Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [68]
Nobody knew what to be at to infuse some gaiety into the proceedings, to finish the night in a sufficiently wild manner. For an instant Labordette had the idea of secretly denouncing the women to La Faloise, who kept prowling round each to see if she hadn’t his handkerchief stowed away in her bosom. However as some bottles of champagne remained on the side-board, the young men started drinking again. They called to each other, they tried to excite one another; but an invincibly mournful drunkenness, of a stupidity to make one weep, overcame them all. Then the little fair-haired fellow, he who bore one of the greatest names of France, quite at a loss what to do, in despair at not being able to think of something funny, had a sudden idea; he took up a bottle of champagne and emptied the contents into the piano. All the others writhed with laughter.
“Hallo!” said Tatan Néné, who had watched him with astonishment, “why does he pour champagne into the piano?”
“What! my girl, don’t you know that?” replied Labordette, seriously. “There is nothing so good as champagne for pianos. It improves the tone.”
“Ah! really,” murmured Tatan Néné, thoroughly convinced.
And as every one laughed, she got into a temper. How was she to know? They were always telling her wrong. Things were decidedly going from bad to worse. The night seemed likely to end in an unpleasant kind of manner. In a corner of the room, Maria Blond was having a row with Léa de Horn, whom she accused of receiving men who were not sufficiently rich; and they had come to oaths, as they abused each other’s looks. Lucy, who was ugly, quieted them. Looks were nothing; the thing was to have a good figure. Farther off, on a sofa, an attaché to an embassy had passed his arm round Simone’s waist, and was trying to kiss her on the neck; but Simone, quite tired out, and very sulky, pushed him away each time, saying, “Don’t bother me!” and hitting him on the head with her fan. Besides, the other women would not allow anybody to touch them. Who did they take them for? Gaga, however, who had caught hold of La Faloise, kept him by her, almost on her knees; whilst Clarisse, shaking with the nervous laugh of a woman being tickled, was disappearing between two gentlemen. Around the piano the little game continued, in a fit of stupidity. There was a good deal of pushing; each one wanted to empty his bottle into it. It was simple and neat.
“Here! old fellow, take a drink. The devil! isn’t he thirsty, the poor piano! Look out there! here’s another; we mustn’t lose a drop. ”
Nana, who had her back turned towards them, did not see what they were after. She had evidently made up her mind to do the best she could with stout old Steiner, who was seated beside her. So much the worse! It was all that Muffat’s fault, for he had not been willing. In her dress of soft white silk, light and crumpled like a chemise, with her touch of intoxication, which had taken the colour from her face and made her eyes look heavy, she seemed to be offering herself in a quiet, good-natured sort of way. The roses she had placed in her dress and hair were now all withered, and only the stalks remained. Suddenly Steiner withdrew his hand from off her dress, where he had just encountered the pins placed by George. A few drops of blood issued from his fingers. One fell on the dress and stained it.
“Now it is signed,” said Nana seriously.
The day had dawned. An awfully sad and dubious sort of light entered by the windows. Then the breaking-up began—a leave-taking full of uneasiness and ill-nature. Caroline Héquet, annoyed at having wasted her night, said it was time for those to go who did not wish to assist at some very strange things. Rose made a face like that of a respectable woman who had been compromised. It was always the same with those hussies. They never knew how to behave themselves; they were always most disgusting from the first. And Mignon having quite stumped Vandeuvres, the couple went off, without troubling themselves