Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [192]
Then Nana, standing on the box-seat of her landau, stretched to her full height, thought it was she that they were applauding. For an instant she stood immovable in the astonishment of her triumph, watching the course invaded by a host so compact, by such a sea of black hats, that the grass could no longer be seen. Then, when all that mob had taken up its position, leaving a narrow passage to the entrance of the course, acclaiming Nana again as she retired with Price, broken in appearance, lifeless, and as though empty, the young woman violently slapped her thighs, forgetting everything as she gave vent to her triumph in the coarsest language.
“Ah! damn it all! it’s me, though. Ah! damn it all! what luck!”
And not knowing how to show the joy that was overwhelming her, she seized hold of and kissed little Louis, whom she had just caught sight of on Bordenave’s shoulder.
“Three minutes and fourteen seconds,” said the latter, putting his watch back into his pocket.
Nana still listened to her name with which the whole plain resounded. It was her people who applauded her, whilst, in a straight line with the sun, she throned over them, with her hair shining like a star, and her blue and white dress of the colour of the heavens. Labordette, before hastening away, told her that she had won two thousand louis, for he had placed her fifty louis on Nana at forty to one. But the money affected her less than that unexpected victory, the splendour of which made her queen of Paris. The other women had all lost. Rose Mignon, in a fit of passion, had broken her parasol; and Caroline Héquet, and Clarisse, and Simone, and even Lucy Stewart, in spite of her son’s presence, all swore in an undertone, exasperated by that big girl’s luck; whilst old Tricon, who had crossed herself both at the start and the finish of the race, towered above them to the full height of her tall body, delighted at her discernment, and like an experienced matron canonizing Nana.
Around the landau, however, the rush of men increased. The band had uttered the most ferocious yells. George, almost choked, continued to shout by himself in a broken voice. As the champagne ran short, Philippe, taking the two grooms with him, hastened off to the refreshment tents. And Nana’s court grew larger and larger; her triumph determined the laggards. The movement which had made her landau the central object ended in an apotheosis—Queen Venus surrounded by her delirious subjects. Behind her, Bordenave was muttering oaths with the tender feelings of a father. Steiner himself, reconquered, had left Simone, and was hanging on to one of the carriage steps. When the champagne arrived, when she raised her glass full of wine, the applause was so deafening—the cries of “Nana! Nana! Nana!” were so loud—that the amazed multitude looked around, expecting to see the filly; and one no longer knew whether it was the animal or the woman who most filled the men’s hearts.
Mignon hastened to her, in spite of Rose’s black looks. The confounded girl put him quite beside himself; he must embrace her. Then after he had kissed her on both cheeks, he said paternally,
“What bothers me is that Rose will now, for certain, send the letter. She’s in such a rage.”
“So much the better! That