d a crushed heart, to think of the
shame for long. With her it came and went. She remained sometimes for
a week together without thinking of her daughter, and then suddenly a
tender or an angry feeling seized hold of her, sometimes when she had
her stomach empty, at others when it was full, a furious longing to
catch Nana in some corner, where she would perhaps have kissed her or
perhaps have beaten her, according to the fancy of the moment.

Whenever these thoughts came over her, Gervaise looked on all sides in
the streets with the eyes of a detective. Ah! if she had only seen her
little sinner, how quickly she would have brought her home again! The
neighborhood was being turned topsy-turvy that year. The Boulevard
Magenta and the Boulevard Ornano were being pierced; they were doing
away with the old Barriere Poissonniere and cutting right through the
outer Boulevard. The district could not be recognized. The whole of one
side of the Rue des Poissonniers had been pulled down. From the Rue de
la Goutte-d'Or a large clearing could now be seen, a dash of sunlight
and open air; and in place of the gloomy buildings which had hidden the
view in this direction there rose up on the Boulevard Ornano a perfect
monument, a six-storied house, carved all over like a church, with clear
windows, which, with their embroidered curtains, seemed symbolical
of wealth. This white house, standing just in front of the street,
illuminated it with a jet of light, as it were, and every day it caused
discussions between Lantier and Poisson.

Gervaise had several times had tidings of Nana. There are always ready
tongues anxious to pay you a sorry compliment. Yes, she had been told
that the hussy had left her old gentleman, just like the inexperienced
girl she was. She had gotten along famously with him, petted, adored,
and free, too, if she had only known how to manage the situation. But
youth is foolish, and she had no doubt gone off with some young rake, no
one knew exactly where. What seemed certain was that one afternoon she
had left her old fellow on the Place de la Bastille, just for half a
minute, and he was still waiting for her to return. Other persons swore
they had seen her since, dancing on her heels at the "Grand Hall of
Folly," in the Rue de la Chapelle. Then it was that Gervaise took it
into her head to frequent all the dancing places of the neighborhood.
She did not pass in front of a public ball-room without going in.
Coupeau ac