as dead drunk. Louise Violaine was
beside herself. She had been quite right to prophesy that matters would
end badly, and now she would have her work cut out for the remainder of
the night. Gaga reassured her. She examined the officer with the eye
of a woman of experience and declared that there was nothing much the
matter and that the gentleman would sleep like that for at least a
dozen or fifteen hours without any serious consequences. Foucarmont was
carried off.

"Well, where's Nana gone to?" asked Vandeuvres.

Yes, she had certainly flown away somewhere on leaving the table. The
company suddenly recollected her, and everybody asked for her. Steiner,
who for some seconds had been uneasy on her account, asked Vandeuvres
about the old gentleman, for he, too, had disappeared. But the count
reassured him--he had just brought the old gentleman back. He was a
stranger, whose name it was useless to mention. Suffice it to say that
he was a very rich man who was quite pleased to pay for suppers! Then as
Nana was once more being forgotten, Vandeuvres saw Daguenet looking out
of an open door and beckoning to him. And in the bedroom he found the
mistress of the house sitting up, white-lipped and rigid, while Daguenet
and Georges stood gazing at her with an alarmed expression.

"What IS the matter with you?" he asked in some surprise.

She neither answered nor turned her head, and he repeated his question.

"Why, this is what's the matter with me," she cried out at length; "I
won't let them make bloody sport of me!"

Thereupon she gave vent to any expression that occurred to her. Yes,
oh yes, SHE wasn't a ninny--she could see clearly enough. They had
been making devilish light of her during supper and saying all sorts
of frightful things to show that they thought nothing of her! A pack of
sluts who weren't fit to black her boots! Catch her bothering herself
again just to be badgered for it after! She really didn't know what kept
her from chucking all that dirty lot out of the house! And with this,
rage choked her and her voice broke down in sobs.

"Come, come, my lass, you're drunk," said Vandeuvres, growing familiar.
"You must be reasonable."

No, she would give her refusal now; she would stay where she was.

"I am drunk--it's quite likely! But I want people to respect me!"

For a quarter of an hour past Daguenet and Georges had been vainly
beseeching her to return to the drawing room. She was obstinate,
however; her