Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [129]
“Of course! I knew it,” said she. “You brought them back again on your feet. I can’t go to sleep like this! I tell you I can’t! ”
And she rose in bed, as though about to step over him. Then, unable to stand it any longer, and wishing to go to sleep, Fontan thrust out his arm and slapped her. The blow was given with such force that Nana at once found herself lying down in bed again, with her head on the pillow. She lay still as though stunned.
“Oh!” said she simply, sighing like a child.
He threatened her with another smack if she moved again. Then, blowing out the candle, he turned on his back, and soon began to snore. She buried her face in her pillow to smother her sobs. It was cowardly to take advantage of her inferior strength. But she was dreadfully frightened, Fontan’s usually funny face had looked so terrible. And her anger disappeared, as though the smack had appeased it. She respected him; she squeezed up against the wall to leave him all the room. With her cheek tingling, her eyes full of tears, she even ended by falling asleep in such a delicious dejection of spirits, in such a wearied state of submission, that she no longer felt the crumbs. In the morning, when she awoke, she had her arms round Fontan, holding him very tightly. He would never do it again, would he now? She loved him too much. Still it was even nice to be beaten by him.
From that night their life entirely changed. For a “yes” or a “no” Fontan struck her. She, getting used to it, submitted. Occasionally she cried out or menaced him; but he forced her against the wall, and talked of strangling her, and that made her yield. More frequently she fell on to a chair and sobbed for five minutes. Then she forgot all about it, becoming very gay, and singing and laughing and skipping about the room. The worst was that Fontan now disappeared all day and never came home before midnight; he frequented the cafés where he was likely to meet his friends. Nana tremblingly and caressingly submitted to everything, not daring to utter a reproach for fear of never seeing him again. But some days, when she had neither Madame Maloir nor her aunt with little Louis to help her pass away the time, she felt very wretched indeed. Therefore, one Sunday, when she had gone to the Rochefoucauld market to purchase some pigeons, she was delighted to come across Satin, who was buying a bunch of radishes. Ever since the evening when the prince had partaken of Fontan’s champagne, they had lost sight of each other.
“What! it’s you! you live in this neighbourhood?” asked Satin, amazed at seeing her out of doors in her slippers at that time of day. “Ah! my poor girl, you must be down in your luck! ”
Nana frowned at her to make her leave off, because there were some other women there, women in dressing-gowns, and who did not appear to have any underclothes on, whose hair was all dishevelled and whose faces were smothered with powder. Every morning all the loose women of the neighbourhood, having scarcely got rid of the men picked up the night before, came to make their purchases, dragging their old shoes over the pavement, their eyes heavy with want of sleep, and in the bad temper caused by the fatigue of a night of dissipation. Down every street leading to the market they could be seen coming, all looking very pale, some quite young girls most seductive in appearance, others regular old hags, both fat and flabby, not minding in the least to be seen thus outside their business hours; whilst the passers-by might turn to look at them without even one of them deigning to smile, for they were all in too much of a hurry for that, and went about their errands with the disdainful airs of thrifty women who have no dealings with men whatever. Just as Satin was paying for her bunch of radishes, a young