Nana by Émile Zola (top 100 novels of all time .txt) 📕

what will you give me?”

 

He had caught her in his arms and was kissing her on the shoulders

in a perfect access of gratitude while she quivered with excitement

and struggled merrily and threw herself backward in her efforts to

be free.

 

“Oh, I know,” she cried, excited by the contest. “Listen to what I

want in the way of commission. On your wedding day you shall make

me a present of your innocence. Before your wife, d’you

understand?”

 

“That’s it! That’s it!” he said, laughing even louder than Nana.

 

The bargain amused them—they thought the whole business very good,

indeed.

 

Now as it happened, there was a dinner at Nana’s next day. For the

matter of that, it was the customary Thursday dinner, and Muffat,

Vandeuvres, the young Hugons and Satin were present. The count

arrived early. He stood in need of eighty thousand francs wherewith

to free the young woman from two or three debts and to give her a

set of sapphires she was dying to possess. As he had already

seriously lessened his capital, he was in search of a lender, for he

did not dare to sell another property. With the advice of Nana

herself he had addressed himself to Labordette, but the latter,

deeming it too heavy an undertaking, had mentioned it to the

hairdresser Francis, who willingly busied himself in such affairs in

order to oblige his lady clients. The count put himself into the

hands of these gentlemen but expressed a formal desire not to appear

in the matter, and they both undertook to keep in hand the bill for

a hundred thousand francs which he was to sign, excusing themselves

at the same time for charging a matter of twenty thousand francs

interest and loudly denouncing the blackguard usurers to whom, they

declared, it had been necessary to have recourse. When Muffat had

himself announced, Francis was putting the last touches to Nana’s

coiffure. Labordette also was sitting familiarly in the dressing

room, as became a friend of no consequence. Seeing the count, he

discreetly placed a thick bundle of bank notes among the powders and

pomades, and the bill was signed on the marble-topped dressing

table. Nana was anxious to keep Labordette to dinner, but he

declined—he was taking a rich foreigner about Paris. Muffat,

however, led him aside and begged him to go to Becker, the jeweler,

and bring him back thence the set of sapphires, which he wanted to

present the young woman by way of surprise that very evening.

Labordette willingly undertook the commission, and half an hour

later Julien handed the jewel case mysteriously to the count.

 

During dinnertime Nana was nervous. The sight of the eighty

thousand francs had excited her. To think all that money was to go

to tradespeople! It was a disgusting thought. After soup had been

served she grew sentimental, and in the splendid dining room,

glittering with plate and glass, she talked of the bliss of poverty.

The men were in evening dress, Nana in a gown of white embroidered

satin, while Satin made a more modest appearance in black silk with

a simple gold heart at her throat, which was a present from her kind

friend. Julien and Francois waited behind the guests and were

assisted in this by Zoe. All three looked most dignified.

 

“It’s certain I had far greater fun when I hadn’t a cent!” Nana

repeated.

 

She had placed Muffat on her right hand and Vandeuvres on her left,

but she scarcely looked at them, so taken up was she with Satin, who

sat in state between Philippe and Georges on the opposite side of

the table.

 

“Eh, duckie?” she kept saying at every turn. “How we did use to

laugh in those days when we went to Mother Josse’s school in the Rue

Polonceau!”

 

When the roast was being served the two women plunged into a world

of reminiscences. They used to have regular chattering fits of this

kind when a sudden desire to stir the muddy depths of their

childhood would possess them. These fits always occurred when men

were present: it was as though they had given way to a burning

desire to treat them to the dunghill on which they had grown to

woman’s estate. The gentlemen paled visibly and looked embarrassed.

The young Hugons did their best to laugh, while Vandeuvres nervously

toyed with his beard and Muffat redoubled his gravity.

 

“You remember Victor?” said Nana. “There was a wicked little fellow

for you! Why, he used to take the little girls into cellars!”

 

“I remember him perfectly,” replied Satin. “I recollect the big

courtyard at your place very well. There was a portress there with

a broom!”

 

“Mother Boche—she’s dead.”

 

“And I can still picture your shop. Your mother was a great fatty.

One evening when we were playing your father came in drunk. Oh, so

drunk!”

 

At this point Vandeuvres tried to intercept the ladies’

reminiscences and to effect a diversion,

 

“I say, my dear, I should be very glad to have some more truffles.

They’re simply perfect. Yesterday I had some at the house of the

Duc de Corbreuse, which did not come up to them at all.”

 

“The truffles, Julien!” said Nana roughly.

 

Then returning to the subject:

 

“By Jove, yes, Dad hadn’t any sense! And then what a smash there

was! You should have seen it—down, down, down we went, starving

away all the time. I can tell you I’ve had to bear pretty well

everything and it’s a miracle I didn’t kick the bucket over it, like

Daddy and Mamma.”

 

This time Muffat, who was playing with his knife in a state of

infinite exasperation, made so bold as to intervene.

 

“What you’re telling us isn’t very cheerful.”

 

“Eh, what? Not cheerful!” she cried with a withering glance. “I

believe you; it isn’t cheerful! Somebody had to earn a living for

us dear boy. Oh yes, you know, I’m the right sort; I don’t mince

matters. Mamma was a laundress; Daddy used to get drunk, and he

died of it! There! If it doesn’t suit you—if you’re ashamed of my

family—”

 

They all protested. What was she after now? They had every sort of

respect for her family! But she went on:

 

“If you’re ashamed of my family you’ll please leave me, because I’m

not one of those women who deny their father and mother. You must

take me and them together, d’you understand?”

 

They took her as required; they accepted the dad, the mamma, the

past; in fact, whatever she chose. With their eyes fixed on the

tablecloth, the four now sat shrinking and insignificant while Nana,

in a transport of omnipotence, trampled on them in the old muddy

boots worn long since in the Rue de la Goutted’Or. She was

determined not to lay down the cudgels just yet. It was all very

fine to bring her fortunes, to build her palaces; she would never

leave off regretting the time when she munched apples! Oh, what

bosh that stupid thing money was! It was made for the tradespeople!

Finally her outburst ended in a sentimentally expressed desire for a

simple, openhearted existence, to be passed in an atmosphere of

universal benevolence.

 

When she got to this point she noticed Julien waiting idly by.

 

“Well, what’s the matter? Hand the champagne then!” she said. “Why

d’you stand staring at me like a goose?”

 

During this scene the servants had never once smiled. They

apparently heard nothing, and the more their mistress let herself

down, the more majestic they became. Julien set to work to pour out

the champagne and did so without mishap, but Francois, who was

handing round the fruit, was so unfortunate as to tilt the fruit

dish too low, and the apples, the pears and the grapes rolled on the

table.

 

“You bloody clumsy lot!” cried Nana.

 

The footman was mistaken enough to try and explain that the fruit

had not been firmly piled up. Zoe had disarranged it by taking out

some oranges.

 

“Then it’s Zoe that’s the goose!” said Nana.

 

“Madame—” murmured the lady’s maid in an injured tone.

 

Straightway Madame rose to her feet, and in a sharp voice and with

royally authoritative gesture:

 

“We’ve had enough of this, haven’t we? Leave the room, all of you!

We don’t want you any longer!”

 

This summary procedure calmed her down, and she was forthwith all

sweetness and amiability. The dessert proved charming, and the

gentlemen grew quite merry waiting on themselves. But Satin, having

peeled a pear, came and ate it behind her darling, leaning on her

shoulder the while and whispering sundry little remarks in her ear,

at which they both laughed very loudly. By and by she wanted to

share her last piece of pear with Nana and presented it to her

between her teeth. Whereupon there was a great nibbling of lips,

and the pear was finished amid kisses. At this there was a burst of

comic protest from the gentlemen, Philippe shouting to them to take

it easy and Vandeuvres asking if one ought to leave the room.

Georges, meanwhile, had come and put his arm round Satin’s waist and

had brought her back to her seat.

 

“How silly of you!” said Nana. “You’re making her blush, the poor,

darling duck. Never mind, dear girl, let them chaff. It’s our own

little private affair.”

 

And turning to Muffat, who was watching them with his serious

expression:

 

“Isn’t it, my friend?”

 

“Yes, certainly,” he murmured with a slow nod of approval.

 

He no longer protested now. And so amid that company of gentlemen

with the great names and the old, upright traditions, the two women

sat face to face, exchanging tender glances, conquering, reigning,

in tranquil defiance of the laws of sex, in open contempt for the

male portion of the community. The gentlemen burst into applause.

 

The company went upstairs to take coffee in the little drawing room,

where a couple of lamps cast a soft glow over the rosy hangings and

the lacquer and old gold of the knickknacks. At that hour of the

evening the light played discreetly over coffers, bronzes and china,

lighting up silver or ivory inlaid work, bringing into view the

polished contours of a carved stick and gleaming over a panel with

glossy silky reflections. The fire, which had been burning since

the afternoon, was dying out in glowing embers. It was very warm—

the air behind the curtains and hangings was languid with warmth.

The room was full of Nana’s intimate existence: a pair of gloves, a

fallen handkerchief, an open book, lay scattered about, and their

owner seemed present in careless attire with that well-known odor of

violets and that species of untidiness which became her in her

character of good-natured courtesan and had such a charming effect

among all those rich surroundings. The very armchairs, which were

as wide as beds, and the sofas, which were as deep as alcoves,

invited to slumber oblivious of the flight of time and to tender

whispers in shadowy corners.

 

Satin went and lolled back in the depths of a sofa near the

fireplace. She had lit a cigarette, but Vandeuvres began amusing

himself by pretending to be ferociously jealous. Nay, he even

threatened to send her his seconds if she still persisted in keeping

Nana from her duty. Philippe and Georges joined him and teased her

and badgered her so mercilessly that at last she shouted out:

 

“Darling! Darling! Do make ‘em keep quiet! They’re still after

me!”

 

“Now then, let her be,” said Nana seriously. “I won’t have her

tormented; you know that quite well. And you, my pet, why d’you

always go