Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [60]
“Ah! Bismarck,” interrupted Simone. “I used to know him. He is a charming fellow.”
“That’s just what I was saying yesterday,” exclaimed Vandeuvres, “and no one would believe me.”
And just the same as at Countess Sabine’s, they talked for a long while about Count Bismarck. Vandeuvres repeated the same phrases he had used before. For a moment one seemed to be again in the Muffats’ drawing-room; the women, only, were changed. In just the same way, too, the conversation turned on music. Then, Foucarmont having dropped a word about the taking of the veil which all Paris was talking of, Nana became interested and insisted on hearing all about Mademoiselle de Fougeray. Oh! poor little thing, to go and bury herself alive in that way! However, it was her own wish! The women round the table were all deeply affected. George, tired of hearing the same things over again, was questioning Daguenet respecting Nana’s private habits, when the conversation fatally returned to Count Bismarck. Tatan Néné, leaning towards Labordette and whispering in his ear, asked him who was that Bismarck, whom she had never heard of. Then, Labordette coolly told her some of the most awful lies imaginable: Bismarck fed on raw meat; whenever he encountered a woman near his stronghold, he carried her off on his back; though only forty years old, he had already had thirty-two children.
“Only forty years old, and thirty-two children!” exclaimed Tatan Néné, quite astounded, but convinced. “He must be awfully worn out for his age.” Then as every one burst into a laugh, she saw it was at her, so she hastened to add: “How stupid you are! How am I to know when you are only joking?”
Gaga, however, had continued talking of the Exhibition. Like all the other ladies, she was rejoicing and making her preparations. It would be a good season, with all the provincials and the foreigners rushing to Paris. Then, perhaps, after the Exhibition, if everything went well, she could retire to Juvisy, to a little house she had had her eye upon for a long time.
“What would you?” said she to La Faloise, “one never has any prospects. If one were only loved!”
Gaga was going in for a little tenderness, because she had felt the young man’s knee touch her own. He was very red in the face. She, lisping all the while, weighed him with a glance. A little gentleman, not very wealthy; but, then, she was no longer hard to please. La Faloise obtained her address.
“Look,” murmured Vandeuvres to Clarisse, “I fancy that Gaga is robbing you of your Hector.”
“Oh! I don’t care a fig!” replied the actress. “The fellow’s a fool. I have already turned him out of my place three times. But, you know, when youngsters go in for the old ones, it disgusts me.”
She interrupted herself to draw his attention, with a slight nod, to Blanche, who, ever since the early part of the supper, had been leaning in a very uncomfortable position, looking very proud, but wishing to display her shoulders to the distinguished old gentleman, who was seated only three places from her.
“You are being abandoned also, my boy,” resumed Clarisse.
Vandeuvres smiled shrewdly, with a gesture of indifference. He, certainly, wouldn’t stand in the way of poor Blanche making a conquest. He was far more interested in the exhibition Steiner was making of himself. The banker was well known for his numerous love affairs. The terrible German Jew, the great hatcher of businesses whose hands founded millions, became