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Updated: June 24, 2025
In the middle of the line Nana and Rose Mignon stood side by side, bowing and curtsying. The audience applauded; the clappers shouted acclamations. Then little by little the house emptied. "I must go and pay my respects to the Countess Muffat," said La Faloise. "Exactly so; you'll present me," replied Fauchery; "we'll go down afterward." But it was not easy to get to the first-tier boxes.
And with that Georges grew happy again, for with the beast still warm from her lap in his arms, he held, as it were, part of her. Allusion had been made to a considerable loss which Vandeuvres had last night sustained at the Imperial Club. Muffat, who did not play, expressed great astonishment, but Vandeuvres smilingly alluded to his imminent ruin, about which Paris was already talking.
Count Muffat used to come every evening and go away again with disordered face and burning hands. One evening he was not even received, as Steiner had been obliged to run up to Paris. He was told that Madame was not well. Nana grew daily more disgusted at the notion of deceiving Georges. He was such an innocent lad, and he had such faith in her!
As to the Marquis de Chouard, he was watching for times and seasons. But among all those men who were busy following in the tracks of Venus a Venus with the rouge scarce washed from her cheeks Muffat was at once the most ardent and the most tortured by the novel sensations of desire and fear and anger warring in his anguished members. A formal promise had been made him; Nana was awaiting him.
Muffat sat silent, his eyes fixed on the ground. He had remained voluntarily ignorant of Fauchery's assiduous attentions to the countess, and time had lulled his suspicions and set him hoping that he had been deceiving himself during that fearful night passed in a doorway of the Rue Taitbout. But he still felt a dull, angry repugnance to the man. "Well, what then? Fauchery isn't the devil!"
From that day forth Muffat belonged to him entirely; he again became strictly attentive to the duties of religion; his life was utterly blasted.
Then bending down and whispering in the journalist's ear: "Tell me, my dear fellow," he said, "this Nana surely she's the girl we saw one evening at the corner of the Rue de Provence?" "By Jove, you're right!" cried Fauchery. "I was saying that I had come across her!" La Faloise presented his cousin to Count Muffat de Beuville, who appeared very frigid.
The marquis, more nervous than they and afraid of some farcical ebullition on the part of the ladies, had plucked a blade of grass and was rolling it between his fingers. Only Vandeuvres, who had stayed somewhat apart from the rest of the company, winked imperceptibly at Lucy, who smiled at him as she passed. "Be careful!" M. Venot had whispered as he stood behind Count Muffat.
And now it's two days that he's been sulking." She was talking of Muffat, but she took care not to confess to the young men the real reason for this first quarrel, which was that one evening he had found a man's hat in her bedroom. She had indeed brought home a passer-by out of sheer ennui a silly infatuation.
Bordenave was utterly dumfounded while Mignon, who had never once taken his eyes off the count, tranquilly awaited results. "Then everything can be settled," murmured Muffat in tones of relief; "we can come to an understanding." "The deuce, no! That would be too stupid!" cried Bordenave, mastered by his commercial instincts. "Ten thousand francs to let Rose go! Why, people would make game of me!"
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