she was holding Fontain in her naked arms and
pressing him tightly against her breast. He would never begin it again,
eh? Never again? She loved him too dearly. Why, it was even nice to be
beaten if he struck the blow!

After that night a new life began. For a mere trifle--a yes, a
no--Fontan would deal her a blow. She grew accustomed to it and pocketed
everything. Sometimes she shed tears and threatened him, but he would
pin her up against the wall and talk of strangling her, which had the
effect of rendering her extremely obedient. As often as not, she sank
down on a chair and sobbed for five minutes on end. But afterward she
would forget all about it, grow very merry, fill the little lodgings
with the sound of song and laughter and the rapid rustle of skirts. The
worst of it was that Fontan was now in the habit of disappearing for the
whole day and never returning home before midnight, for he was going to
cafes and meeting his old friends again. Nana bore with everything. She
was tremulous and caressing, her only fear being that she might never
see him again if she reproached him. But on certain days, when she had
neither Mme Maloir nor her aunt and Louiset with her, she grew mortally
dull. Thus one Sunday, when she was bargaining for some pigeons at La
Rochefoucauld Market, she was delighted to meet Satin, who, in her turn,
was busy purchasing a bunch of radishes. Since the evening when the
prince had drunk Fontan's champagne they had lost sight of one another.

"What? It's you! D'you live in our parts?" said Satin, astounded at
seeing her in the street at that hour of the morning and in slippers
too. "Oh, my poor, dear girl, you're really ruined then!"

Nana knitted her brows as a sign that she was to hold her tongue, for
they were surrounded by other women who wore dressing gowns and were
without linen, while their disheveled tresses were white with fluff. In
the morning, when the man picked up overnight had been newly dismissed,
all the courtesans of the quarter were wont to come marketing here,
their eyes heavy with sleep, their feet in old down-at-heel shoes and
themselves full of the weariness and ill humor entailed by a night
of boredom. From the four converging streets they came down into the
market, looking still rather young in some cases and very pale and
charming in their utter unconstraint; in others, hideous and old with
bloated faces and peeling skin. The latter did not the least mind being
seen th