her
feet as high as her partner's face. A circle had formed about her and
this excited her even more. She raised her skirts to her knees and
really let herself go in a wild dance, whirling and turning, dropping to
the floor in splits, and then jigging and bouncing.

Coupeau was trying to force his way through the dancers and was
disrupting the quadrille.

"I tell you, it's my daughter!" he cried; "let me pass."

Nana was now dancing backwards, sweeping the floor with her flounces,
rounding her figure and wriggling it, so as to look all the more
tempting. She suddenly received a masterly blow just on the right cheek.
She raised herself up and turned quite pale on recognizing her father
and mother. Bad luck and no mistake.

"Turn him out!" howled the dancers.

But Coupeau, who had just recognized his daughter's cavalier as the
scraggy young man in the coat, did not care a fig for what the people
said.

"Yes, it's us," he roared. "Eh? You didn't expect it. So we catch you
here, and with a whipper-snapper, too, who insulted me a little while
ago!"

Gervaise, whose teeth were tight set, pushed him aside, exclaiming,
"Shut up. There's no need of so much explanation."

And, stepping forward, she dealt Nana a couple of hearty cuffs. The
first knocked the feathered hat on one side, and the second left a red
mark on the girl's white cheek. Nana was too stupefied either to cry
or resist. The orchestra continued playing, the crowd grew angry and
repeated savagely, "Turn them out! Turn them out!"

"Come, make haste!" resumed Gervaise. "Just walk in front, and don't try
to run off. You shall sleep in prison if you do."

The scraggy young man had prudently disappeared. Nana walked ahead, very
stiff and still stupefied by her bad luck. Whenever she showed the lest
unwillingness, a cuff from behind brought her back to the direction of
the door. And thus they went out, all three of them, amid the jeers
and banter of the spectators, whilst the orchestra finished playing
the finale with such thunder that the trombones seemed to be spitting
bullets.

The old life began again. After sleeping for twelve hours in her closet,
Nana behaved very well for a week or so. She had patched herself a
modest little dress, and wore a cap with the strings tied under her
chignon. Seized indeed with remarkable fervor, she declared she would
work at home, where one could earn what one liked without hearing any
nasty work-room talk; and she pro