hbors, Lucy and Rose, wait
on him as though he were a sultan. They were entirely taken up with him,
and they helped him and pampered him and watched over his glass and his
plate, and yet that did not prevent his complaining.

"Who's going to cut up my meat for me? I can't; the table's a league
away."

Every few seconds Simonne rose and took up a position behind his back in
order to cut his meat and his bread. All the women took a great interest
in the things he ate. The waiters were recalled, and he was stuffed to
suffocation. Simonne having wiped his mouth for him while Rose and Lucy
were changing his plate, her act struck him as very pretty and, deigning
at length to show contentment:

"There, there, my daughter," he said, "that's as it should be. Women are
made for that!"

There was a slight reawakening, and conversation became general as they
finished discussing some orange sherbet. The hot roast was a fillet with
truffles, and the cold roast a galantine of guinea fowl in jelly. Nana,
annoyed by the want of go displayed by her guests, had begun talking
with the greatest distinctness.

"You know the Prince of Scots has already had a stage box reserved so as
to see the Blonde Venus when he comes to visit the exhibition."

"I very much hope that all the princes will come and see it," declared
Bordenave with his mouth full.

"They are expecting the shah of Persia next Sunday," said Lucy Stewart.
Whereupon Rose Mignon spoke of the shah's diamonds. He wore a tunic
entirely covered with gems; it was a marvel, a flaming star; it
represented millions. And the ladies, with pale faces and eyes
glittering with covetousness, craned forward and ran over the names of
the other kings, the other emperors, who were shortly expected. All of
them were dreaming of some royal caprice, some night to be paid for by a
fortune.

"Now tell me, dear boy," Caroline Hequet asked Vandeuvres, leaning
forward as she did so, "how old's the emperor of Russia?"

"Oh, he's 'present time,'" replied the count, laughing. "Nothing to be
done in that quarter, I warn you."

Nana made pretense of being hurt. The witticism appeared somewhat
too stinging, and there was a murmur of protest. But Blanche gave a
description of the king of Italy, whom she had once seen at Milan. He
was scarcely good looking, and yet that did not prevent him enjoying
all the women. She was put out somewhat when Fauchery assured her that
Victor Emmanuel could not come to