Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [51]
“All the same she’s a fine woman,” declared Fauchery.
Vandeuvres seemed to unrobe her with a glance. “Yes, all the same,” said he. “But, you know, I have great doubts as to her thighs. She hasn’t any worth speaking of, I’ll bet!”
He stopped as Fauchery sharply nudged his elbow, and directed his attention to Estelle, who was seated on her stool in front of them. They had raised their voices without noticing her, and she had most likely overheard them. However, she remained upright and immovable, with her skinny neck of a girl growing too fast, and on which not the smallest hair had turned. So they moved away a few steps, and Vandeuvres expressed his opinion that the countess was a most virtuous woman.
At this moment, the ladies seated round the fire having raised their voices, Madame du Joncquoy was heard to say, “I have admitted that Count Bismarck may possess some wit. However, if you pretend he has genius—” They had once more returned to their first subject of conversation.
“What! Bismarck again!” murmured Fauchery. “Well, this time I will indeed be off.”
“Wait a minute” said Vandeuvres. “We must have a final ‘no’ from the count.”
Count Muffat was conversing with his father-in-law and a few serious-looking men. Vandeuvres took him to one side, and repeated the invitation more pressingly, saying that he himself was going to the supper. A man could go anywhere. No one would think of seeing harm where, at the most, there was only a little curiosity. The count listened to these arguments with downcast eyes and immovable features. Vandeuvres noticed that he seemed to hesitate, when the Marquis de Chouard joined them, with a look of interrogation on his face; and when the latter was made acquainted with the subject under discussion, when Fauchery invited him also, he glanced furtively at his son-in-law. There was a moment of silence and embarrassment; but they encouraged each other, and they would no doubt have ended by accepting, if Count Muffat had not noticed that M. Venot was watching him fixedly. The little old man no longer smiled, his face bore a cadaverous expression, his eyes were sharp and piercing like gimlets.
“No,” replied the count at once, in such a decided tone of voice that there was nothing more to be said.
Then the marquis declined more sternly still. He talked of morality. The upper classes ought to set an example. Fauchery smiled, and shook hands with Vandeuvres. He would not wait for him, but went off at once, as he had to look in at the office of his paper.
“At Nana’s at midnight, don’t forget.”
La Faloise was leaving also, and Steiner had just taken leave of the countess. Other men were following them, and the same words were whispered on all sides, each one repeating, “At Nana’s at midnight,” as he put on his overcoat in the anteroom. George, who was waiting for his mother, stood in the doorway, and gave them all the correct address—the third floor, the door on the left hand side. Before retiring, Fauchery gave one last look round. Vandeuvres had resumed his place in the midst of the ladies, and was jesting with Léonide de Chezelles. Count Muffat and the Marquis de Chouard were joining in the conversation, whilst worthy Madame Hugon was going to sleep with her eyes open. Behind the ladies’ petticoats, M. Venot, making himself scarce again, had recovered his smile, and in the big, solemn room the clock slowly struck midnight.
“What! what!” Madame du Joncquoy was exclaiming, “you think that Count Bismarck will declare