Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [170]
“I certainly amused myself a great deal more when I was without a sou,” Nana kept repeating.
She had Muffat on her right and Vandeuvres on her left but she scarcely looked at them, being entirely occupied with Satin, enthroned in front of her between Philippe and George.
“Eh, my love?” she said at each phrase. “Didn’t we use to laugh at that time, when we went to old mother Josse’s school, in the Rue Polonceau?”
They were then serving the roast. The two women launched forth into recollections of their young days. They every now and then had a longing for gossip, a sudden desire to stir up all the mud of their youth; and it was invariably when men were present, as though yielding to a mania for making them acquainted with the dungheap whence they sprouted. The gentlemen turned pale, and glanced about in an embarrassed manner. The two Hugons tried to laugh, whilst Vandeuvres nervously twirled his beard, and Muffat looked more solemn than ever.
“Do you remember Victor?” asked Nana. “He was a depraved youngster; he used to take little girls into the cellars!”
“I remember,” replied Satin. “And I remember, too, the big courtyard at your place. There was a doorkeeper with a broom—”
“Mother Boche; she is dead.”
“And I can still see your shop. Your mother was awfully stout. One night when we were playing, your father came home drunk, oh! so drunk!”
At this moment Vandeuvres essayed a diversion, by interrupting the ladies in the midst of their reminiscences.
“I say, my dear, I should like some more truSles—they are excellent. I had some yesterday at the Duke de Corbreuse’s, which were not to be compared to these.”
“Julien, hand the truffles!” said Nana roughly. Then she resumed. “Ah, yes! papa was very foolish. What a tumble-down! Ah! if you had only seen it—a regular plunge, such misery! I can well say that I have tasted of all sorts, and it’s a miracle I didn’t leave my carcass there, the same as papa and mamma.”
This time Muffat, who had been nervously playing with a knife, ventured to interfere.
“It is not a very amusing subject you are talking about.”
“Eh? what? not amusing?” exclaimed she, crushing him with a look. “I don’t suppose it is amusing! You should have sent us some bread, my dear. Oh! as you know I’m a true-hearted girl, I say what I think. Mamma was a washerwoman, papa used to get drunk, and he died from it. There! if that doesn’t suit you, if you’re ashamed of my family—”
They all protested. What was she thinking of? They respected her family. But she continued:
“If you’re ashamed of my family, well, leave me; for I’m not one of those women who disown their father and mother. You must take me with them, do you hear?”
They took her—they accepted the father and the mother, the past, everything she wished. With their eyes fixed on the table-cloth, they all four now made themselves small, whilst she kept them beneath her muddy old shoes, of the Rue de la Goutte d’Or, with the passion of her all-powerful will. And she was slow to lay down her arms. They might bring her no end of fortunes, build her innumerable palaces, still she would ever regret the time when she used to chew apples with the peel on. It was a fraud, that idiotic money! it was only invented for tradespeople. Then her outburst ended in a sentimental longing for a simple way of living, with one’s heart in one’s hand, in the midst of a universal benevolence.
But at that moment she caught sight of Julien standing with his arms hanging by his sides, and doing nothing.
“Well! what? Pour out the champagne,” said she. “Why