that you never had it twice, he violently combated this theory and
with infinite abuse of the doctors instanced various cases. But
Lucy and Caroline interrupted them, for the growing multitude filled
them with astonishment.
"Just look! Just look what a lot of people!" The night was
deepening, and in the distance the gas lamps were being lit one by
one. Meanwhile interested spectators became visible at windows,
while under the trees the human flood grew every minute more dense,
till it ran in one enormous stream from the Madeleine to the
Bastille. Carriages rolled slowly along. A roaring sound went up
from this compact and as yet inarticulate mass. Each member of it
had come out, impelled by the desire to form a crowd, and was now
trampling along, steeping himself in the pervading fever. But a
great movement caused the mob to flow asunder. Among the jostling,
scattering groups a band of men in workmen's caps and white blouses
had come in sight, uttering a rhythmical cry which suggested the
beat of hammers upon an anvil.
"To Ber-lin! To Ber-lin! To Ber-lin!" And the crowd stared in
gloomy distrust yet felt themselves already possessed and inspired
by heroic imaginings, as though a military band were passing.
"Oh yes, go and get your throats cut!" muttered Mignon, overcome by
an access of philosophy.
But Fontan thought it very fine, indeed, and spoke of enlisting.
When the enemy was on the frontier all citizens ought to rise up in
defense of the fatherland! And with that he assumed an attitude
suggestive of Bonaparte at Austerlitz.
"Look here, are you coining up with us?" Lucy asked him.
"Oh dear, no! To catch something horrid?" he said.
On a bench in front of the Grand Hotel a man sat hiding his face in
a handkerchief. On arriving Fauchery had indicated him to Mignon
with a wink of the eye. Well, he was still there; yes, he was
always there. And the journalist detained the two women also in
order to point him out to them. When the man lifted his head they
recognized him; an exclamation escaped them. It was the Count
Muffat, and he was giving an upward glance at one of the windows.
"You know, he's bemight be the face. Lucy
added:
"I never saw her since that time at the Gaite, when she was at the
end of the grotto."
At this Rose awoke from her stupor and smiled as she said:
"Ah, she's changed; she's changed."
Then she once more lapsed into contemplation and neither moved nor
spoke. Perhaps they would be able to look at her presently! And
with that the three women joined the others in front of the
fireplace. Simonne and Clarisse were discussing the dead woman's
diamonds in low tones. Well, did they really exist--those diamonds?
Nobody had seen them; it must be a bit of humbug. But Lea de Horn
knew someone who knew all about them. Oh, they were monster stones!
Besides, they weren't all; she had brought back lots of other
precious property from Russia--embroidered stuffs, for instance,
valuable knickknacks, a gold dinner service, nay, even en waiting there since this morning," Mignon
informed them. "I saw him at six o'clock, and he hasn't moved
since. Directly Labordette spoke about it he came there with his
handkerchief up to his face. Every half-hour he comes dragging
himself to where we're standing to ask if the person upstairs is
doing better, and then he goes back and sits down. Hang it, that
room isn't healthy! It's all very well being fond of people, but
one doesn't want to kick the bucket."
The count sat with uplifted eyes and did not seem conscious of what
was going on around him. Doubtless he was ignorant of the
declaration of war, and he neither felt nor saw the crowd.
"Look, here he comes!" said Fauchery. "Now you'll see."
The count had, in fact, quitted his bench and was entering the lofty
porch. But the porter, who was getting to know his face at last,
did not give him time to put his question. He said sharply:
"She's dead, monsieur, this very minute."
Nana dead! It was a blow to them all. Without a word Muffat had
gone back to the bench, his face still buried in his handkerchief.
The others burst into exclamations, but they were cut short, for a
fresh band passed by, howling, "A BERLIN! A BERLIN! A BERLIN!"
Nana dead! Hang it, and such a fine girl too! Mignon sighed and
looked relieved, for at last Rose would come down. A chill fell on
the company. Fontan, meditating a tragic role, had assumed a look
of woe and was drawing down the corners of his mouth and rolling his
eyes askance, while Fauchery chewed his cigar nervously, for despite
his cheap journalistic chaff he was really touched. Nevertheless,
the two women continued to give vent to their feelings of surprise.
The last time Lucy had seen her was at the Gaite; Blanche, too, had
seen her in Melusine. Oh, how stunning it was, my dear, when she
appeared in the depths of the crystal grot! The gentlemen
remembered the occasion perfectly. Fontan had played the Prince
Cocorico. And their memories once stirred up, they launched into
interminable particulars. How ripping she looked with that rich
coloring of hers in the crystal grot! Didn't she, now? She didn't
say a word: the authors had even deprived her of a line or two,
because it was superfluous. No, never a word! It was grander that
way, and she drove her public wild by simply showing herself. You
wouldn't find another body like hers! Such shoulders as she had,
and such legs and such a figure! Strange that she should be dead!
You know, above her tights she had nothing on but a golden girdle
which hardly concealed her behind and in front. All round her the
grotto, which was entirely of glass, shone like day. Cascades of
diamonds were flowing down; strings of brilliant pearls glistened
among the stalactites in the vault overhead, and amid the
transparent atmosphere and flowing fountain water, which was crossed
by a wide ray of electric light, she gleamed like the sun with that
flamelike skin and hair of hers. f Paris would always picture her
thus--would see her shining high up among crystal glass like the
good God Himself. No, it was too stupid to let herself die under
such conditions! She must be looking pretty by this time in that
room up there!
"And what a lot of pleasures bloody well wasted!" said Mignon in
melancholy tones, as became a man who did not like to see good and
useful things lost.
He sounded Lucy and Caroline in order to find out if they were going
up after all. Of course they were going up; their curiosity had
increased. Just then Blanche arrived, out of breath and much
exasperated at the way the crowds were blocking the pavement, and
when she heard the news there was a fresh outburst of exclamations,
and with a great rustling of skirts the ladies moved toward the
staircase. Mignon followed them, crying out:
"Tell Rose that I'm waiting for her. She'll come at once, eh?"
"They do not exactly know whether the contagion is to be feared at
the beginning or near the end," Fontan was explaining to Fauchery.
"A medical I know was assuring me that the hours immediately
following death are particularly dangerous. There are miasmatic
exhalations then. Ah, but I do regret this sudden ending; I should
have been so glad to shake hands with her for the last time.
"What good would it do you now?" said the journalist.
"Yes, what good?" the two others repeated.
The crowd was still on the increase. In the bright light thrown
from shop-windows and beneath the wavering glare of the gas two
living streams were distinguishable as they flowed along the
pavement, innumerable hats apparently drifting on their surface. At
that hour the popular fever was gaining ground rapidly, and people
were flinging themselves in the wake of the bands of men in blouses.
A constant forward movement seemed to sweep the roadway, and the cry
kept recurring; obstinately, abruptly, there rang from thousands of
throats:
"A BERLIN! A BERLIN! A BERLIN!"
The room on the fourth floor upstairs cost twelve francs a day,
since Rose had wanted something decent and yet not luxurious, for
sumptuousness is not necessary when one is suffering. Hung with
Louis XIII cretonne, which was adorned with a pattern of large
flowers, the room was furnished with the mahogany commonly found in
hotels. On the floor there was a red carpet variegated with black
foliage. Heavy silence reigned save for an occasional whispering
sound caused by voices in the corridor.
"I assure you we're lost. The waiter told us to turn to the right.
What a barrack of a house!"
"Wait a bit; we must have a look. Room number 401; room number
401!"
"Oh, it's this way: 405, 403. We ought to be there. Ah, at last,
401! This way! Hush now, hush!"
The voices were silent. Then there was a slight coughing and a
moment or so of mental preparation. Then the door opened slowly,
and Lucy entered, followed by Caroline and Blanche. But they
stopped directly; there were already five women in the room; Gaga
was lying back in the solitary armchair, which was a red velvet
Voltaire. In front of the fireplace Simonne and Clarisse were now
standing talking to Lea de Horn, who was seated, while by the bed,
to the left of the door, Rose Mignon, perched on the edge of a
chest, sat gazing fixedly at the body where it lay hidden in the
shadow of the curtains. All the others had their hats and gloves on
and looked as if they were paying a call: she alone sat there with
bare hands and untidy hair and cheeks rendered pale by three nights
of watching. She felt stupid in the face of this sudden death, and
her eyes were swollen with weeping. A shaded lamp standing on the
corner of the chest of drawers threw a bright flood of light over
Gaga.
"What a sad misfortune, is it not?" whispered Lucy as she shook
hands with Rose. "We wanted to bid her good-by."
And she turned round and tried to catch sight of her, but the lamp
was too far off, and she did not dare bring it nearer. On the bed
lay stretched a gray mass, but only the ruddy chignon was
distinguishable and a pale blotch which urniture.
"Yes, my dear, fifty-two boxes, enormous cases some of them, three
truckloads of them!" They were all lying at the station. "Wasn't
it hard lines, eh?--to die without even having time to unpack one's
traps?" Then she had a lot of tin, besides--something like a
million! Lucy asked who was going to inherit it all. Oh, distant
relations--the aunt, without doubt! It would be a pretty surprise
for that old body. She knew nothing about it yet, for the sick
woman had obstinately refused to let them warn her, for she still
owed her a grudge over her little boy's death. Thereupon they were
all moved to pity about the little boy, and they remembered seeing
him at the races. Oh, it was a wretchedly sickly baby; it looked so
old and so sad. In fact, it was one of those poor brats who never
asked to be born!
"He's happier under the ground," said Blanche.
"Bah, and so's she!" added Caroline. "Life isn't so funny!"
In that gloomy room melancholy ideas began to take possession of
their imaginations. They felt frightened. It was silly to stand
talking so long, but a longing to see her kept them rooted to the
spot. It was very hot--the lamp glass threw a round, moonlike patch
of light upon the ceiling, but the rest of the room was drowned in
steamy darkness. Under the bed a deep plate full of phenol exhaled
an insipid smell. And every few moments tiny gusts of wind swelled
the window curtains. The window opened on the boulevard, whence
rose a dull roaring sound.
"Did she suffer much?" asked Lucy, who was absorbed in contemplation
of the clock, the design of which represented the three Graces as
nude young women, smiling like opera dancers.
Gaga seemed to wake up.
"My word, yes! I was present when she died. I promise you it was
not at all pleasant to see. Why, she was taken with a shuddering
fit--"
But she was unable to proceed with her explanation, for a cry arose
outside:
"A BERLIN! A BERLIN! A BERLIN!"
And Lucy, who felt suffocated, flung wide the window and leaned upon
the sill. It was pleasant there; the air came fresh from the starry
sky. Opposite her the windows were all aglow with light, and the
gas sent dancing reflections over the gilt lettering of the shop
signs.
Beneath these, again, a most amusing scene presented itself. The
streams of people were discernible rolling torrentwise along the
sidewalks and in the roadway, where there was a confused procession
of carriages. Everywhere there were vast moving shadows in which
lanterns and lampposts gleamed like sparks. But the band which now
came roaring by carried torches, and a red glow streamed down from
the direction of the Madeleine, crossed the mob like a trail of fire
and spread out over the heads in the distance like a vivid
reflection of a burning house. Lucy called Blanche and Caroline,
forgetting where she was and shouting:
"Do come! You get a capital view from this window!"
They all three leaned out, greatly interested. The trees got in
their way, and occasionally the torches disappeared under the
foliage. They tried to catch a glimpse of the men of their own
party below, but a protruding balcony hid the door, and they could
only make out Count Muffat, who looked like a dark parcel thrown
down on the bench where he sat. He was still burying his face in
his handkerchief. A carriage had stopped in front, and yet another
