Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [106]
“It’s positively sickening!” muttered Caroline Héquet between her teeth.
Nana checked her with a shrug of the shoulders. For some little while she had not said a word, but walked along, looking slightly pale and very serious. Suddenly, at another turn, they found themselves close to the village; the wall abruptly terminated, and the château appeared at the end of a spacious courtyard. They all stopped, lost in admiration of the lofty grandeur of the broad entrance-steps, of the twenty windows that studded the facade, of the extent of the three wings, the brick walls of which were framed with stone-work. Henri IV. had inhabited that historic building, in which his bedroom still existed, with its enormous bed hung with Genoa velvet. Nana, deeply affected, sighed like a child.
“My goodness!” murmured she very softly to herself.
But a violent emotion seized upon all. Gaga, on a sudden, stated that it was Irma in person who was standing in front of the church. She recognised her perfectly; always upright, the minx, in spite of her age, and just the same eyes when she assumed her grand air. Vespers were just over. For an instant madame stood within the porch. She wore a silk dress of the colour of faded leaves, and looked very tall and simple, with the venerable countenance of an old marchioness who had escaped the horrors of the Revolution. In her right hand a bulky prayer-book shone in the sunshine; and she slowly traversed the open space before the church, followed by a footman in livery, who walked at a respectful distance behind her. The congregation was streaming out; all the Chamont folks bowed low as she passed them; an old man kissed her hand; a woman fell on her knees before her. She was a mighty queen, loaded with years and honours. She ascended the steps of her château and disappeared.
“That’s what one comes to when one is careful,” said Mignon, in a convinced manner, while looking at his sons as though giving them a lesson.
Then every one said something. Labordette thought her wonderfully preserved; Maria Blond called her an offensive name; whilst Lucy became quite angry, saying that one should ever respect old age—in short, they all agreed that she was something stupendous, and then rejoined the carriages. From Chamont to La Mignotte, Nana did not utter a word. She turned round twice to take a look at the château. Lulled by the noise of the wheels, she no longer felt Steiner by her side; she no longer beheld George seated in front of her. A vision rose from out of the twilight—madame still passing slowly along, with the majesty of a mighty queen, loaded with years and honours.
That evening George returned to Les Fondettes in time for dinner. Nana, more and more absent-minded and peculiar, had sent him home to ask his mamma’s forgiveness. It was indispensable, said she severely, seized with a sudden respect for family duties. She even made him promise not to return to her that night. She was tired, and he would only be doing his duty in showing obedience. George, very much bored by this moral lesson, appeared before his mother with a heavy heart, and hanging down his head. Luckily for him, his brother Philippe had arrived—a big soldier and a very lively fellow. This dispelled the storm that was impending. Madame Hugon contented herself with looking at him with her eyes full of tears; whilst Philippe, informed of what had occurred, threatened to bring him back by the ears if he ever returned to that woman. George, greatly relieved, slyly thought of a plan by which he might escape the next afternoon towards two o’clock, and arrange about his meetings with Nana.
During dinner, the guests at Les Fondettes seemed labouring under a certain embarrassment. Vandeuvres had announced his departure; he wished to take Lucy back to Paris, amused at the idea of carrying off this woman, whom he had known for ten years past without having felt the