inny of a Count
Muffat were really to treat her as Joseph did Potiphar's wife.

"Leoville or Chambertin?" murmured a waiter, who came craning forward
between Nana and Steiner just as the latter was addressing her in a low
voice.

"Eh, what?" he stammered, losing his head. "Whatever you like--I don't
care."

Vandeuvres gently nudged Lucy Stewart, who had a very spiteful tongue
and a very fierce invention when once she was set going. That evening
Mignon was driving her to exasperation.

"He would gladly be bottleholder, you know," she remarked to the count.
"He's in hopes of repeating what he did with little Jonquier. You
remember: Jonquier was Rose's man, but he was sweet on big Laure. Now
Mignon procured Laure for Jonquier and then came back arm in arm with
him to Rose, as if he were a husband who had been allowed a little
peccadillo. But this time the thing's going to fail. Nana doesn't give
up the men who are lent her."

"What ails Mignon that he should be looking at his wife in that severe
way?" asked Vandeuvres.

He leaned forward and saw Rose growing exceedingly amorous toward
Fauchery. This was the explanation of his neighbor's wrath. He resumed
laughingly:

"The devil, are you jealous?"

"Jealous!" said Lucy in a fury. "Good gracious, if Rose is wanting
Leon I give him up willingly--for what he's worth! That's to say, for
a bouquet a week and the rest to match! Look here, my dear boy, these
theatrical trollops are all made the same way. Why, Rose cried with
rage when she read Leon's article on Nana; I know she did. So now, you
understand, she must have an article, too, and she's gaining it. As for
me, I'm going to chuck Leon downstairs--you'll see!"

She paused to say "Leoville" to the waiter standing behind her with his
two bottles and then resumed in lowered tones:

"I don't want to shout; it isn't my style. But she's a cocky slut all
the same. If I were in her husband's place I should lead her a lovely
dance. Oh, she won't be very happy over it. She doesn't know my
Fauchery: a dirty gent he is, too, palling up with women like that so as
to get on in the world. Oh, a nice lot they are!"

Vandeuvres did his best to calm her down, but Bordenave, deserted by
Rose and by Lucy, grew angry and cried out that they were letting Papa
perish of hunger and thirst. This produced a fortunate diversion. Yet
the supper was flagging; no one was eating now, though platefuls of
cepes a' l'italienne and pineapple f