Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [168]
For some little time past, Count Muffat had seemed uneasy. One morning, in a very agitated state, he placed under Nana’s eyes an anonymous letter, in which she saw, in the first few lines, that she was accused of being unfaithful to the count with Vandeuvres and the two Hugons.
“It’s false! it’s false!” she exclaimed energetically, with an extraordinary accent of truthfulness.
“You swear it?” asked Muffat, already relieved.
“Oh! on what you like—on my child’s head!”
But the letter was long. Afterwards it went on to recount her connection with Satin in the most ignoble terms. When she reached the end she smiled.
“Now I know where it comes from,” said she, simply.
And as Muffat wished for a denial of the latter part, she resumed coolly, “That, my dear, is a thing which does not concern you. What can it matter to you?”
She did not deny it. His words showed his disgust. Then she shrugged her shoulders. Where did he spring from? That sort of thing happened everywhere, and she named her friends; she even swore that ladies in the best positions were no strangers to it. In short, to hear her, there was nothing more common or more natural. What was not true, was not true; he had seen, just before, how indignant she was about Vandeuvres and the two Hugons. Ah! had that been true he would have done right in strangling her. But what was the use of telling him a lie about a matter of no consequence? And she kept repeating,
“Come now, what can it matter to you?”
Then as he continued to complain, she silenced him, saying in a rough voice,
“Well, my friend, if it doesn’t please you, you have a very simple remedy. The doors are all open. You must either take me as I am, or leave me alone!”
He bowed his head. In his heart he was pleased with the young woman’s protestations. She, seeing her power, no longer hesitated employing it; and from that time Satin was openly installed as part of the establishment, on the same footing as the gentlemen. Vandeuvres had not required the anonymous letter to understand what was going on. He joked about it, and had little quarrels of jealousy with Satin; whilst Philippe and George treated her as a comrade, shaking hands with her and saying some very equivocal things.
Nana had an adventure. One night, having been abandoned by the hussy, she had gone to dine in the Rue des Martyrs, without being able to come across her. While she was eating alone, Daguenet made his appearance. Though he had settled down, he came there occasionally—his old vices getting the better of him—trusting not to meet any of his friends in those dark corners of Parisian abomination. Consequently, Nana’s presence seemed rather to put him out at first; but he was not the man to beat a retreat. He advanced smiling. He asked if madame would permit him to dine at her table. Seeing him inclined to joke, Nana put on her grand cold air, and sharply replied,
“Seat yourself wherever you please, sir. We are in a public place.”
Commenced in this style, the conversation became very funny; but when the dessert was served, Nana, feeling bored, and burning to triumph, put her elbows on the table, and then resumed her old familiar way.
“Well, and your marriage, my boy; how is it getting on?”
“Not very well,” admitted Daguenet.
As a matter of fact, when about to venture to ask for the young lady’s hand, he had encountered such a coldness on the count’s part that he had prudently abstained from doing so. It seemed to him that it was all up. Nana looked him straight in the face with her bright eyes, her chin in her hand, an ironic smile on her lips.
“Ah! so I’m a hussy!” she resumed slowly. “Ah! so you must deliver the future father-in-law from my clutches. Well, really! for an intelligent fellow, you’re a damned fool! What! you go and say a lot of nasty things to a man who adores