Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [174]
Satin disdained to reply. She did not take her eyes off Nana and the count, who were now left to themselves. Being no longer under any restraint, Muffat had gone and seated himself beside the young woman, and had taken hold of her fingers, which he was kissing. Then she, to create a diversion, asked him if his daughter Estelle was better. The night before he had complained that the child seemed very melancholy; he could never spend a happy day in his own home, with his wife always out and his daughter wrapped up in an icy silence. Nana was always full of good advice respecting these family matters. And as Muffat, his mind and his body upset, began again giving way to his lamentations,
“Why don’t you get her married?” asked she, recollecting her promise.
And she at once ventured to speak of Daguenet. But, at the mention of the name, the count showed his disgust. Never, after what she had told him! She pretended to be greatly surprised, then burst out laughing, and putting her arms round his neck, said,
“Oh! how can you be so jealous? Do be reasonable. He had been talking to you against me, and I was furious. To-day I am really sorry—” But over Muffat’s shoulder she encountered Satin’s fixed gaze. Feeling uneasy, she let go of him, and continued in a serious tone, “My friend, this marriage must take place; I don’t wish to prevent your daughter’s happiness. He’s really a very nice young man, you couldn’t find a better one.”
And she launched forth into unbounded praise of Daguenet. The count had taken hold of her hands again; he no longer said, “no,” he would see, they could talk of it another time. Then as he spoke of going to bed, she lowered her voice and made objections. It was impossible, she was not well; if he loved her a little he would not insist. However, he was obstinate, he would not leave, and she was already giving in when she again encountered Satin’s fixed look. Then she became inflexible. No, it could not be. The count, much affected, and looking far from well, had risen and was seeking his hat. But at the door he recollected the set of sapphires, the case containing which he felt in his pocket. He had intended hiding it at the bottom of the bed, so that her legs might come in contact with it when she first got in; it was a big child’s surprise, which he had been planning ever since dinner. And, in his confusion, in his anguish at being thus dismissed, he abruptly handed her the jewels.
“What is it?” asked she. “Why! sapphires. Ah! yes, that set we saw. How kind of you! But, I say, darling, do you think it’s the same one? It looked better in the window!”
Those were all the thanks he had; she let him go. He had just caught sight of Satin waiting in silence on the sofa. Then he looked at the two women; and, no longer persisting, he submissively went off. The house door was scarcely closed when Satin seized hold of Nana round the waist, and danced and sang. Then, running to the window, she exclaimed:
“Let’s see what a fool he looks outside!”
In the shadow of the curtains, the two women leant on the iron rail. One o’clock struck. The Avenue de Villiers, now deserted, stretched far in the distance, with its double row of gas-lamps, in the midst of that damp darkness of March, swept by great gusts of wind full of rain. Patches of unoccupied ground appeared as masses of shadow; houses in course of construction displayed their tall scaffoldings beneath the black sky. And a mad fit of laughter seized the two girls as they caught sight of Muffat’s round back moving along the wet pavement, with the mournful reflection of his shadow, across that icy, empty plain of a new Paris. But Nana made Satin leave off.
“Take care—the police!”
Then they smothered their laughter, watching with a dumb fear two black figures walking in step on the other side of the Avenue. Nana, in all her luxury—in her royalty of a woman whom every one obeyed—had preserved a dread of the police, not liking to hear them spoken of any more than she did death. She felt uneasy whenever she saw