Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [65]
“Why,” said he, mistrustfully, “to send it to my relations, so as to compromise me.”
All this while Foucarmont was going in strongly for the liqueurs. He continued to sneer as he watched Labordette, who was drinking his coffee surrounded by the women, and he kept uttering a number of unconnected phrases, much in this style: “The son of a horse-dealer, others said the bastard offspring of a countess—no means, and yet always twenty-five louis in his pocket—the servant of all the girls of easy virtue—a fellow who never went to bed.”
“No, never! never!” he repeated, growing angry. “I can’t help it; I must really slap his face.”
He tossed off a glass of chartreuse. Chartreuse never upset him; not that much, said he, and he clacked his thumb-nail between his teeth. But all of a sudden, just as he was advancing towards Labordette, he turned ghastly pale, and fell all in a heap in front of the sideboard. He was dead drunk. Louise Violaine was in an awful way. She had said that it would end badly; now she would be the rest of the night nursing him. But Gaga reassured her. She examined the officer with the eye of an experienced woman, and declared that there was no cause for alarm. The gentleman would sleep like that for twelve or fifteen hours without the least accident; so they removed Foucarmont.
“Hallo! wherever has Nana got to?” asked Vandeuvres.
Yes, as a matter of fact, she had disappeared on leaving the supper table. They now began to think of her; every one made inquiries. Steiner suddenly became most anxious, questioned Vandeuvres with respect to the old gentleman, who had also disappeared; but the count calmed his fears. He had just seen the old gentleman off. He was a distinguished foreigner, whose name it was unnecessary to mention. He was very rich, and was satisfied with paying for the suppers. Then, every one again forgetting Nana, Vandeuvres noticed Daguenet’s head at the door, signalling to him to come; and in the bedroom, he found the mistress of the house seated quite rigid, with her lips all white, whilst Daguenet and George were standing watching her with looks of consternation.
“What’s the matter with you?” he asked, surprised.
She did not reply, nor did she even turn her head. He repeated his question.
“I don’t intend to be made a fool of in my own place!” she at length exclaimed. “That’s what’s the matter.”
Then she uttered everything that came readily to her tongue. Yes, yes, she wasn’t an idiot; she could see what it all meant. They had all made a fool of her during supper. They had said the most beastly things, just to show that they didn’t care a curse for her. A parcel of strumpets, who were not fit to clean her boots. She wouldn’t worry herself for them another time, just to be treated in that scurvy way afterwards! She didn’t know what it was kept her from kicking the whole dirty lot out of the place; and, her rage choking her, she sobbed aloud.
“Come, my girl, you’re drunk,” said Vandeuvres in a most affectionate manner. “You must be reasonable.”
No, she refused beforehand; she would remain there. “I may be drunk, it’s very possible; but I intend to be respected.”
For a quarter of an hour past, Daguenet and George had been vainly entreating her to return to the dining-room; but she was obstinate. Her guests might do what they liked; she had too great a contempt for them to return amongst them. Never, never! They might cut her up into pieces, but she would remain in her room.
“I ought to have expected it,” she resumed. “It’s that strumpet Rose who organised the plot; and it’s no doubt she who prevented that respectable lady I invited from coming.”
She was speaking of Madame Robert. Vandeuvres assured her, on his word of honour, that Madame Robert had of her own free will declined the invitation. He listened and discussed without laughing, used to such scenes, and knowing how to deal with women when they were in that state; but the moment he tried to take hold of Nana’s hands, to raise her from her chair and lead her away,