il for the nonce she was affecting the manner of a
lady about to pay a call.

"A pretty trollop!" muttered Prulliere, who had been coming across her
for a year past at the Cafe des Varietes. And at this Simonne told them
how Nana had recognized in Satin an old schoolmate, had taken a vast
fancy to her and was now plaguing Bordenave to let her make a first
appearance on the stage.

"How d'ye do?" said Fontan, shaking hands with Mignon and Fauchery, who
now came into the room.

Old Bosc himself gave them the tips of his fingers while the two women
kissed Mignon.

"A good house this evening?" queried Fauchery.

"Oh, a splendid one!" replied Prulliere. "You should see 'em gaping."

"I say, my little dears," remarked Mignon, "it must be your turn!"

Oh, all in good time! They were only at the fourth scene as yet, but
Bosc got up in obedience to instinct, as became a rattling old actor
who felt that his cue was coming. At that very moment the callboy was
opening the door.

"Monsieur Bosc!" he called. "Mademoiselle Simonne!"

Simonne flung a fur-lined pelisse briskly over her shoulders and went
out. Bosc, without hurrying at all, went and got his crown, which he
settled on his brow with a rap. Then dragging himself unsteadily along
in his greatcoat, he took his departure, grumbling and looking as
annoyed as a man who has been rudely disturbed.

"You were very amiable in your last notice," continued Fontan,
addressing Fauchery. "Only why do you say that comedians are vain?"

"Yes, my little man, why d'you say that?" shouted Mignon, bringing down
his huge hands on the journalist's slender shoulders with such force as
almost to double him up.

Prulliere and Clarisse refrained from laughing aloud. For some time past
the whole company had been deriving amusement from a comedy which was
going on in the wings. Mignon, rendered frantic by his wife's caprice
and annoyed at the thought that this man Fauchery brought nothing but a
certain doubtful notoriety to his household, had conceived the idea of
revenging himself on the journalist by overwhelming him with tokens of
friendship. Every evening, therefore, when he met him behind scenes he
would shower friendly slaps on his back and shoulders, as though fairly
carried away by an outburst of tenderness, and Fauchery, who was a
frail, small man in comparison with such a giant, was fain to take the
raps with a strained smile in order not to quarrel with Rose's husband.

"Aha