Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [231]
One July evening towards eight o’clock, Lucy, who was driving down the Rue du Faubourg-Saint-Honoré, caught sight of Caroline Héquet, who had gone out on foot to give an order to a tradesman of the neighbourhood. She called to her, and at once said,
“Have you dined? are you free? Oh, then, my dear! come with me. Nana has returned!”
The other, on hearing this, at once got into the carriage, and Lucy continued,
“And you know, my dear, she is perhaps dead whilst we are talking.”
“Dead! what an idea!” cried Caroline in amazement. “And where? and of what?”
“At the Grand Hotel, of the small-pox—oh! quite a story!”
Lucy had told her coachman to drive quick. So, as the horses rapidly trotted along the Rue Royale and the Boulevards, she related the story of Nana’s adventure, in broken sentences, and without once taking breath.
“You can’t imagine. Nana arrives from Russia, I forget why—a row with her prince. She leaves her luggage at the station and goes off to her aunt. You recollect that old woman? Good! She finds her baby ill with the small-pox. The baby dies on the morrow, and she has a row with the aunt about the money she ought to have sent, and which the other had never seen a sou of. It seems the child died of that—in short, the child was not well fed or looked after. Very well, Nana goes off, puts up at a hotel, then meets Mignon, just as she was thinking of fetching her luggage. She becomes very peculiar, she has the shivers, wants to be sick, and Mignon takes her to her room, promising to look after her affairs. Eh! isn’t it funny, isn’t it strange? But here’s the best part. Rose hears of Nana’s illness, is indignant at learning that she’s all alone in an out-of-the-way place, and weepingly hastens to nurse her. You recollect how they detested each other? a couple of furies! Well! my dear, Rose had Nana removed to the Grand Hotel, so that she might at least die in a swell place; and she’s already passed three nights with her, and may very likely die of it afterwards. It’s Labordette who told me all this, so I wanted to see—”
“Yes, yes,” interrupted Caroline, greatly excited. “We will go.”
They had arrived. On the Boulevard the coachman had been obliged to pull up in the midst of a block of vehicles and foot passengers. During the day the Corps Législatif had voted for a declaration of war.5 A crowd poured down from all the side streets and covered the footpaths and the roadway. At the Madeleine end the sun had set behind a blood-red cloud, the fiery reflection of which illuminated the tall windows. Twilight was coming on, a dull and melancholy hour, with the darkening avenues, which the gas-lamps had not yet lit up with their bright specks. And amongst this mass of people on the march distant voices became louder, pale faces sparkled with animated glances, whilst a deep breath of anguish and of spreading stupor turned all heads.
“There’s Mignon,” said Lucy. “He will give us some news.”
Mignon was standing under the vast portico of the Grand Hotel, with a nervous air about him as he watched the crowd. At the first questions Lucy put to him, he flew into a passion, exclaiming,
“I don’t know! For the last two days I’ve not been able to get Rose away from up there. It’s idiotic for her to risk her skin like that! She’ll look nice, if she catches it, with scars all over her face! It will suit us nicely.”
The idea that Rose might lose her beauty exasperated him. He would leave Nana just as she was, not understanding those silly devotions which women went in for. But here Fauchery crossed the Boulevard, and when he had joined the others, he also anxiously asked for news, and then the two men tried to incite each other to go up. They were most affectionate to one another now.
“Always the same, little ’un,” observed Mignon. “You ought to go up and force her to come away.”
“Really! You’re kind, you are!” said the journalist. “Why don’t you go up yourself?”
Then, as Lucy inquired