view, driving one behind the other. They were crowded to bursting,
and bright with a galaxy of white, blue and pink costumes.
"What is it?" said Mme Hugon in some surprise.
Then her instinct told her, and she felt indignant at such an
untoward invasion of her road.
"Oh, that woman!" she murmured. "Walk on, pray walk on. Don't
appear to notice."
But it was too late. The five carriages which were taking Nana and
her circle to the ruins of Chamont rolled on to the narrow wooden
bridge. Fauchery, Daguenet and the Muffat ladies were forced to
step backward, while Mme Hugon and the others had also to stop in
Indian file along the roadside. It was a superb ride past! The
laughter in the carriages had ceased, and faces were turned with an
expression of curiosity. The rival parties took stock of each other
amid a silence broken only by the measured trot of the horses. In
the first carriage Maria Blond and Tatan Nene were lolling backward
like a pair of duchesses, their skirts swelling forth over the
wheels, and as they passed they cast disdainful glances at the
honest women who were walking afoot. Then came Gaga, filling up a
whole seat and half smothering La Faloise beside her so that little
but his small anxious face was visible. Next followed Caroline
Hequet with Labordette, Lucy Stewart with Mignon and his boys and at
the close of all Nana in a victoria with Steiner and on a bracket
seat in front of her that poor, darling Zizi, with his knees jammed
against her own.
"It's the last of them, isn't it?" the countess placidly asked
Fauchery, pretending at the same time not to recognize Nana.
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. 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.
The latter in extreme agitation gazed after this illusive vision of
Nana while his wife turned slowly round and scrutinized him. Then
he cast his eyes on the ground as though to escape the sound of
galloping hoofs which were sweeping away both his senses and his
heart. He could have cried aloud in his agony, for, seeing Georges
among Nana's skirts, he understood it all now. A mere child! He
was brokenhearted at the thought that she should have preferred a
mere child to him! Steiner was his equal, but that child!
Mme Hugon, in the meantime, had not at once recognized Georges.
Crossing the bridge, he was fain to jump into the river, but Nana's
knees restrained him. Then white as a sheet and icy cold, he sat
rigidly up in his place and looked at no one. It was just possible
no one would notice him.
"Oh, my God!" said the old lady suddenly. "Georges is with her!"
The carriages had passed quite through the uncomfortable crowd of
people who recognized and yet gave no sign of recognition. The
short critical encounter seemed to have been going on for ages. And
now the wheels whirled away the carriageloads of girls more gaily
than ever. Toward the fair open country they went, amid the
buffetings of the fresh air of heaven. Bright-colored fabrics
fluttered in the wind, and the merry laughter burst forth anew as
the voyagers began jesting and glancing back at the respectable
folks halting with looks of annoyance at the roadside. Turning
round, Nana could see the walking party hesitating and then
returning the way they had come without crossing the bridge. Mme
Hugon was leaning silently on Count Muffat's arm, and so sad was her
look that no one dared comfort her.
"I say, did you see Fauchery, dear?" Nana shouted to Lucy, who was
leaning out of the carriage in front. "What a brute he was! He
shall pay out for that. And Paul, too, a fellow I've been so kind
to! Not a sign! They're polite, I'm sure."
And with that she gave Steiner a terrible dressing, he having
ventured to suggest that the gentlemen's attitude had been quite as
it should be. So then they weren't even worth a bow? The first
blackguard that came by might insult them? Thanks! He was the
right sort, too, he was! It couldn't be better! One ought always
to bow to a woman.
"Who's the tall one?" asked Lucy at random, shouting through the
noise of the wheels.
"It's the Countess Muffat," answered Steiner.
"There now! I suspected as much," said Nana. "Now, my dear fellow,
it's all very well her being a countess, for she's no better than
she should be. Yes, yes, she's no better that she should be. You
know, I've got an eye for such things, I have! And now I know your
countess as well as if I had been at the making of her! I'll bet
you that she's the mistress of that viper Fauchery! I tell you,
she's his mistress! Between women you guess that sort of thing at
once!"
Steiner shrugged his shoulders. Since the previous day his
irritation had been hourly increasing. He had received letters
which necessitated his leaving the following morning, added to which
he did not much appreciate coming down to the country in order to
sleep on the drawing-room divan.
"And this poor baby boy!" Nana continued, melting suddenly at sight
of Georges's pale face as he still sat rigid and breathless in front
of her.
"D'you think Mamma recognized me?" he stammered at last.
"Oh, most surely she did! Why, she cried out! But it's my fault.
He didn't want to come with us; I forced him to. Now listen, Zizi,
would you like me to write to your mamma? She looks such a kind,
decent sort of lady! I'll tell her that I never saw you before and
that it was Steiner who brought you with him for the first time
today."
"No, no, don't write," said Georges in great anxiety. "I'll explain
it all myself. Besides, if they bother me about it I shan't go home
again."
But he continued plunged in thought, racking his brains for excuses
against his return home in the evening. The five carriages were
rolling through a flat country along an interminable straight road
bordered by fine trees. The country was bathed in a silvery-gray
atmosphere. The ladies still continued shouting remarks from
carriage to carriage behind the backs of the drivers, who chuckled
over their extraordinary fares. Occasionally one of them would rise
to her feet to look at the landscape and, supporting herself on her
neighbor's shoulder, would grow extremely excited till a sudden jolt
brought her down to the seat again. Caroline Hequet in the meantime
was having a warm discussion with Labordette. Both of them were
agreed that Nana would be selling her country house before three
months were out, and Caroline was urging Labordette to buy it back
for her for as little as it was likely to fetch. In front of them
La Faloise, who was very amorous and could not get at Gaga's
apoplectic neck, was imprinting kisses on her spine through her
dress, the strained fabric of which was nigh splitting, while
Amelie, perching stiffly on the bracket seat, was bidding them be
quiet, for she was horrified to be sitting idly by, watching her
mother being kissed. In the next carriage Mignon, in order to
astonish Lucy, was making his sons recite a fable by La Fontaine.
Henri was prodigious at this exercise; he could spout you one
without pause or hesitation. But Maria Blond, at the head of the
procession, was beginning to feel extremely bored. She was tired of
hoaxing that blockhead of a Tatan Nene with a story to the effect
that the Parisian dairywomen were wont to fabricate eggs with a
mixture of paste and saffron. The distance was too great: were they
never going to get to their destination? And the question was
transmitted from carriage to carriage and finally reached Nana, who,
after questioning her driver, got up and shouted:
"We've not got a quarter of an hour more to go. You see that church
behind the trees down there?"
Then she continued:
"Do you know, it appears the owner of the Chateau de Chamont is an
old lady of Napoleon's time? Oh, SHE was a merry one! At least, so
Joseph told me, and he heard it from the servants at the bishop's
palace. There's no one like it nowadays, and for the matter of
that, she's become goody-goody."
"What's her name?" asked Lucy.
"Madame d'Anglars."
"Irma d'Anglars--I knew her!" cried Gaga.
Admiring exclamations burst from the line of carriages and were
borne down the wind as the horses quickened their trot. Heads were
stretched out in Gaga's direction; Maria Blond and Tatan Nene turned
round and knelt on the seat while they leaned over the carriage
hood, and the air was full of questions and cutting remarks,
tempered by a certain obscure admiration. Gaga had known her! The
idea filled them all with respect for that far-off past.
"Dear me, I was young then," continued Gaga. "But never mind, I
remember it all. I saw her pass. They said she was disgusting in
her own house, but, driving in her carriage, she WAS just smart!
And the stunning tales about her! Dirty doings and money flung
about like one o'clock! I don't wonder at all that she's got a fine
place. Why, she used to clean out a man's pockets as soon as look
at him. Irma d'Anglars still in the land of the living! Why, my
little pets, she must be near ninety."
At this the ladies became suddenly serious. Ninety years old! The
deuce, there wasn't one of them, as Lucy loudly declared, who would
live to that age. They were all done for. Besides, Nana said she
didn't want to make old bones; it wouldn't be amusing. They were
drawing near their destination, and the conversation was interrupted
by the cracking of whips as the drivers put their horses to their
best paces. Yet amid all the noise Lucy continued talking and,
suddenly changing the subject, urged Nana to come to town with them
all to-morrow. The exhibition was soon to close, and the ladies
must really return to Paris, where the season was surpassing their
expectations. But Nana was obstinate. She loathed Paris; she
wouldn't set foot there yet!
"Eh, darling, we'll stay?" she said, giving Georges's knees a
squeeze, as though Steiner were of no account.
The carriages had pulled up abruptly, and in some surprise the
company got out on some waste ground at the bottom of a small hill.
With his whip one of the drivers had to point them out the ruins of
the old Abbey of Chamont where they lay hidden among trees. It was
a great sell! The ladies voted them silly. Why, they were only a
heap of old stones with briers growing over them and part of a
tumble-down tower. It really wasn't worth coming a couple of
leagues to see that! Then the driver pointed out to them the
countryseat, the park of which stretched away from the abbey, and he
advised them to take a little path and follow the walls surrounding
it. They would thus make the tour of the place while the carriages
would go and await them in the village square. It was a delightful
walk, and the company agreed to the proposition.
"Lord love me, Irma knows how to take care of herself!" said Gaga,
halting before a gate at the corner of the park wall abutting on the
highroad.
All of them stood silently gazing at the enormous bush which stopped
up the gateway. Then following the little path, they skirted the
park wall, looking up from time to time to admire the trees, whose
lofty branches stretched out over them and formed a dense vault of
greenery. After three minutes or so they found themselves in front
of a second gate. Through this a wide lawn was visible, over which
two venerable oaks cast dark masses of shadow. Three minutes
farther on yet another gate afforded them an extensive view of a
great avenue, a perfect corridor of shadow, at the end of which a
bright spot of sunlight gleamed like a star. They stood in silent,
wondering admiration, and then little by little exclamations burst
from their lips. They had been trying hard to joke about it all
with a touch of envy at heart, but this decidedly and immeasurably
impressed them. What a genius that Irma was! A sight like this
gave you a rattling notion of the woman! The trees stretched away
and away, and there were endlessly recurrent patches of ivy along
the wall with glimpses of lofty roofs and screens of poplars
interspersed with dense masses of elms and aspens. Was there no end
to it then? The ladies would have liked to catch sight of the
mansion house, for they were weary of circling on and on, weary of
seeing nothing but leafy recesses through every opening they came
to. They took the rails of the gate in their hands and pressed
their faces against the ironwork. And thus excluded and isolated, a
feeling of respect began to overcome them as they thought of the
castle lost to view in surrounding immensity. Soon, being quite
unused to walking, they grew tired. And the wall did not leave off;
at every turn of the small deserted path the same range of gray
stones stretched ahead of them. Some of them began to despair of
