round his waist.
"Zoe, just come here and see how it suits him. It's made for him, eh?
All except the bodice part, which is too large. He hasn't got as much as
I have, poor, dear Zizi!"

"Oh, to be sure, I'm a bit wanting there," murmured Georges with a
smile.

All three grew very merry about it. Nana had set to work buttoning the
dressing jacket from top to bottom so as to make him quite decent. Then
she turned him round as though he were a doll, gave him little thumps,
made the skirt stand well out behind. After which she asked him
questions. Was he comfortable? Did he feel warm? Zounds, yes, he was
comfortable! Nothing fitted more closely and warmly than a woman's
shift; had he been able, he would always have worn one. He moved round
and about therein, delighted with the fine linen and the soft touch of
that unmanly garment, in the folds of which he thought he discovered
some of Nana's own warm life.

Meanwhile Zoe had taken the soaked clothes down to the kitchen in order
to dry them as quickly as possible in front of a vine-branch fire. Then
Georges, as he lounged in an easy chair, ventured to make a confession.

"I say, are you going to feed this evening? I'm dying of hunger. I
haven't dined."

Nana was vexed. The great silly thing to go sloping off from Mamma's
with an empty stomach, just to chuck himself into a hole full of water!
But she was as hungry as a hunter too. They certainly must feed! Only
they would have to eat what they could get. Whereupon a round table
was rolled up in front of the fire, and the queerest of dinners was
improvised thereon. Zoe ran down to the gardener's, he having cooked a
mess of cabbage soup in case Madame should not dine at Orleans before
her arrival. Madame, indeed, had forgotten to tell him what he was to
get ready in the letter she had sent him. Fortunately the cellar was
well furnished. Accordingly they had cabbage soup, followed by a piece
of bacon. Then Nana rummaged in her handbag and found quite a heap of
provisions which she had taken the precaution of stuffing into it. There
was a Strasbourg pate, for instance, and a bag of sweet-meats and some
oranges. So they both ate away like ogres and, while they satisfied
their healthy young appetites, treated one another with easy good
fellowship. Nana kept calling Georges "dear old girl," a form of address
which struck her as at once tender and familiar. At dessert, in order
not to give Zoe any more trouble, they used the