Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [37]
“Poor people!” cried Nana deeply affected.
Her pity was so great that tears filled her beautiful eyes. In an impulsive moment she leant forward, forgetting any longer to study her movements, and her open dressing-gown displayed all her neck, whilst her bended knees indicated, beneath the flimsy material, the roundness of her form. A slight tinge of colour illumined the ghastly pallor of the marquis’s cheeks, and Count Muffat, who was on the point of speaking, lowered his eyes. It was decidedly too warm in that small room, it was heavy and close like a hot-house. The roses were drooping, and the smell of the patchouli in the cup was intoxicating.
“One would like to be very rich on such occasions,” added Nana. “However one does what one can. Believe me, gentlemen, had I only known—”
She was on the point of saying something foolish under the influence of her emotion; but she recovered herself, and left the phrase unfinished. For a moment she remained perplexed, not recollecting where she had put the fifty francs when she took her dress off; but at length she recollected, they must be on a corner of her dressing-table under a pomatum-pot turned upside down. As she rose from her seat the bell sounded again, violently this time. Good! another one! Would it never cease? The count and the marquis had also risen, and the ears of the latter seemed to turn in the direction of the door; no doubt he knew what the frequent rings at the bell meant. Muffat glanced at him; then each looked on the ground; no doubt they were in each other’s way. But they soon regained their composure, the one looking proud and strong, his head well covered with his dark brown hair, the other straightening his bony shoulders, over which fell his meagre crown of rare white hairs.
“Really, gentlemen,” said Nana, laughing, as she brought the ten big silver coins, “I’m afraid I shall burden you. Remember it is for the poor.”
And an adorable little dimple appeared in her chin. She had assumed her “hail fellow well met” air, and stood in an easy posture, holding out her hand full of silver—offering it to the two men, as though saying, “Come, who’ll take?” The count was the more active, he took the money; but one coin remained in the young woman’s hand, and, to remove it, his fingers were obliged to come in contact with her skin—a skin so warm and soft that touching it sent a thrill through his frame. Nana, greatly amused, continued laughing.
“There, gentlemen,” she resumed. “Next time I hope to give more.”
Having no pretext for remaining longer, they bowed and moved towards the door. But, as they were about to leave the room, the bell sounded again. The marquis could not repress a faint smile, whilst a shadow passed over the count’s grave face. Nana detained them a few seconds, to allow Zoé time to find some out-of-the-way corner for the new comer. She did not like people to meet one another when calling on her. This time, the place must be quite full. She was agreeably surprised, however, to find the drawing-room empty. Had Zoé, then, put them into the cupboards?
“Good-day, gentlemen,” she said, as she stood in the open doorway.
She enveloped them in her smile and her clear glance. Count Muffat bowed low, disconcerted in spite of his great experience of the world, longing for a breath of fresh air, dizzy from his contact with that room, and carrying away with him an odour of woman and flowers which nearly stifled him. And, behind him, the Marquis de Chouard, certain of not being observed, dared to wink at Nana, his face, for the moment, all distorted, and his tongue between his lips. When the young woman re-entered the dressing-room, where Zoé awaited her with some letters and visiting-cards, she laughed louder than ever, and exclaimed:
“Well, there go a couple of sharks! They wheedled my fifty francs out of me!”
But she was not annoyed; it amused her to think that men should ask her for money. All the same, they were a couple of pigs; she hadn