Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [23]
“I must go and pay my respects to Countess Muffat,” said La Faloise.
“Very well,” replied Fauchery; “and you can introduce me. We can go outside afterwards.”
But it was not such an easy matter to reach the balcony boxes, as the crowd in the passages was almost impenetrable. To pass through the different groups, it was necessary to use one’s elbows rather freely. Leaning against the wall, beneath a brass gas-bracket, the stout critic was giving his opinion of the piece to an attentive circle. People, as they passed, lingered and told their friends in a low voice who he was. It was rumoured that he had laughed during the whole act; however, he now showed himself very severe, and talked of good taste and morality. Farther on, the critic with the thin lips was most favourable, but his remarks had an unpleasant after-taste, like milk turned sour. Fauchery searched the different boxes with a glance through the small round windows in the doors. But the Count de Vandeuvres stopped him to ask him some questions. When he learnt that the two cousins intended paying their respects to the Muffats, he directed them to their box, No. 7, which he had just left. Then he whispered in the journalist’s ear:
“I say, old fellow, this Nana is surely the girl we met one night at the corner of the Rue de Provence.”
“Why, of course! you are right,” exclaimed Fauchery. “I was sure I had met her somewhere!”
La Faloise introduced his cousin to Count Muffat de Beuville, whose manner was cool in the extreme. But on hearing Fauchery’s name, the countess looked up quickly and complimented him on his articles in the “Figaro” in a well-turned phrase. Leaning against the velvet-covered balustrade, she half turned towards him with a graceful movement of her shoulders. They talked for a few minutes, and the conversation fell upon the Exhibition.
“It will certainly be very fine,” said the count, whose square face and regular features preserved a certain official gravity. “I visited the Champ de Marsm to-day and I returned filled with wonder. ”
“I am told, however, that it will not be ready in time,” observed La Faloise. “Something has gone wrong—”
“It will be ready! The emperor insists upon it!” interrupted the count in his stern voice.
Fauchery told gaily how he had been almost lost in the aquarium, during its building one day when he had gone there in search of materials for an article. The countess smiled. She looked from time to time about the house, raising an arm with its long white glove reaching to the elbow, and fanning herself slowly. The seats were now mostly unoccupied; a few gentlemen who had remained in the stalls were reading the evening papers; and several women were receiving their friends much as if they were at home. There was now no sound above a well-bred whisper beneath the crystal gasalier, the brightness of which was dimmed by the fine dust raised by the stir at the end of the act. About the doors, some men lingered to inspect the few women who remained seated; and for a minute they stood quite motionless, stretching their necks, and displaying their white shirt fronts.
“We shall expect to see you next Tuesday,” said the countess to La Faloise.
And she extended her invitation to Fauchery, who thanked her with a low bow. The play was not alluded to, nor was the name of Nana pronounced. The count’s manner was so icy and dignified, that one might have supposed him to be at a meeting of the Corps Législatif.n He took occasion to say, as if to explain their presence, that his father-in-law had an especial fondness for the theatre. The door of the box had remained open, and the Marquis de Chouard, who had gone out to leave room for the visitors, now stood tall and erect in the doorway, his pale, flabby face shaded by his broad-brimmed hat, as he followed with his dim eyes the women who passed. As soon as the countess had given her invitation, Fauchery retired, feeling that under the circumstances it would not be in good taste to discuss the play. La Faloise left the box the last. He had just noticed in Count