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Updated: May 31, 2025
For whatever might have been the real plans of the German General Staff, the rank and file, as they came south from Creil and Nanteuil, believed themselves only a few hours from the Boulevards, from the city of pleasure and spoil. What had happened? The common cry of men so sharply foiled went up. "Nous sommes trahis!"
It was Constantin Marc, the youthful author of a play, La Grille, which the Odéon was going to rehearse immediately; and Constantin Marc, although a countryman living in the forest, could henceforth breathe only in the theatre. Nanteuil was to take the principal part in the play. He gazed upon her with emotion, as the precious amphora destined to be the receptacle of his thought.
She had stopped on the topmost step in front of the doors, and was chatting with Constantin Marc and a few journalists: "...Monsieur de Ligny? He danced attendance upon me long before he knew Nanteuil. He used to gaze upon me by the hour, with eager eyes, without daring to speak a word to me. I received him willingly enough, for his behaviour was perfect.
For all that, she received Constantin Marc's visit with pleasure, for she found him sympathetic. He was getting excited. In order to conceal his agitation he made a pretence of talking about his woods in the Vivarais, and began to tell shooting stories and peasants' tales, which he did not finish. "I am in a funk," said Nanteuil. "And you, Monsieur Marc, don't you feel qualms in the stomach?"
She frequented the offices of the Ministry, and it is said that, being solicited by the deputy-chief of a department in the Beaux-Arts, she had yielded with very good grace. At least, so Pradel said. He would exclaim joyfully: "You wouldn't recognize her now, Mother Nanteuil! She has become most desirable, and I like her better than her little vixen of a daughter. She has a better disposition."
See the boy NANTEUIL biding himself in a tree to pursue the delightful exercise of his pencil, while his parents are averse to their son practising his young art!
Nanteuil stood watching it all, the prayers, the spadefuls of earth, the sprinkling; then, kneeling apart on the corner of a tomb, she fervently recited "Our Father who art in heaven...." Pradel spoke at the graveside. He refrained from making a speech. But the Théâtre de l'Odéon could not allow a young artist beloved of all to depart without a word of farewell.
Madame Nanteuil, who was wise and knew the value of things, did not complain on that account, and she was rewarded for her devotion, for, in the six weeks during which she had been loved anew, she had grown young again. Chevalier, following up his idea, inquired: "You would hardly say that Girmandel was still a young man, would you?" "He is not old," said Madame Nanteuil.
"Do you know," said Ellen Midi to Falempin, "that Nanteuil is going to join the Comédie-Française?" "It's not possible!" "The contract is signed." "How did she manage it?" "Not by her acting, you may be sure," replied Ellen, who proceeded to relate a highly scandalous story. "Take care," said Falempin, "she is just behind you." "Yes, I see her!
Madame Nanteuil listened to him serenely, with that gentle determination not to know anything, which had been her one talent in life. "Another dreadful thing," she observed, "is to decide what to have to eat. Félicie is sick of everything. There's no knowing what to get for her." After that, the flagging conversation languished, drawn out into detached phrases, which had no particular meaning.
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