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Updated: June 16, 2025
She was bringing with her Caroline Hequet and her mother Caroline a woman of a cold type of beauty, the mother a person of a most worthy demeanor, who looked as if she were stuffed with straw. "You're coming with us? I've kept a place for you," she said to Fauchery. "Oh, decidedly not! To see nothing!" he made answer. "I've a stall; I prefer being in the stalls." Lucy grew nettled.
Then as Fauchery began questioning him he consented to enter into a detailed explanation, couched in phraseology so crude that Hector de la Faloise felt slightly disgusted. He had been thick with Nana, and he was anxious to start her on the stage. Well, just about that time he was in search of a Venus.
He had slipped down low in his armchair and was listening with an air of fatigue. Fauchery was nervous and kept shifting about in his seat. Every few minutes he itched with the desire to interrupt, but he restrained himself. He heard a whispering in the dark and empty house behind him. "Is she there?" he asked, leaning over toward Bordenave. The latter nodded affirmatively.
The old lady rendered equal thanks to Daguenet and Fauchery for having been so good as to accept her son's invitation, and then to her great and joyful surprise she saw the Marquis de Chouard enter the room. A third carriage had brought him. "Dear me, you've made this your trysting place today!" she cried. "You've passed word round! But what's happening?
"We're squashed all the same! Ah, my kittens, Papa recommends himself to your tender care!" He had Rose Mignon on his right and Lucy Stewart on his left hand, and they promised to take good care of him. Everybody was now getting settled. Count de Vandeuvres placed himself between Lucy and Clarisse; Fauchery between Rose Mignon and Caroline Hequet.
The scene interested her for a moment or two, but truly, it was not worth while getting the spleen because they didn't admit you inside here. Daguenet and Fauchery passed by and bowed to her. She made them a sign, and they had to come up. Thereupon she made hay of the weighing-in enclosure. But she broke off abruptly: "Dear me, there's the Marquis de Chouard! How old he's growing!
All the actors clustered round Fauchery and began questioning him and fishing for praise, while Mignon listened to the last of Prulliere's complaints without, however, losing sight of Count Muffat, whose return he had been on the watch for. Entering in the half-light, the count had paused at the back of the stage, for he hesitated to interrupt the quarrel.
The actors paused awkwardly enough while Fontan sneered and asked in his most contemptuous voice: "Eh? What's not it? Who's not doing it right?" "Nobody is! You're quite wrong, quite wrong!" continued Fauchery, and, gesticulating wildly, he came striding over the stage and began himself to act the scene. "Now look here, you Fontan, do please comprehend the way Tardiveau gets packed off.
Fauchery turned toward him with a brisk, impatient gesture. The count had nothing to do with his piece, and he said decisively: "Never! Let Nana play the courtesan as much as she likes, but a lady No, by Jove!" "You are mistaken, I assure you," rejoined the count, growing bolder. "This very minute she has been playing the part of a pure woman for my benefit."
She would then become affectionate, and he would forget it all, one night of tender dalliance making up for the tortures of a whole week. His reconciliation with his wife had rendered his home unbearable. Fauchery, having again fallen under Rose's dominion, the countess was running madly after other loves.
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