
Lust, which Nana’s skillful tactics daily exasperated, had at last
wrought terrible havoc in that
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