Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [48]
“Let’s see,” murmured Vandeuvres, leading Fauchery into the middle of the room, “we must, somehow or other, discover a new woman for to-morrow. Suppose we ask Steiner?”
“Oh! Steiner,” said the journalist, “never gets hold of a woman until all Paris has had enough of her.”
Vandeuvres, however, looked about him. “Wait,” he resumed, “I met Foucarmont with some fair charmer the other day. I will go and ask him to bring her.”
And he beckoned to Foucarmont. They rapidly exchanged a few words; but there seemed to be some difficulty, for they both cautiously picked their way over the ladies’ skirts and joined another young man, with whom they continued their conference in the recess of a window. Fauchery, left alone, decided to join the group by the fire just as Madame du Joncquoy was stating that she could never hear Weber’s music without at once seeming to see lakes, forests, and the sun rising over landscapes bathed in dew; but a hand touched his shoulder, whilst a voice said behind him,
“It’s not at all kind of you.”
“What isn’t?” he asked, turning round and recognising La Faloise.
“That supper, to-morrow night—you might at least have got me invited.”
Fauchery was just about to reply, when Vandeuvres returned and said to him, “It seems the girl has nothing to do with Foucarmont, she belongs to that other gentleman over there. She won’t be able to come. What a bore! But, all the same, I’ve hooked Foucarmont. He will try and bring Louise of the Palais-Royal Theatre.”
“M. de Vandeuvres,” asked Madame Chantereau, raising her voice, “is it not true that Wagner’s music was hissed on Sunday?”
“Oh! atrociously, madame,” he replied, advancing with his exquisite politeness. Then, as the ladies did not detain him, he moved away and continued in an undertone in the journalist’s ear, “I shall go and hook some more. All these young fellows must know some little women.”
Then he was seen, pleasantly smiling the while, to go up to the different men and talk with them in all parts of the room. He mingled with the various groups, dropped a few words here and there, and then withdrew, winking his eyes and making other signs. It was as though he was, in his easy way, giving out a watchword. His words were passed from one to another, and appointments were made; whilst the ladies’ sentimental dissertations on music drowned the agitated buzz caused by all these alluring attempts.
“No, don’t mention your Germans,” repeated Madame Chantereau. “Song is gaiety, is light. Have you heard Pattiac in ’ll Barbiere’?”ad
“Delicious!” murmured Léonide, who could only strum opera-bouffe airs on her piano.
Countess Sabine now rang for tea, which was served in the drawing-room when the visitors on a Tuesday were not numerous. Whilst having a small table cleared by a footman, the countess followed Count de Vandeuvres with her eyes. She preserved that vague smile which showed a little the whiteness of her teeth; and, as the count passed near her, she questioned him.
“Whatever are you plotting, M. de Vandeuvres?”
“I, madame?” he calmly replied, “I am not plotting anything.”
“Ah! You seemed to be so very busy. See, you must make yourself useful.”
She placed an album in his hands and asked him to put it on the piano. But he found means of informing Fauchery on the quiet that Tatan Néné, who had the best neck and shoulders of the season, would be there, and also Maria Blond, who had just made her first appearance at the Folies-Dramatiques Theatre. La Faloise, however, kept stopping him at almost every step, expecting an invitation. He ended by offering himself. Vandeuvres engaged him at once; only, he made him promise to bring Clarisse, and as La Faloise affected