Nana (Barnes & Noble Classics) - Emile Zola [84]
She was well inspired, for that idiot La Faloise was still waiting there, on the same chair, between the table and the stove! He had pretended to go off when Simone had spoken to him, and returned directly after. The room, too, was still full of gentlemen in evening dress, with light kid gloves, and looking submissive and patient. They were all waiting, gravely eyeing one another. On the table there only remained the dirty plates, Madame Bron having just distributed the last bouquets; a rose alone, fallen from one of them, was lying half faded, close to the old cat, who had curled herself up and gone to sleep, whilst the kittens were madly careering between the gentlemen’s legs. For a moment Clarisse thought of having La Faloise turned out. The fool didn’t like animals; that showed what sort of a person he was. He kept his arms close to his sides for fear of touching the old cat, asleep on the table by him.
“Take care! he’ll catch you,” said Pluto, a funny fellow, as he went upstairs wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
Then Clarisse gave up the idea of having a row with La Faloise. She had seen Madame Bron hand Simone’s letter to the young man, who went and read it under the gas-jet in the passage: “Not to-night, ducky; I’m engaged”; and, no doubt used to the phrase, he quietly went off. He, at least, knew how to behave! He wasn’t like the others, who obstinately sat waiting there on Madame Bron’s old worn-out cane chairs, in that lantern-like glass box, which was as hot as an oven, and which didn’t smell particularly nice. What dirty beasts men were! Clarisse returned upstairs, thoroughly disgusted. She passed at the back of the stage, and ran up the three flights of stairs leading to her dressing-room to let Simone know that the young man had gone off. At the wings, the prince had drawn Nana on one side and was conversing with her. He had remained with her all the time, glancing tenderly at her with his half closed eyes. Nana, without looking at him, smilingly said “yes,” with a nod of her head. But suddenly Count Muffat obeyed an invincible feeling within him. He quitted Bordenave, who was giving him some information respecting the manoeuvring of the windlasses and the drums, and advanced to interrupt their conversation. Nana raised her eyes and smiled at him, the same as she smiled at His Highness. She was, however, listening all the while for her cue.
“The third act is the shortest, I think,” said the prince, whom the count’s presence embarrassed.
She did not answer. Her face changed in a moment, and she was entirely occupied with her business. She rapidly let the fur cloak slip from off her shoulders, and Madame Jules, standing behind her, received it in her arms; and, after passing her hands over her hair as though to smooth it, she advanced on the stage in an almost nude state.
“Hush! hush!” whispered Bordenave.
The count and the prince remained lost in surprise. In the midst of the silence there arose a profound sigh, the distant murmur of a vast crowd. Every night the same effect was produced as Venus appeared in her goddess-like nudity. Then Muffat, wishing to see, looked through a hole in the scenery. Beyond the dazzling semi-circle formed by the foot-lights, the house wore a sombre look, as though