hands to keep it from being blown away while her petticoats streamed
out behind her, flapping like a flag.
"Not if I know it!" said Zoe, drawing her head in at once. "Madame
will be blown away. What beastly weather!"
Madame did not hear what she said. With her head over the
balustrade she was gazing at the grounds beneath. They consisted of
seven or eight acres of land enclosed wiready dark with it. Nor did it shelter
Madame, whose skirts were wringing wet. But that didn't put her out
in the smallest degree, and in the pouring rain she visited the
kitchen garden and the orchard, stopping in front of every fruit
tree and bending over every bed of vegetables. Then she ran and
looked down the well and lifted up a frame to see what was
underneath it and was lost in the contemplation of a huge pumpkin.
She wanted to go along every single garden walk and to take
immediate possession of all the things she had been wont to dream of
in the old days, when she was a slipshod work-girl on the Paris
pavements. The rain redoubled, but she never heeded it and was only
miserable at the thought that the daylight was fading. She could
not see clearly now and touched things with her fingers to find out
what they were. Suddenly in the twilight she caught sight of a bed
of strawberries, and all that was childish in her awoke.
"Strawberries! Strawberries! There are some here; I can feel them.
A plate, Zoe! Come and pick strawberries."
And dropping her sunshade, Nana crouched down in the mire under the
full force of the downpour. With drenched hands she began gathering
the fruit among the leaves. But Zoe in the meantime brought no
plate, and when the young woman rose to her feet again she was
frightened. She thought she had seen a shadow close to her.
"It's some beast!" she screamed.
But she stood rooted to the path in utter amazement. It was a man,
and she recognized him.
"Gracious me, it's Baby! What ARE you doing there, baby?"
"'Gad, I've come--that's all!" replied Georges.
Her head swam.
"You knew I'd come through the gardener telling you? Oh, that poor
child! Why, he's soaking!"
"Oh, I'll explain that to you! The rain caught me on my way here,
and then, as I didn't wish to go upstream as far as Gumieres, I
crossed the Choue and fell into a blessed hole."
Nana forgot the strawberries forthwith. She was trembling and full
of pity. That poor dear Zizi in a hole full of water! And she drew
him with her in the direction of the house and spoke of making up a
roaring fire.
"You know," he murmured, stopping her among the shadows, "I was in
hiding because I was afraid of being scolded, like in Paris, when I
come and see you and you're not expecting me."
She made no reply but burst out laughing and gave him a kiss on the
forehead. Up till today she had always treated him like a naughty
urchin, never taking his declarations seriously and amusing herself
at his expense as though he were a little man of no consequence
whatever. There was much ado to install him in the house. She
absolutely insisted on the fire being lit in her bedroom, as being
the most comfortable place for his reception. Georges had not
surprised Zoe, who was used to all kinds of encounters, but the
gardener, who brought the wood upstairs, was greatly nonplused at
sight of this dripping gentleman to whom he was certain he had not
opened the front door. He was, however, dismissed, as he was no
longer wanted.
A lamp lit up the room, and the fire burned with a great bright
flame.
"He'll never get dry, and he'll catch cold," said Nana, seeing
Georges beginning to shiver.
And there and with his
delicate young arms showing and his bright damp hair falling almost
to his shoulders, he looked just like a girl.
"Why, he's as slim as I am!" said Nana, putting her arm round his
waist. "Zoe, just come here and see how it suits him. It's were no men's trousers in her house!
She was on the point
of calling the gardener back when an idea struck her. Zoe, who was
unpacking the trunks in the dressing room, brought her mistress a
change of underwear, consisting of a shift and some petticoats with
a dressing jacket.
"Oh, that's first rate!" cried the young woman. "Zizi can put 'em
all on. You're not angry with me, eh? When your clothes are dry
you can put them on again, and then off with you, as fast as fast
can be, so as not to have a scolding from your mamma. Make haste!
I'm going to change my things, too, in the dressing room."
Ten minutes afterward, when she reappeared in a tea gown, she
clasped her hands in a perfect ecstasy.
"Oh, the darling! How sweet he looks dressed like a little woman!"
He had simply slipped on a long nightgown with an insertion front, a
pair of worked drawers and the dressing jacket, which was a long
cambric garment trimmed with lace. Thus attiredmade
for him, eh? All except the bodice part, which is too large. He
hasn't got as much as I have, poor, dear Zizi!"
"Oh, to be sure, I'm a bit wanting there," murmured Georges with a
smile.
All three grew very merry about it. Nana had set to work buttoning
the dressing jacket from top to bottom so as to make him quite
decent. Then she turned him round as though he were a doll, gave
him little thumps, made the skirt stand well out behind. After
which she asked him questions. Was he comfortable? Did he feel
warm? Zounds, yes, he was comfortable! Nothing fitted more closely
and warmly than a woman's shift; had he been able, he would always
have worn one. He moved round and about therein, delighted with the
fine linen and the soft touch of that unmanly garment, in the folds
of which he thought he discovered some of Nana's own warm life.
Meanwhile Zoe had taken the soaked clothes down to the kitchen in
order to dry them as quickly as possible in front of a vine-branch
fire. Then Georges, as he lounged in an easy chair, ventured to
make a confession.
"I say, are you going to feed this evening? I'm dying of hunger. I
haven't dined."
Nana was vexed. The great silly thing to go sloping off from
Mamma's with an empty stomach, just to chuck himself into a hole
full of water! But she was as hungry as a hunter too. They
certainly must feed! Only they would have to eat what they could
get. Whereupon a round table was rolled up in front of the fire,
and the queerest of dinners was improvised thereon. Zoe ran down to
the gardener's, he having cooked a mess of cabbage soup in case
Madame should not dine at Orleans before her arrival. Madame,
indeed, had forgotten to tell him what he was to get ready in the
letter she had sent him. Fortunately the cellar was well furnished.
Accordingly they had cabbage soup, followed by a piece of bacon.
Then Nana rummaged in her handbag and found quite a heap of
provisions which she had taken the precaution of stuffing into it.
There was a Strasbourg pate, for instance, and a bag of sweet-meats
and some oranges. So they both ate away like ogres and, while they
satisfied their healthy young appetites, treated one another with
easy good fellowship. Nana kept calling Georges "dear old girl," a
form of address which struck her as at once tender and familiar. At
dessert, in order not to give Zoe any more trouble, they used the
same spoon turn and turn about while demolishing a pot of preserves
they had discovered at the top of a cupboard.
"Oh, you dear old girl!" said Nana, pushing back the round table.
"I haven't made such a good dinner these ten years past!"
Yet it was growing late, and she wanted to send her boy off for fear
he should be suspected of all sorts of things. But he kept
declaring that he had plenty of time to spare. For the matter of
that, his clothes were not drying well, and Zoe averred that it
would take an hour longer at least, and as she was dropping with
sleep after the fatigues of the journey, they sent her off to bed.
After which they were alone in the silent house.
It was a very charming evening. The fire was dying out amid glowing
embers, and in the great blue room, where Zoe had made up the bed
before going upstairs, the air felt a little oppressive. Nana,
overcome by the heavy warmth, got up to open the window for a few
minutes, and as she did so she uttered a little cry.
"Great heavens, how beautiful it is! Look, dear old girl!"
Georges had come up, and as though the window bar had not been
sufficiently wide, he put his arm round Nana's waist and rested his
head against her shoulder. The weather had undergone a brisk
change: the skies were clearing, and a full moon lit up the country
with its golden disk of light. A sovereign quiet reigned over the
valley. It seemed wider and larger as it opened on the immense
distances of the plain, where the trees loomed like little shadowy
islands amid a shining and waveless lake. And Nana grew
tenderhearted, felt herself a child again. Most surely she had
dreamed of nights like this at an epoch which she could not recall.
Since leaving the train every object of sensation--the wide
countryside, the green things with their pungent scents, the house,
the vegetables--had stirred her to such a degree that now it seemed
to her as if she had left Paris twenty years ago. Yesterday's
existence was far, far away, and she was full of sensations of which
she had no previous experience. Georges, meanwhile, was giving her
neck little coaxing kisses, and this again added to her sweet
unrest. With hesitating hand she pushed him from her, as though he
were a child whose affectionate advances were fatiguing, and once
more she told him that he ought to take his departure. He did not
gainsay her. All in good time--he would go all in good time!
But a bird raised its song and again was silent. It was a robin in
an elder tree below the window.
"Wait one moment," whispered Georges; "the lamp's frightening him.
I'll put it out."
And when he came back and took her waist again he added:
"We'll relight it in a minute."
Then as she listened to the robin and the boy pressed against her
side, Nana remembered. Ah yes, it was in novels that she had got to
know all this! In other days she would have given her heart to have
a full moon and robins and a lad dying of love for her. Great God,
she could have cried, so good and charming did it all seem to her!
Beyond a doubt she had been born to live honestly! So she pushed
Georges away again, and he grew yet bolder.
"No, let me be. I don't care about it. It would be very wicked at
your age. Now listen--I'll always be your mamma."
A sudden feeling of shame overcame her. She was blushing
exceedingly, and yet not a soul could see her. The room behind them
was full of black night while the country stretched before them in
silence and lifeless solitude. Never had she known such a sense of
shame before. Little by little she felt her power of resistance
ebbing away, and that despite her embarrassed efforts to the
contrary. That disguise of his, that woman's shift and that
dressing jacket set her laughing again. It was as though a girl
friend were teasing her.
"Oh, it's not right; it's not right!" she stammered after a last
effort.
And with that, in face of the lovely night, she sank like a young
virgin into the arms of this mere child. The house slept.
Next morning at Les Fondettes, when the bell rang for lunch, the
dining-room table was no longer too big for the company. Fauchery
and Daguenet had been driven up together in one carriage, and after
them another had arrived with the Count de Vandeuvres, who had
followed by the next train. Georges was the last to come
downstairs. He was looking a little pale, and his eyes were sunken,
but in answer to questions he said that he was much better, though
he was still somewhat shaken by the violence of the attack. Mme
Hugon looked into his eyes with an anxious smile and adjusted his
hair which had been carelessly combed that morning, but he drew back
as though embarrassed by this tender little action. During the meal
she chaffed Vandeuvres very pleasantly and declared that she had
expected him for five years past.
"Well, here you are at last! How have you managed it?"
Vandeuvres took her remarks with equal pleasantry. He told her that
he had lost a fabulous sum of money at the club yesterday and
thereupon had come away with the intention of ending up in the
country.
"'Pon my word, yes, if only you can find me an heiress in these
rustic parts! There must be delightful women hereabouts."
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? For years I've
never succeeded in bringing you all together, and now you all drop
in at once. Oh, I certainly don't complain."
Another place was laid. Fauchery found himself next the Countess
Sabine, whose liveliness and gaiety surprised him when he remembered
her drooping, languid state in the austere Rue Miromesnil drawing
room. Daguenet, on the other hand, who was seated on Estelle's
left, seemed slightly put out by his propinquity to that tall,
silent girl. The angularity of her elbows was disagreeable to him.
