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A lady had the flounce of her dress torn off; a man lost his hat. "Oh, you're asking me too many questions about it!" cried Bordenave, whom a score of men were besieging with their queries. "You're going to see her, and I'm off; they want me." He disappeared, enchanted at having fired his public.
Bordenave, Daguenet, Labordette, Prulliere and others, besides, had swollen the group, and now they were all listening to Fontan, who was explaining his plan for taking Berlin within a week. Meanwhile Maria Blond was touched as she stood by the bedside and murmured, as the others had done before her: "Poor pet! The last time I saw her was in the grotto at the Gaite."
The company had forgotten him, and he was having all the trouble in the world to raise himself out of his two armchairs, for he was howling amain and calling for that cat of a Simonne, who had slipped off with the rest. The women ran in to him, full of pity for his woes, and Bordenave appeared, supported, nay, almost carried, by Caroline, Clarisse, Tatan Nene and Maria Blond.
I never shall dare " she stammered in pretty, mock confusion, while rosy blushes crossed her neck and shoulders and smiles of embarrassment played about her lips. "Oh, don't apologize," cried Bordenave, "since these gentlemen approve of your good looks!"
"Barillot, why don't they begin?" "It's Monsieur Bosc that has disappeared," replied Barillot, who was acting as second stage manager. Then there arose a tempest, and everybody shouted for Bosc while Bordenave swore. "Always the same thing, by God! It's all very well ringing for 'em: they're always where they've no business to be. And then they grumble when they're kept till after four o'clock."
Even if the part were unassigned I should never give it her! There, is that plain? Do let me alone; I have no wish to ruin my play!" He lapsed into silent embarrassment. Bordenave, deeming himself DE TROP, went away, but the count remained with bowed head. He raised it with an effort and said in a breaking voice: "Supposing, my dear fellow, I were to ask this of you as a favor?"
But he got up again almost directly and, returning to the dressing table, seemed to gaze with vacant eyes into space, for he was thinking of a bouquet of tuberoses which had once faded in his bedroom and had nearly killed him in their death. When tuberoses are turning brown they have a human smell. "Make haste!" Bordenave whispered, putting his head in behind the curtain.
"By Jove! I should rather think I did!" Royamount's fat sides shook with laughter at the mere recollection of the funny story that he had promised to his friends, and throwing himself back in the great arm-chair, which he completely filled, that picker up of bits of pinchbeck, as they called him at the club, at last said: "It is perfectly true, Bordenave does not owe anyone a penny and can go through any street he likes and publish those famous memoirs of sheriff's officers, which he has been writing for the last ten years, when he did not dare to go out, and in which he carefully brought out the characters and peculiarities of all those generous distributors of stamped paper with whom he had had dealings, their tricks and wiles, their weaknesses, their jokes, their manner of performing their duties, sometimes with brutal rudeness and at others with cunning good nature, now embarrassed and almost ashamed of their work, and again ironically jovial, as well the artifices of their clerks to get a few crumbs from their employer's cake.
"If His Highness will be good enough to come this way," said Bordenave at the bottom of the stairs, and he pointed to the passage. Some chorus girls were still crowding along it. The prince began following Nana while Muffat and the marquis walked behind.
He gazed warmly at the little woman who did not care a button for His Highness, and she, on her part, laughed unblushingly. Bordenave, however, persuaded the prince to follow him. Muffat was beginning to perspire; he had taken his hat off.
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