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Suddenly he sprang off the bed and stammered: "I am going there. I can't resist any longer." "Very well," said the old man, "I go with you." As they left the house two shadows were vanishing into the dark depths of a garden walk, for every evening now Fauchery and the Countess Sabine left Daguenet to help Estelle make tea.
Since his stay at Les Fondettes he had been allowing the madness to increase, for he was very clearly aware of his own powerlessness. He had, indeed, accepted the whole position the count's wild passion for Nana, Fauchery's presence, even Estelle's marriage with Daguenet. What did these things matter?
"By the by," she asked, "have you read Fauchery's article about me?" "Yes, 'The Golden Fly," replied Daguenet; "I didn't mention it to you as I was afraid of paining you." "Paining me why? His article's a very long one." She was flattered to think that the Figaro should concern itself about her person.
Georges was vexed with La Faloise for telling an anecdote. Certainly Nana had fubbed off on Muffat one of her old flames as son-in-law; only it was not true that she had been to bed with Daguenet as lately as yesterday. Foucarmont made bold to shrug his shoulders. Could anyone ever tell when Nana was in bed with anyone?
Ragingly she took off her dress, a very simple affair of white foulard, of so thin and supple a texture that it clung about her like a long shift. But she put it on again directly, for she could not find another to her taste, and with tears in her eyes declared that she was dressed like a ragpicker. Daguenet and Georges had to patch up the rent with pins, while Zoe once more arranged her hair.
The wheel of the victoria came near grazing her, but she did not step back. The two women had exchanged a deeply significant glance. It was, in fact, one of those momentary scrutinies which are at once complete and definite. As to the men, they behaved unexceptionably. Fauchery and Daguenet looked icy and recognized no one.
Mignon and Steiner were together in a lower box, sitting side by side with their arms leaning for support on the velvet balustrade. Blanche de Sivry seemed to be in sole possession of a stage box on the level of the stalls. But La Faloise examined Daguenet before anyone else, he being in occupation of a stall two rows in front of his own.
Little by little she interested herself in the annoyances of his home life, in his wife, in his daughter, in his love affairs and financial difficulties; she was very sensible, very fair and right-minded. On one occasion only did she let anger get the better of her, and that was when he confided to her that doubtless Daguenet was going to ask for his daughter Estelle in marriage.
Daguenet was at the piano or "chest of drawers," as Nana called it. She did not want a "thumper," for Mimi would play as many waltzes and polkas as the company desired. But the dance was languishing, and the ladies were chatting drowsily together in the corners of sofas. Suddenly, however, there was an outburst of noise.
Nana had stepped toward the little saloon where Muffat was waiting. "Well, good-by!" continued Daguenet. "Go and find your cuckold again." But she halted afresh. "Why d'you call him cuckold?" "Because he is a cuckold, by Jove!" She came and leaned against the wall again; she was profoundly interested. "Ah!" she said simply. "What, d'you mean to say you didn't know that?
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