Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [57]
“Yes, yes; it’s quite true,” declared Mignon.
All these gentlemen seated round the table looked very stylish in their dress suits, and with their pale faces, which their fast way of living rendered all the more refined. The old gentleman was very deliberate in his movements, and smiled serenely, as though he were presiding at a congress of diplomatists. Vandeuvres was so exquisitely polite to the ladies on either side of him, that one might have thought him at Countess Muffat’s. That very morning Nana had said to her aunt that one could not hope for better sort of men, all noble or else rich—in fact, men who were quite the fashion; and as for the ladies, they behaved themselves very well. A few—Blanche, Léa, Louise—had come with low-neck dresses. Gaga alone displayed more, perhaps, than she ought, especially as at her age she had far better have shown nothing at all. Now that they had all managed to seat themselves, the laughter and chaffing ceased. George could not help thinking that he had assisted at much livelier meals at the houses of the middle-class citizens of Orleans. There was hardly any conversation. The men, not knowing one another, merely stared, and the women kept very quiet. That was what most astonished George. He thought them very slow—he had expected that there would have been a great deal of kissing at once.
They were serving the next course, consisting of Rhine carp and venison cooked in the English style, when Blanche said, out loud, “Lucy, my dear, I met your Ollivier on Sunday. How tall he has grown!”
“Well, you know! he is eighteen years old,” replied Lucy. “It doesn’t make me look any the younger. He went back to school yesterday.”
Her son Ollivier, of whom she spoke with pride, was a student at the naval school. Then they started talking of the children. All the ladies became very tender-hearted. Nana told them how happy she was; her baby, her little Louis, was now at her aunt‘s, who brought him to see her every morning at eleven o’clock, and she took him into bed with her, where he played with Lulu, her terrier. It would make you laugh to see them get under the clothes right down to the bottom of the bed. No one had any idea how sharp little Louis had already become.
“Oh! yesterday, I had such a day of it!” related Rose Mignon in her turn. “Only fancy, I went and fetched Charles and Henri from their school, and in the evening they insisted on going to the theatre. They jumped for joy and clapped their little hands: ‘We shall see mamma act! we shall see mamma act!’ Oh! they were quite delighted!”
Mignon smiled complacently, his eyes wet with tears of paternal love. “And during the performance,” he continued, “they were so funny, looking as serious as men, devouring Rose with their eyes, and asking me why their mamma hadn’t any clothes on her legs.”
Every one round the table burst out laughing. Mignon triumphed, flattered in his paternal pride. He adored the little ones, his only anxiety was to increase their fortune by administering, with all the skill of a faithful steward, the money which Rose earned at the theatre and elsewhere. At the time they married, when he was leader of the band at the music-hall where she was engaged to sing, they loved each other passionately. Now they remained merely good friends. It was all arranged between them. She worked as hard as she could, with all her talent and with all her beauty; he had given up his violin the better to watch over her successes as an actress and a woman. One could never have found a more comfortable or united couple.
“How old is the eldest?” asked Vandeuvres.
“Henri is nine years old,” replied Mignon. “Oh! but he’s so strong! ”
Then he chaffed Steiner, who did not care for children, and told him with quiet audacity that if he were a father he would not squander his fortune so stupidly. Whilst talking, he kept eyeing the banker across Blanche’s shoulders, to see how he was getting on with Nana. But, for some