Toward one in the morning, in the great bed of the Venice point draperies, Nana and the count lay still awake. He had returned to her that evening after a three days sulking fit. The room, which was dimly illumined by a lamp, seemed to slumber¹ amid a warm, damp odor of love, while the furniture, with its white lacquer and silver incrustations, loomed² vague and wan³ through the gloom. A curtain had been drawn⁴ to, so that the bed lay flooded with shadow. A sigh became audible; then a kiss broke the silence, and Nana, slipping off the coverlet, sat for a moment or two, barelegged, on the edge of the bed. The count let his head fall back on the pillow and remained in darkness.

"Dearest, you believe in the good God, don't you?" she queried⁵ after some moments' reflection. Her face was serious; she had been overcome by pious⁶ terrors on quitting her lover's arms.

Since morning, indeed, she had been complaining of feeling uncomfortable, and all her stupid notions, as she phrased it, notions about death and hell, were secretly torturing her. From time to time she had nights such as these, during which childish fears and atrocious fancies would thrill her with waking nightmares. She continued:

"I say, d'you think I shall go to heaven?"

And with that she shivered, while the count, in his surprise at her putting such singular questions at such a moment, felt his old religious remorse⁷ returning upon him. Then with her chemise slipping from her shoulders and her hair unpinned, she again threw herself upon his breast, sobbing⁸ and clinging to him as she did so.

"I'm afraid of dying! I'm afraid of dying!" He had all the trouble in the world to disengage himself. Indeed, he was himself afraid of giving in to the sudden madness of this woman clinging to his body in her dread⁹ of the Invisible. Such dread is contagious¹⁰, and he reasoned with her. Her conduct was perfect--she had only to conduct herself well in order one day to merit pardon. But she shook her head. Doubtless she was doing no one any harm; nay¹¹, she was even in the constant habit of wearing a medal of the Virgin¹², which she showed to him as it hung by a red thread between her breasts. Only it had been foreordained that all unmarried women who held conversation with men would go to hell. Scraps¹³ of her catechism recurred¹⁴ to her remembrance. Ah, if one only knew for certain, but, alas¹⁵, one was sure of nothing; nobody ever brought back any information, and then, truly, it would be stupid to bother oneself about things if the priests were talking foolishness all the time. Nevertheless, she religiously kissed her medal, which was still warm from contact with her skin, as though by way of charm against death, the idea of which filled her with icy horror. Muffat was obliged to accompany her into the dressing¹⁶ room, for she shook at the idea of being alone there for one moment, even though she had left the door open. When he had lain down again she still roamed about the room, visiting its several corners and starting and shivering at the slightest noise. A mirror stopped her, and as of old she lapsed¹⁷ into obvious contemplation of her nakedness. But the sight of her breast, her waist and her thighs¹⁸ only doubled her terror, and she ended by feeling with both hands very slowly over the bones of her face.

"You're ugly when you're dead," she said in deliberate tones.

And she pressed her cheeks, enlarging her eyes and pushing down her jaw¹⁹, in order to see how she would look. Thus disfigured, she turned toward the count.

"Do look! My head'll be quite small, it will!"

At this he grew vexed²⁰.

"You're mad; come to bed!"

He fancied he saw her in a grave, emaciated²¹ by a century of sleep, and he joined his hands and stammered²² a prayer. It was some time ago that the religious sense had reconquered him, and now his daily access of faith had again assumed the apoplectic²⁴ intensity²⁵ which was wont²⁶ to leave him well-nigh stunned²⁷. The joints²⁸ of his fingers used to crack, and he would repeat without cease these words only: "My God, my God, my God!" It was the cry of his impotence, the cry of that sin against which, though his damnation was certain, he felt powerless to strive. When Nana returned she found him hidden beneath the bedclothes; he was haggard; he had dug his nails into his bosom²⁹, and his eyes stared upward as though in search of heaven. And with that she started to weep again. Then they both embraced, and their teeth chattered³⁰ they knew not why, as the same imbecile obsession³¹ over-mastered them. They had already passed a similar night, but on this occasion the thing was utterly³² idiotic³³, as Nana declared when she ceased to be frightened. She suspected something, and this caused her to question the count in a prudent³⁴ sort of way. It might be that Rose Mignon had sent the famous letter! But that was not the case; it was sheer fright, nothing more, for he was still ignorant whether he was a cuckold or no.

Two days later, after a fresh disappearance³⁵, Muffat presented himself in the morning, a time of day at which he never came. He was livid; his eyes were red and his whole man still shaken by a great internal struggle. But Zoe, being scared herself, did not notice his troubled state. She had run to meet him and now began crying:

"Oh, monsieur, do come in! Madame nearly died yesterday evening!"

And when he asked for particulars:

"Something it's impossible to believe has happened--a miscarriage³⁶, monsieur."

Nana had been in the family way for the past three months. For long she had simply thought herself out of sorts, and Dr Boutarel had himself been in doubt. But when afterward³⁷ he made her a decisive announcement, she felt so bored thereby³⁸ that she did all she possibly could to disguise her condition. Her nervous terrors, her dark humors, sprang to some extent from this unfortunate state of things, the secret of which she kept very shamefacedly, as became a courtesan mother who is obliged to conceal³⁹ her plight⁴⁰. The thing struck her as a ridiculous accident, which made her appear small in her own eyes and would, had it been known, have led people to chaff⁴¹ her.

"A poor joke, eh?" she said. "Bad luck, too, certainly."

She was necessarily very sharp set when she thought her last hour had come. There was no end to her surprise, too; her sexual economy seemed to her to have got out of order; it produced children then even when one did not want them and when one employed it for quite other purposes! Nature drove her to exasperation⁴²; this appearance of serious motherhood in a career of pleasure, this gift of life amid all the deaths she was spreading around, exasperated⁴³ her. Why could one not dispose of oneself as fancy dictated⁴⁴, without all this fuss? And whence had this brat⁴⁵ come? She could not even suggest a father. Ah, dear heaven, the man who made him would have a splendid notion had he kept him in his own hands, for nobody asked for him; he was in everybody's way, and he would certainly not have much happiness in life!

Meanwhile Zoe described the catastrophe⁴⁶.

"Madame was seized with colic toward four o'clock. When she didn't come back out of the dressing room I went in and found her lying stretched on the floor in a faint. Yes, monsieur, on the floor in a pool of blood, as though she had been murdered. Then I understood, you see. I was furious; Madame might quite well have confided⁴⁸ her trouble to me. As it happened, Monsieur Georges was there, and he helped me to lift her up, and directly a miscarriage was mentioned he felt ill in his turn! Oh, it's true I've had the hump since yesterday!"

In fact, the house seemed utterly upset. All the servants were galloping⁵⁰ upstairs, downstairs and through the rooms. Georges had passed the night on an armchair in the drawing room. It was he who had announced the news to Madame's friends at that hour of the evening when Madame was in the habit of receiving. He had still been very pale, and he had told his story very feelingly, and as though stupefied. Steiner, La Faloise, Philippe and others, besides, had presented themselves, and at the end of the lad's first phrase they burst into exclamations⁵¹. The thing was impossible! It must be a farce⁵²! After which they grew serious and gazed with an embarrassed expression at her bedroom door. They shook their heads; it was no laughing matter.

Till midnight a dozen gentlemen had stood talking in low voices in front of the fireplace. All were friends; all were deeply exercised by the same idea of paternity. They seemed to be mutually excusing themselves, and they looked as confused as if they had done something clumsy. Eventually, however, they put a bold face on the matter. It had nothing to do with them: the fault was hers! What a stunner that Nana was, eh? One would never have believed her capable of such a fake! And with that they departed one by one, walking on tiptoe, as though in a chamber⁵⁵ of death where you cannot laugh.

"Come up all the same, monsieur," said Zoe to Muffat. "Madame is much better and will see you. We are expecting the doctor, who promised to come back this morning."

The lady's maid had persuaded Georges to go back home to sleep, and upstairs in the drawing room only Satin remained. She lay stretched on a divan⁵⁶, smoking a cigarette and scanning the ceiling. Amid the household scare which had followed the accident she had been white with rage, had shrugged⁵⁸ her shoulders violently and had made ferocious⁵⁹ remarks. Accordingly, when Zoe was passing in front of her and telling Monsieur that poor, dear Madame had suffered a great deal:

"That's right; it'll teach him!" said Satin curtly⁶⁰.

They turned round in surprise, but she had not moved a muscle; her eyes were still turned toward the ceiling, and her cigarette was still wedged tightly between her lips.

"Dear me, you're charming, you are!" said Zoe.

But Satin sat up, looked savagely⁶¹ at the count and once more hurled⁶² her remark at him.

"That's right; it'll teach him!"

And she lay down again and blew forth⁶³ a thin jet of smoke, as though she had no interest in present events and were resolved not to meddle⁶⁴ in any of them. No, it was all too silly!

Zoe, however, introduced Muffat into the bedroom, where a scent⁶⁵ of ether lingered amid warm, heavy silence, scarce broken by the dull roll of occasional carriages in the Avenue de Villiers. Nana, looking very white on her pillow, was lying awake with wide-open, meditative⁶⁶ eyes. She smiled when she saw the count but did not move.

"Ah, dear pet!" she slowly murmured. "I really thought I should never see you again."

Then as he leaned forward to kiss her on the hair, she grew tender toward him and spoke⁶⁸ frankly⁶⁹ about the child, as though he were its father.

"I never dared tell you; I felt so happy about it! Oh, I used to dream about it; I should have liked to be worthy⁷⁰ of you! And now there's nothing left. Ah well, perhaps that's best. I don't want to bring a stumbling block into your life."

Astounded⁷¹ by this story of paternity, he began stammering⁷² vague phrases. He had taken a chair and had sat down by the bed, leaning one arm on the coverlet. Then the young woman noticed his wild expression, the blood reddening his eyes, the fever that set his lips aquiver.

"What's the matter then?" she asked. "You're ill too."

"No," he answered with extreme difficulty.

She gazed at him with a profound expression. Then she signed to Zoe to retire, for the latter was lingering round arranging the medicine bottles. And when they were alone she drew him down to her and again asked:

"What's the matter with you, darling? The tears are ready to burst from your eyes--I can see that quite well. Well now, speak out; you've come to tell me something."

"No, no, I swear I haven't," he blurted⁷³ out. But he was choking with suffering, and this sickroom, into which he had suddenly entered unawares, so worked on his feelings that he burst out sobbing and buried his face in the bedclothes to smother⁷⁴ the violence of his grief. Nana understood. Rose Mignon had most assuredly decided⁷⁵ to send the letter. She let him weep for some moments, and he was shaken by convulsions so fierce that the bed trembled under her. At length in accents of motherly compassion⁷⁶ she queried:

"You've had bothers at your home?"

He nodded affirmatively. She paused anew, and then very low:

"Then you know all?"

He nodded assent⁷⁷. And a heavy silence fell over the chamber of suffering. The night before, on his return from a party given by the empress, he had received the letter Sabine had written her lover. After an atrocious night passed in the meditation⁷⁸ of vengeance⁷⁹ he had gone out in the morning in order to resist a longing⁸⁰ which prompted him to kill his wife. Outside, under a sudden, sweet influence of a fine June morning, he had lost the thread of his thoughts and had come to Nana's, as he always came at terrible moments in his life. There only he gave way to his misery⁸¹, for he felt a cowardly joy at the thought that she would console him.

"Now look here, be calm!" the young woman continued, becoming at the same time extremely kind. "I've known it a long time, but it was certainly not I that would have opened your eyes. You remember you had your doubts last year, but then things arranged themselves, owing to my prudence⁸². In fact, you wanted proofs. The deuce, you've got one today, and I know it's hard lines. Nevertheless, you must look at the matter quietly: you're not dishonored because it's happened."

He had left off weeping. A sense of shame restrained him from saying what he wanted to, although he had long ago slipped into the most intimate confessions⁸³ about his household. She had to encourage him. Dear me, she was a woman; she could understand everything. When in a dull voice he exclaimed:

"You're ill. What's the good of tiring you? It was stupid of me to have come. I'm going--"

"No," she answered briskly enough. "Stay! Perhaps I shall be able to give you some good advice. Only don't make me talk too much; the medical man's forbidden it."

He had ended by rising, and he was now walking up and down the room. Then she questioned him:

"Now what are you going to do?

"I'm going to box the man's ears--by heavens, yes!"

She pursed up her lips disapprovingly⁸⁴.

"That's not very wise. And about your wife?"

"I shall go to law; I've proofs."

"Not at all wise, my dear boy. It's stupid even. You know I shall never let you do that!"

And in her feeble voice she showed him decisively how useless and scandalous a duel⁸⁵ and a trial would be. He would be a nine days' newspaper sensation; his whole existence would be at stake, his peace of mind, his high situation at court, the honor of his name, and all for what? That he might have the laughers against him.

"What will it matter?" he cried. "I shall have had my revenge."

"My pet," she said, "in a business of that kind one never has one's revenge if one doesn't take it directly."

He paused and stammered. He was certainly no poltroon⁸⁶, but he felt that she was right. An uneasy feeling was growing momentarily stronger within him, a poor, shameful⁸⁷ feeling which softened⁸⁸ his anger now that it was at its hottest. Moreover, in her frank desire to tell him everything, she dealt him a fresh blow.

"And d'you want to know what's annoying you, dearest? Why, that you are deceiving your wife yourself. You don't sleep away from home for nothing, eh? Your wife must have her suspicions. Well then, how can you blame her? She'll tell you that you've set her the example, and that'll shut you up. There, now, that's why you're stamping about here instead of being at home murdering both of 'em."

Muffat had again sunk down on the chair; he was overwhelmed by these home thrusts. She broke off and took breath, and then in a low voice:

"Oh, I'm a wreck⁸⁹! Do help me sit up a bit. I keep slipping down, and my head's too low."

When he had helped her she sighed and felt more comfortable. And with that she harked back to the subject. What a pretty sight a divorce suit would be! Couldn't he imagine the advocate of the countess amusing Paris with his remarks about Nana? Everything would have come out--her fiasco at the Varietes, her house, her manner of life. Oh dear, no! She had no wish for all that amount of advertising⁹⁰. Some dirty women might, perhaps, have driven him to it for the sake of getting a thundering big advertisement, but she--she desired his happiness before all else. She had drawn him down toward her and, after passing her arm around his neck, was nursing his head close to hers on the edge of the pillow. And with that she whispered softly:

"Listen, my pet, you shall make it up with your wife."

But he rebelled at this. It could never be! His heart was nigh breaking at the thought; it was too shameful. Nevertheless, she kept tenderly insisting.

"You shall make it up with your wife. Come, come, you don't want to hear all the world saying that I've tempted⁹¹ you away from your home? I should have too vile⁹² a reputation! What would people think of me? Only swear that you'll always love me, because the moment you go with another woman--"

Tears choked her utterance⁹³, and he intervened with kisses and said:

"You're beside yourself; it's impossible!"

"Yes, yes," she rejoined, "you must. But I'll be reasonable. After all, she's your wife, and it isn't as if you were to play me false with the firstcomer."

And she continued in this strain, giving him the most excellent advice. She even spoke of God, and the count thought he was listening to M. Venot, when that old gentleman endeavored to sermonize him out of the grasp of sin. Nana, however, did not speak of breaking it off entirely⁹⁴: she preached indulgent good nature and suggested that, as became a dear, nice old fellow, he should divide his attentions between his wife and his mistress, so that they would all enjoy a quiet life, devoid⁹⁵ of any kind of annoyance⁹⁶, something, in fact, in the nature of a happy slumber amid the inevitable⁹⁷ miseries⁹⁸ of existence. Their life would be nowise changed: he would still be the little man of her heart. Only he would come to her a bit less often and would give the countess the nights not passed with her. She had got to the end of her strength and left off, speaking under her breath:

"After that I shall feel I've done a good action, and you'll love me all the more."

Silence reigned⁹⁹. She had closed her eyes and lay wan upon her pillow. The count was patiently listening to her, not wishing her to tire herself. A whole minute went by before she reopened her eyes and murmured:

"Besides, how about the money? Where would you get the money from if you must grow angry and go to law? Labordette came for the bill yesterday. As for me, I'm out of everything; I have nothing to put on now."

Then she shut her eyes again and looked like one dead. A shadow of deep anguish¹⁰⁰ had passed over Muffat's brow. Under the present stroke he had since yesterday forgotten the money troubles from which he knew not how to escape. Despite formal promises to the contrary, the bill for a hundred thousand francs had been put in circulation after being once renewed, and Labordette, pretending to be very miserable¹⁰¹ about it, threw all the blame on Francis, declaring that he would never again mix himself up in such a matter with an uneducated man. It was necessary to pay, for the count  would never have allowed his signature to be protested. Then in addition to Nana's novel demands, his home expenses were extraordinarily¹⁰² confused. On their return from Les Fondettes the countess had suddenly manifested a taste for luxury, a longing for worldly pleasures, which was devouring¹⁰³ their fortune. Her ruinous caprices began to be talked about. Their whole household management was altered, and five hundred thousand francs were squandered¹⁰⁵ in utterly transforming the old house in the Rue⁴⁹ Miromesnil. Then there were extravagantly¹⁰⁶ magnificent gowns and large sums disappeared, squandered or perhaps given away, without her ever dreaming of accounting¹⁰⁷ for them. Twice Muffat ventured to mention this, for he was anxious to know how the money went, but on these occasions she had smiled and gazed at him with so singular an expression that he dared not interrogate¹⁰⁸ her further for fear of a too-unmistakable answer. If he were taking Daguenet as son-in-law as a gift from Nana it was chiefly with the hope of being able to reduce Estelle's dower to two hundred thousand francs and of then being free to make any arrangements he chose about the remainder with a young man who was still rejoicing in this unexpected match.

Nevertheless, for the last week, under the immediate¹⁰⁹ necessity of finding Labordette's hundred thousand francs, Muffat had been able to hit on but one expedient¹¹⁰, from which he recoiled¹¹¹. This was that he should sell the Bordes, a magnificent property valued at half a million, which an uncle had recently left the countess. However, her signature was necessary, and she herself, according to the terms of the deed, could not alienate¹¹² the property without the count's authorization¹¹³. The day before he had indeed resolved to talk to his wife about this signature. And now everything was ruined; at such a moment he would never accept of such a compromise. This reflection added bitterness to the frightful¹¹⁴ disgrace of the adultery. He fully¹¹⁵ understood what Nana was asking for, since in that ever-growing self-abandonment which prompted him to put her in possession of all his secrets, he had complained to her of his position and had confided to her the tiresome¹¹⁶ difficulty he was in with regard to the signature of the countess.

Nana, however, did not seem to insist. She did not open her eyes again, and, seeing her so pale, he grew frightened and made her inhale¹¹⁷ a little ether. She gave a sigh and without mentioning Daguenet asked him some questions.

"When is the marriage?"

"We sign the contract on Tuesday, in five days' time," he replied.

Then still keeping her eyelids¹¹⁸ closed, as though she were speaking from the darkness and silence of her brain:

"Well then, pet, see to what you've got to do. As far as I'm concerned, I want everybody to be happy and comfortable."

He took her hand and soothed¹¹⁹ her. Yes, he would see about it; the important thing now was for her to rest. And the revolt within him ceased, for this warm and slumberous¹²⁰ sickroom, with its all-pervading scent of ether, had ended by lulling¹²¹ him into a mere²³ longing for happiness and peace. All his manhood, erewhile maddened by wrong, had departed out of him in the neighborhood of that warm bed and that suffering woman, whom he was nursing under the influence of her feverish¹²² heat and of remembered delights. He leaned over her and pressed her in a close embrace, while despite her unmoved features her lips wore a delicate, victorious¹²³ smile. But Dr Boutarel made his appearance.

"Well, and how's this dear child?" he said familiarly to Muffat, whom he treated as her husband. "The deuce, but we've made her talk!"

The doctor was a good-looking man and still young. He had a superb practice among the gay world, and being very merry by nature and ready to laugh and joke in the friendliest way with the demimonde ladies with whom, however, he never went farther, he charged very high fees and got them paid with the greatest punctuality. Moreover, he would put himself out to visit them on the most trivial occasions, and Nana, who was always trembling at the fear of death, would send and fetch him two or three times a week and would anxiously confide⁴⁷ to him little infantile ills which he would cure to an accompaniment of amusing gossip and harebrained anecdotes¹²⁵. The ladies all adored him. But this time the little ill was serious.

Muffat withdrew, deeply moved. Seeing his poor Nana so very weak, his sole feeling was now one of tenderness. As he was leaving the room she motioned him back and gave him her forehead to kiss. In a low voice and with a playfully threatening look she said:

"You know what I've allowed you to do. Go back to your wife, or it's all over and I shall grow angry!"

The Countess Sabine had been anxious that her daughter's wedding contract should be signed on a Tuesday in order that the renovated¹²⁶ house, where the paint was still scarcely dry, might be reopened with a grand entertainment. Five hundred invitations had been issued to people in all kinds of sets. On the morning of the great day the upholsterers were still nailing up hangings, and toward nine at night, just when the lusters¹²⁷ were going to be lit, the architect, accompanied by the eager and interested countess, was given his final orders.

It was one of those spring festivities which have a delicate charm of their own. Owing to the warmth of the June nights, it had become possible to open the two doors of the great drawing room and to extend the dancing floor to the sanded paths of the garden. When the first guests arrived and were welcomed at the door by the count and the countess they were positively¹²⁸ dazzled. One had only to recall to mind the drawing room of the past, through which flitted the icy, ghostly presence of the Countess Muffat, that antique room full of an atmosphere of religious austerity with its massive First Empire mahogany furniture, its yellow velvet¹²⁹ hangings, its moldy¹³⁰ ceiling through which the damp had soaked. Now from the very threshold of the entrance hall mosaics¹³¹ set off with gold were glittering under the lights of lofty candelabras, while the marble staircase unfurled, as it were, a delicately chiseled¹³² balustrade. Then, too, the drawing room looked splendid; it was hung with Genoa velvet, and a huge decorative¹³³ design by Boucher covered the ceiling, a design for which the architect had paid a hundred thousand francs at the sale of the Chateau¹³⁴ de Dampierre. The lusters and the crystal ornaments¹³⁵ lit up a luxurious¹³⁶ display of mirrors and precious furniture. It seemed as though Sabine's long chair, that solitary¹³⁷ red silk chair, whose soft contours were so marked in the old days, had grown and spread till it filled the whole great house with voluptuous¹³⁸ idleness and a sense of tense enjoyment¹³⁹ not less fierce and hot than a fire which has been long in burning up.

People were already dancing. The band, which had been located in the garden, in front of one of the open windows, was playing a waltz, the supple¹⁴⁰ rhythm of which came softly into the house through the intervening night air. And the garden seemed to spread away and away, bathed in transparent¹⁴¹ shadow and lit by Venetian lamps, while in a purple tent pitched on the edge of a lawn a table for refreshments¹⁴² had been established. The waltz, which was none other than the quaint¹⁴³, vulgar one in the Blonde Venus, with its laughing, blackguard lilt, penetrated¹⁴⁴ the old hotel with sonorous¹⁴⁵ waves of sound and sent a feverish thrill along its walls. It was as though some fleshly wind had come up out of the common street and were sweeping¹⁴⁶ the relics¹⁴⁷ of a vanished epoch¹⁴⁸ out of the proud old dwelling¹⁴⁹, bearing away the Muffats' past, the age of honor and religious faith which had long slumbered¹⁵⁰ beneath the lofty ceilings.

Meanwhile near the hearth¹⁵¹, in their accustomed places, the old friends of the count's mother were taking refuge. They felt out of their element--they were dazzled and they formed a little group amid the slowly invading mob. Mme du Joncquoy, unable to recognize the various rooms, had come in through the dining saloon. Mme Chantereau was gazing with a stupefied expression at the garden, which struck her as immense. Presently there was a sound of low voices, and the corner gave vent⁵⁴ to all sorts of bitter reflections.

"I declare," murmured Mme Chantereau, "just fancy if the countess were to return to life. Why, can you not imagine her coming in among all these crowds of people! And then there's all this gilding¹⁵² and this uproar¹⁵³! It's scandalous!"

"Sabine's out of her senses," replied Mme du Joncquoy. "Did you see her at the door? Look, you can catch sight of her here; she's wearing all her diamonds."

For a moment or two they stood up in order to take a distant view of the count and countess. Sabine was in a white dress trimmed with marvelous English point lace. She was triumphant¹⁵⁴ in beauty; she looked young and gay, and there was a touch of intoxication¹⁵⁵ in her continual smile. Beside her stood Muffat, looking aged¹⁵⁶ and a little pale, but he, too, was smiling in his calm and worthy fashion.

"And just to think that he was once master," continued Mme Chantereau, "and that not a single rout¹⁵⁷ seat would have come in without his permission! Ah well, she's changed all that; it's her house now. D'you remember when she did not want to do her drawing room up again? She's done up the entire house."

But the ladies grew silent, for Mme de Chezelles was entering the room, followed by a band of young men. She was going into ecstasies¹⁵⁸ and marking her approval with a succession of little exclamations.

"Oh, it's delicious, exquisite¹⁵⁹! What taste!" And she shouted back to her followers¹⁶⁰:

"Didn't I say so? There's nothing equal to these old places when one takes them in hand. They become dazzling! It's quite in the grand seventeenth-century style. Well, NOW she can receive."

The two old ladies had again sat down and with lowered tones began talking about the marriage, which was causing astonishment¹⁶¹ to a good many people. Estelle had just passed by them. She was in a pink silk gown and was as pale, flat, silent and virginal as ever. She had accepted Daguenet very quietly and now evinced neither joy nor sadness, for she was still as cold and white as on those winter evenings when she used to put logs on the fire. This whole fete given in her honor, these lights and flowers and tunes¹⁶², left her quite unmoved.

"An adventurer," Mme du Joncquoy was saying. "For my part, I've never seen him."

"Take care, here he is," whispered Mme Chantereau.

Daguenet, who had caught sight of Mme Hugon and her sons, had eagerly offered her his arm. He laughed and was effusively¹⁶³ affectionate toward her, as though she had had a hand in his sudden good fortune.

"Thank you," she said, sitting down near the fireplace. "You see, it's my old corner."

"You know him?" queried Mme du Joncquoy, when Daguenet had gone. "Certainly I do--a charming young man. Georges is very fond of him. Oh, they're a most respected family."

And the good lady defended him against the mute hostility¹⁶⁴ which was apparent to her. His father, held in high esteem¹⁶⁵ by Louis Philippe, had been a PREFET up to the time of his death. The son had been a little dissipated, perhaps; they said he was ruined, but in any case, one of his uncles, who was a great landowner, was bound to leave him his fortune. The ladies, however, shook their heads, while Mme Hugon, herself somewhat embarrassed, kept harking back to the extreme respectability of his family. She was very much fatigued¹⁶⁶ and complained of her feet. For some months she had been occupying her house in the Rue Richelieu, having, as she said, a whole lot of things on hand. A look of sorrow overshadowed her smiling, motherly face.

"Never mind," Mme Chantereau concluded. "Estelle could have aimed at something much better."

There was a flourish. A quadrille was about to begin, and the crowd flowed back to the sides of the drawing room in order to leave the floor clear. Bright dresses flitted by and mingled¹⁶⁷ together amid the dark evening coats, while the intense light set jewels flashing and white plumes¹⁶⁸ quivering and lilacs and roses gleaming and flowering amid the sea of many heads. It was already very warm, and a penetrating¹⁶⁹ perfume was exhaled¹⁷⁰ from light tulles and crumpled¹⁷¹ silks and satins, from which bare shoulders glimmered¹⁷² white, while the orchestra played its lively airs. Through open doors ranges of seated ladies were visible in the background of adjoining rooms; they flashed a discreet¹⁷³ smile; their eyes glowed, and they made pretty mouths as the breath of their fans caressed¹⁷⁴ their faces. And guests still kept arriving, and a footman announced their names while gentlemen advanced slowly amid the surrounding groups, striving to find places for ladies, who hung with difficulty on their arms, and stretching forward in quest of some far-off vacant armchair. The house kept filling, and crinolined skirts got jammed together with a little rustling¹⁷⁵ sound. There were corners where an amalgam¹⁷⁶ of laces, bunches and puffs¹⁷⁷ would completely bar the way, while all the other ladies stood waiting, politely resigned and imperturbably¹⁷⁸ graceful¹⁷⁹, as became people who were made to take part in these dazzling crushes. Meanwhile across the garden couples, who had been glad to escape from the close air of the great drawing room, were wandering away under the roseate gleam of the Venetian lamps, and shadowy dresses kept flitting along the edge of the lawn, as though in rhythmic¹⁸⁰ time to the music of the quadrille, which sounded sweet and distant behind the trees.

Steiner had just met with Foucarmont and La Faloise, who were drinking a glass of champagne¹⁸¹ in front of the buffet¹⁸².

"It's beastly smart," said La Faloise as he took a survey of the purple tent, which was supported by gilded¹⁸³ lances. "You might fancy yourself at the Gingerbread Fair. That's it--the Gingerbread Fair!"

In these days he continually affected¹⁸⁴ a bantering¹⁸⁵ tone, posing as the young man who has abused every mortal thing and now finds nothing worth taking seriously.

"How surprised poor Vandeuvres would be if he were to come back," murmured Foucarmont. "You remember how he simply nearly died of boredom¹⁸⁶ in front of the fire in there. Egad, it was no laughing matter."

"Vandeuvres--oh, let him be. He's a gone coon!" La Faloise disdainfully rejoined. "He jolly well choused himself, he did, if he thought he could make us sit up with his roast-meat story! Not a soul mentions it now. Blotted¹⁸⁷ out, done for, buried--that's what's the matter with Vandeuvres! Here's to the next man!"

Then as Steiner shook hands with him:

"You know Nana's just arrived. Oh, my boys, it was a state entry. It was too brilliant for anything! First of all she kissed the countess. Then when the children came up she gave them her blessing¹⁸⁸ and said to Daguenet, 'Listen, Paul, if you go running after the girls you'll have to answer for it to me.' What, d'you mean to say you didn't see that? Oh, it WAS smart. A success, if you like!"

The other two listened to him, openmouthed, and at last burst out laughing. He was enchanted¹⁸⁹ and thought himself in his best vein¹⁹⁰.

"You thought it had really happened, eh? Confound it, since Nana's made the match! Anyway, she's one of the family."

The young Hugons were passing, and Philippe silenced him. And with that they chatted about the marriage from the male point of view. Georges was vexed with La Faloise for telling an anecdote¹²⁴. Certainly Nana had fubbed off on Muffat one of her old flames as son-in-law; only it was not true that she had been to bed with Daguenet as lately as yesterday. Foucarmont made bold to shrug⁵⁷ his shoulders. Could anyone ever tell when Nana was in bed with anyone? But Georges grew excited and answered with an "I can tell, sir!" which set them all laughing. In a word, as Steiner put it, it was all a very funny kettle of fish!

The buffet was gradually invaded by the crowd, and, still keeping together, they vacated their positions there. La Faloise stared brazenly¹⁹¹ at the women as though he believed himself to be Mabille. At the end of a garden walk the little band was surprised to find M. Venot busily conferring with Daguenet, and with that they indulged in some facile pleasantries which made them very merry. He was confessing him, giving him advice about the bridal night! Presently they returned in front of one of the drawing-room doors, within which a polka was sending the couples whirling to and fro till they seemed to leave a wake behind them among the crowd of men who remained standing¹⁹² about. In the slight puffs of air which came from outside the tapers¹⁹³ flared¹⁹⁴ up brilliantly, and when a dress floated by in time to the rat-tat of the measure, a little gust¹⁹⁵ of wind cooled the sparkling heat which streamed down from the lusters.

"Egad, they're not cold in there!" muttered La Faloise.

They blinked after emerging from the mysterious shadows of the garden. Then they pointed¹⁹⁶ out to one another the Marquis de Chouard where he stood apart, his tall figure towering over the bare shoulders which surrounded him. His face was pale and very stern, and beneath its crown of scant¹⁹⁷ white hair it wore an expression of lofty dignity. Scandalized by Count Muffat's conduct, he had publicly broken off all intercourse¹⁹⁸ with him and was by way of never again setting foot in the house. If he had consented to put in an appearance that evening it was because his granddaughter had begged him to. But he disapproved¹⁹⁹ of her marriage and had inveighed²⁰⁰ indignantly against the way in which the government classes were being disorganized by the shameful compromises engendered²⁰¹ by modern debauchery.

"Ah, it's the end of all things," Mme du Joncquoy whispered in Mme Chantereau's ear as she sat near the fireplace. "That bad woman has bewitched the unfortunate man. And to think we once knew him such a true believer, such a noblehearted gentleman!"

"It appears he is ruining himself," continued Mme Chantereau. "My husband has had a bill of his in his hands. At present he's living in that house in the Avenue de Villiers; all Paris is talking about it. Good heavens! I don't make excuses for Sabine, but you must admit that he gives her infinite cause of complaint, and, dear me, if she throws money out of the window, too--"

"She does not only throw money," interrupted the other. "In fact, between them, there's no knowing where they'll stop; they'll end in the mire²⁰², my dear."

But just then a soft voice interrupted them. It was M. Venot, and he had come and seated himself behind them, as though anxious to disappear from view. Bending forward, he murmured:

"Why despair? God manifests Himself when all seems lost."

He was assisting peacefully at the downfall of the house which he erewhile governed. Since his stay at Les Fondettes he had been allowing the madness to increase, for he was very clearly aware of his own powerlessness. He had, indeed, accepted the whole position--the count's wild passion for Nana, Fauchery's presence, even Estelle's marriage with Daguenet. What did these things matter? He even became more supple and mysterious, for he nursed a hope of being able to gain the same mastery over the young as over the disunited couple, and he knew that great disorders²⁰³ lead to great conversions²⁰⁴. Providence²⁰⁵ would have its opportunity.

"Our friend," he continued in a low voice, "is always animated²⁰⁶ by the best religious sentiments. He has given me the sweetest proofs of this."

"Well," said Mme du Joncquoy, "he ought first to have made it up with his wife."

"Doubtless. At this moment I have hopes that the reconciliation²⁰⁷ will be shortly effected."

Whereupon the two old ladies questioned him.

But he grew very humble²⁰⁸ again. "Heaven," he said, "must be left to act." His whole desire in bringing the count and the countess together again was to avoid a public scandal, for religion tolerated many faults when the proprieties²⁰⁹ were respected.

"In fact," resumed Mme du Joncquoy, "you ought to have prevented this union with an adventurer."

The little old gentleman assumed an expression of profound astonishment. "You deceive yourself. Monsieur Daguenet is a young man of the greatest merit. I am acquainted with his thoughts; he is anxious to live down the errors of his youth. Estelle will bring him back to the path of virtue²¹⁰, be sure of that."

"Oh, Estelle!" Mme Chantereau murmured disdainfully. "I believe the dear young thing to be incapable²¹¹ of willing anything; she is so insignificant²¹²!"

This opinion caused M. Venot to smile. However, he went into no explanations about the young bride and, shutting his eyes, as though to avoid seeming to take any further interest in the matter, he once more lost himself in his corner behind the petticoats. Mme Hugon, though weary and absent-minded, had caught some phrases of the conversation, and she now intervened and summed up in her tolerant way by remarking to the Marquis de Chouard, who just then bowed to her:

"These ladies are too severe. Existence is so bitter for every one of us! Ought we not to forgive others much, my friend, if we wish to merit forgiveness ourselves?"

For some seconds the marquis appeared embarrassed, for he was afraid of allusions²¹³. But the good lady wore so sad a smile that he recovered almost at once and remarked:

"No, there is no forgiveness for certain faults. It is by reason of this kind of accommodating spirit that a society sinks into the abyss of ruin."

The ball had grown still more animated. A fresh quadrille was imparting a slight swaying motion to the drawing-room floor, as though the old dwelling had been shaken by the impulse of the dance. Now and again amid the wan confusion of heads a woman's face with shining eyes and parted lips stood sharply out as it was whirled away by the dance, the light of the lusters gleaming on the white skin. Mme du Joncquoy declared that the present proceedings²¹⁴ were senseless. It was madness to crowd five hundred people into a room which would scarcely contain two hundred. In fact, why not sign the wedding contract on the Place du Carrousel? This was the outcome of the new code of manners, said Mme Chantereau. In old times these solemnities took place in the bosom of the family, but today one must have a mob of people; the whole street must be allowed to enter quite freely, and there must be a great crush, or else the evening seems a chilly²¹⁵ affair. People now advertised their luxury and introduced the mere foam²¹⁶ on the wave of Parisian society into their houses, and accordingly it was only too natural if illicit²¹⁷ proceedings such as they had been discussing afterward polluted the hearth. The ladies complained that they could not recognize more than fifty people. Where did all this crowd spring from? Young girls with low necks were making a great display of their shoulders. A woman had a golden dagger²¹⁸ stuck in her chignon, while a bodice thickly embroidered²¹⁹ with jet beads²²⁰ clothed her in what looked like a coat of mail. People's eyes kept following another lady smilingly, so singularly marked were her clinging skirts. All the luxuriant splendor²²¹ of the departing winter was there--the overtolerant world of pleasure, the scratch gathering²²² a hostess can get together after a first introduction, the sort of society, in fact, in which great names and great shames jostle together in the same fierce quest of enjoyment. The heat was increasing, and amid the overcrowded rooms the quadrille unrolled the cadenced²²³ symmetry of its figures."Very smart--the countess!" La Faloise continued at the garden door. "She's ten years younger than her daughter. By the by, Foucarmont, you must decide on a point. Vandeuvres once bet that she had no thighs."

This affectation of cynicism bored the other gentlemen, and Foucarmont contented²²⁴ himself by saying:

"Ask your cousin, dear boy. Here he is."

"Jove, it's a happy thought!" cried La Faloise. "I bet ten louis she has thighs."

Fauchery did indeed come up. As became a constant inmate²²⁵ of the house, he had gone round by the dining room in order to avoid the crowded doors. Rose had taken him up again at the beginning of the winter, and he was now dividing himself between the singer and the countess, but he was extremely fatigued and did not know how to get rid of one of them. Sabine flattered his vanity, but Rose amused him more than she. Besides, the passion Rose felt was a real one: her tenderness for him was marked by a conjugal²²⁶ fidelity²²⁷ which drove Mignon to despair.

"Listen, we want some information," said La Faloise as he squeezed his cousin's arm. "You see that lady in white silk?"

Ever since his inheritance had given him a kind of insolent²²⁸ dash of manner he had affected to chaff Fauchery, for he had an old grudge²²⁹ to satisfy and wanted to be revenged for much bygone raillery, dating from the days when he was just fresh from his native province.

"Yes, that lady with the lace."

The journalist stood on tiptoe, for as yet he did not understand.

"The countess?" he said at last.

"Exactly, my good friend. I've bet ten louis--now, has she thighs?"

And he fell a-laughing, for he was delighted to have succeeded in snubbing a fellow who had once come heavily down on him for asking whether the countess slept with anyone. But Fauchery, without showing the very slightest astonishment, looked fixedly²³⁰ at him.

"Get along, you idiot!" he said finally as he shrugged his shoulders.

Then he shook hands with the other gentlemen, while La Faloise, in his discomfiture²³¹, felt rather uncertain whether he had said something funny. The men chatted. Since the races the banker and Foucarmont had formed part of the set in the Avenue de Villiers. Nana was going on much better, and every evening the count came and asked how she did. Meanwhile Fauchery, though he listened, seemed preoccupied²³², for during a quarrel that morning Rose had roundly confessed to the sending of the letter. Oh yes, he might present himself at his great lady's house; he would be well received! After long hesitation²³³ he had come despite everything--out of sheer courage. But La Faloise's imbecile pleasantry had upset him in spite of his apparent tranquillity²³⁴.

"What's the matter?" asked Philippe. "You seem in trouble."

"I do? Not at all. I've been working: that's why I came so late."

Then coldly, in one of those heroic moods which, although unnoticed, are wont to solve the vulgar tragedies of existence:

"All the same, I haven't made my bow to our hosts. One must be civil."

He even ventured on a joke, for he turned to La Faloise and said:

"Eh, you idiot?"

And with that he pushed his way through the crowd. The valet's full voice was no longer shouting out names, but close to the door the count and countess were still talking, for they were detained by ladies coming in. At length he joined them, while the gentlemen who were still on the garden steps stood on tiptoe so as to watch the scene. Nana, they thought, must have been chattering²³⁵.

"The count hasn't noticed him," muttered Georges. "Look out! He's turning round; there, it's done!"

The band had again taken up the waltz in the Blonde Venus. Fauchery had begun by bowing to the countess, who was still smiling in ecstatic serenity²³⁶. After which he had stood motionless a moment, waiting very calmly behind the count's back. That evening the count's deportment was one of lofty gravity: he held his head high, as became the official and the great dignitary. And when at last he lowered his gaze in the direction of the journalist he seemed still further to emphasize the majesty²³⁷ of his attitude. For some seconds the two men looked at one another. It was Fauchery who first stretched out his hand. Muffat gave him his. Their hands remained clasped, and the Countess Sabine with downcast eyes stood smiling before them, while the waltz continually beat out its mocking, vagabond rhythm.

"But the thing's going on wheels!" said Steiner.

"Are their hands glued together?" asked Foucarmont, surprised at this prolonged clasp. A memory he could not forget brought a faint glow to Fanchery's pale cheeks, and in his mind's eye he saw the property room bathed in greenish twilight²³⁸ and filled with dusty bric-a-brac. And Muffat was there, eggcup in hand, making a clever use of his suspicions. At this moment Muffat was no longer suspicious, and the last vestige²³⁹ of his dignity was crumbling²⁴⁰ in ruin. Fauchery's fears were assuaged²⁴¹, and when he saw the frank gaiety of the countess he was seized with a desire to laugh. The thing struck him as comic.

"Aha, here she is at last!" cried La Faloise, who did not abandon a jest when he thought it a good one. "D'you see Nana coming in over there?"

"Hold your tongue, do, you idiot!" muttered Philippe.

"But I tell you, it is Nana! They're playing her waltz for her, by Jove! She's making her entry. And she takes part in the reconciliation, the devil she does! What? You don't see her? She's squeezing all three of 'em to her heart--my cousin Fauchery, my lady cousin and her husband, and she's calling 'em her dear kitties. Oh, those family scenes give me a turn!"

Estelle had come up, and Fauchery complimented her while she stood stiffly up in her rose-colored dress, gazing at him with the astonished look of a silent child and constantly glancing aside at her father and mother. Daguenet, too, exchanged a hearty²⁴² shake of the hand with the journalist. Together they made up a smiling group, while M. Venot came gliding²⁴³ in behind them. He gloated over them with a beatified expression and seemed to envelop²⁴⁴ them in his pious sweetness, for he rejoiced in these last instances of self-abandonment which were preparing the means of grace.

But the waltz still beat out its swinging, laughing, voluptuous measure; it was like a shrill²⁴⁵ continuation of the life of pleasure which was beating against the old house like a rising tide. The band blew louder trills from their little flutes²⁴⁶; their violins sent forth more swooning notes. Beneath the Genoa velvet hangings, the gilding and the paintings, the lusters exhaled a living heat and a great glow of sunlight, while the crowd of guests, multiplied in the surrounding mirrors, seemed to grow and increase as the murmur⁶⁷ of many voices rose ever louder. The couples who whirled round the drawing room, arm about waist, amid the smiles of the seated ladies, still further accentuated²⁴⁷ the quaking of the floors. In the garden a dull, fiery²⁴⁸ glow fell from the Venetian lanterns and threw a distant reflection of flame over the dark shadows moving in search of a breath of air about the walks at its farther end. And this trembling of walls and this red glow of light seemed to betoken²⁴⁹ a great ultimate conflagration²⁵⁰ in which the fabric²⁵¹ of an ancient honor was cracking and burning on every side. The shy early beginnings of gaiety, of which Fauchery one April evening had heard the vocal²⁵² expression in the sound of breaking glass, had little by little grown bolder, wilder, till they had burst forth in this festival. Now the rift²⁵³ was growing; it was crannying the house and announcing approaching downfall. Among drunkards in the slums it is black misery, an empty cupboard, which put an end to ruined families; it is the madness of drink which empties the wretched beds. Here the waltz tune¹⁰⁴ was sounding the knell²⁵⁴ of an old race amid the suddenly ignited ruins of accumulated wealth, while Nana, although unseen, stretched her lithe²⁵⁵ limbs above the dancers' heads and sent corruption²⁵⁶ through their caste, drenching²⁵⁷ the hot air with the ferment²⁵⁸ of her exhalations and the vagabond lilt of the music.

On the evening after the celebration of the church marriage Count Muffat made his appearance in his wife's bedroom, where he had not entered for the last two years. At first, in her great surprise, the countess drew back from him. But she was still smiling the intoxicated²⁵⁹ smile which she now always wore. He began stammering in extreme embarrassment²⁶⁰; whereupon she gave him a short moral lecture. However, neither of them risked a decisive explanation. It was religion, they pretended, which required this process of mutual⁵³ forgiveness, and they agreed by a tacit understanding to retain their freedom. Before going to bed, seeing that the countess still appeared to hesitate, they had a business conversation, and the count was the first to speak of selling the Bordes. She consented at once. They both stood in great want of money, and they would share and share alike. This completed the reconciliation, and Muffat, remorseful²⁶¹ though he was, felt veritably relieved.

That very day, as Nana was dozing²⁶² toward two in the afternoon, Zoe made so bold as to knock at her bedroom door. The curtains were drawn to, and a hot breath of wind kept blowing through a window into the fresh twilight stillness within. During these last days the young woman had been getting up and about again, but she was still somewhat weak. She opened her eyes and asked:

"Who is it?"

Zoe was about to reply, but Daguenet pushed by her and announced himself in person. Nana forthwith propped²⁶³ herself up on her pillow and, dismissing the lady's maid:

"What! Is that you?" she cried. "On the day of your marriage? What can be the matter?"

Taken aback by the darkness, he stood still in the middle of the room. However, he grew used to it and came forward at last. He was in evening dress and wore a white cravat²⁶⁴ and gloves.

"Yes, to be sure, it's me!" he said. "You don't remember?"

No, she remembered nothing, and in his chaffing way he had to offer himself frankly to her.

"Come now, here's your commission. I've brought you the handsel of my innocence²⁶⁵!"

And with that, as he was now by the bedside, she caught him in her bare arms and shook with merry laughter and almost cried, she thought it so pretty of him.

"Oh, that Mimi, how funny he is! He's thought of it after all! And to think I didn't remember it any longer! So you've slipped off; you're just out of church. Yes, certainly, you've got a scent of incense²⁶⁶ about you. But kiss me, kiss me! Oh, harder than that, Mimi dear! Bah! Perhaps it's for the last time."

In the dim room, where a vague odor of ether still lingered, their tender laughter died away suddenly. The heavy, warm breeze swelled²⁶⁷ the window curtains, and children's voices were audible in the avenue without. Then the lateness of the hour tore them asunder²⁶⁸ and set them joking again. Daguenet took his departure with his wife directly after the breakfast

快到深夜一点钟了，娜娜和伯爵躺在那张铺着威尼斯针织花边床单的大床上，还没有入睡。他怄了三天气，那天晚上回来了。卧室内只有一盏灯，灯光惨淡，充满睡意，弥漫着温暖、潮湿和做爱的气氛。镶银的白漆家具在灯光下泛着朦胧的白色。放下的帷幔把床湮没在一片黑暗之中。一声叹息，随后一个亲吻，打破了寂静的气氛，娜娜倏地从被窝里钻出来，光着腿在床沿上坐了片刻。伯爵的头落到枕头上，呆在黑暗中。

“亲爱的，你信仰仁慈的上帝吗？”娜娜思索了一会儿才这样问道。她离开情人的怀里后，表情严肃，内心充满对宗教的恐惧。

从早上起，她就抱怨自己身体不适。正如她所说，她的一些愚蠢的想法，如对死亡和地狱的想法，在暗暗地折磨着她。有时，她在夜里像孩子一样害怕起来，头脑中产生一些可怕的想法，把她折磨得睁着眼睛做噩梦。她又说道：

“怎么样？你想不到我要上天堂了吗？”

接着，她打了一个战栗。伯爵感到蹊跷，在这样的时刻她竟然提出这些怪问题来，他觉得自己心中又萌发了天主教徒的悔恨。这时，睡衣从她的肩上落下来，头发披散着，猛然扑到伯爵的怀里，紧紧搂住他，呜咽起来：

“我怕死……我怕死……”

他使出全身力气才挣脱了她。这个女人因为怕死，紧紧地抱住他，这种恐惧感是有传染性的，他生怕自己的情绪也受到她的精神错乱的影响，便劝导她。他说她身体很好，只要她行为规矩一些，总有一天，她会得到上帝宽恕的。但是她摇摇头，她不曾伤害过任何人，这是不容置疑的。她胸前总是戴着圣母像，她还把一根红线系在两乳之间的圣母像指给他看；不过，上帝是安排好了的，凡是没有结过婚同男人同居的女人都要入地狱。她想起了教理书中的零零星星的东西。啊！人要能知道死后怎样，那该多好，但是什么也不知道，没有一个人带回来死后的消息。确实，如果神甫们说的是蠢话，我们去烦这烦那，真是傻瓜。不过，她仍然虔诚地吻那个带着她体温的圣像，她把那个圣像看成可以驱除死亡的祛邪物，她一想到死就怕得浑身发冷。

她到梳洗间去也要缪法陪同，即使开着门，她在那里呆一会儿，也怕得浑身发抖。缪法又躺到床上，她还在卧室里踱来踱去，每个角落她都要看看，那怕听见一点点声音，便吓得浑身打哆嗦。她在一面镜子前面停下来，像从前一样，她一看见自己的裸体，就忘掉了一切。但是这一次，她看见自己的胸脯、腰部和大腿，更加害怕起来，最后她抬起双手摸着脸上的骨头，摸了好一阵子。

“人死后样子就难看了。”她拖长声音说道。

她用手挤压双颊，睁大眼睛，下颌向内收缩，想看看自己死后是什么样子。接着，她把这副鬼脸转向伯爵，说道：

“你瞧，我死后脑袋会变得很小。”

伯爵见她那样子，生气了。

“你疯了，快点睡觉吧。”

他仿佛看见她躺在坟墓里，长眠了一个世纪，只剩下一身白骨。于是他双手合十，口中念念有词，祈祷起来。已有一段时间，宗教信仰又征服了他，每天这种信仰发作起来，就像中风一样来势凶猛，把他弄得疲惫不堪。他的手指格格作响，口中不停地念着：“我的天主……我的天主……我的天主……”这是他的软弱无力的叫喊，是他的罪孽的叫喊。尽管他知道自己肯定要下地狱，但他却无力洗刷自己的罪孽。娜娜回到床上时，她发现他盖着被子，神色惶恐不安，指甲放在胸口，眼睛仰望着空中，似乎在寻找天国。娜娜又哭了，两人搂抱起来，牙齿咬得格格响，他俩自己也莫名其妙，只能在愚蠢的顽念中打滚。以前他们已经度过类似这样的一个夜晚；不过，这一次太荒唐了，娜娜不再害怕后，自己也这么说。她突然起了疑心，便谨慎地问伯爵：罗丝·米尼翁大概已经把那封告发信寄出去了。但是事情并不是这样，不过是伯爵害怕而已，没有别的，因为他还不知道自己戴了绿帽子。

缪法又一次离开娜娜出走，两天没回来，一天早上，他突然来了；他从来不在这样的时刻回来。他脸色铁青，两眼通红，心绪不宁，内心还在激烈斗争着。可是心里慌张的佐爱没有发觉他忐忑不安的神态，便跑过来迎接他，对他说道：“啊！先生，您终于回来了！昨天晚上，太太差点死了。”

伯爵问她详细情况，她回答道：

“这事说了别人难以相信……太太小产了，先生！”

娜娜怀孕已经三个月了。很长时间以来，她以为自己只是身体不适，但布塔雷医生却有点怀疑，后来他明确说她怀了孕。因为她觉得很烦恼，就竭尽全力隐瞒怀孕真相。她神经质般地恐惧，心情忧郁，与这件事多少有点关系。她对怀孕之事守口如瓶，为没有结婚就怀了孕而感到很害羞，不得不把真相隐瞒起来。对她来说，这似乎是一件意外事故，人家知道了会有损她的声誉，人家会取笑她。哎？真是开玩笑！真倒霉！她以为自己不会再怀孕了，这次偏偏又碰上了。她惊讶不已，仿佛她的性器官的功能紊乱了，她不想要孩子，并把这东西作了别的用途时，她偏偏怀了孕。造化令她恼怒，在她正当享乐的时候，竟然要让她当上严肃的母亲，在她把周围的男人一个个害死的时候，竟然给她一个小生命。难道人不该少遇到一些麻烦，按照自己的意愿来安排生活吗？这个小孩是从哪里掉下来的呢？连她自己也说不清楚。啊！天哪！这个孩子的父亲要有好心肠才会承认孩子是自己的，因为现在还没有一个人承认，如果一个人专门损害别人，他自己一生中肯定不会很幸福的。

这时，佐爱把这件倒霉的事的经过讲给伯爵听。

“将近四点钟时，太太肚子疼起来。我见她到梳妆室去很久不出来，就进去看看，发现她躺在地上，晕了过去。是的，先生，她晕倒在地上，还有一摊血，像被人谋杀了似的……于是，我明白了是怎么回事。我很生气，太太应该把这事告诉我……当时恰巧乔治先生也在场。他帮我把她扶起来，他一听到小产这个词，也难过了……说真的，从昨天起，我就为太太发愁！”

公馆里确实乱糟糟的，仆人们跑上跑下，每个房间里都有仆人进进出出。乔治在客厅的一张椅子上过了一夜。晚上，在太太平常接待客人的时间，乔治把这个消息告诉了太太的朋友们。他面色苍白，带着惊愕和激动的神态，讲述事情发生的经过。斯泰内、拉法卢瓦兹、菲利普和其他人已经来过了。他们听到第一句话，就大叫一声，这不可能！一定是在开玩笑！接着，他们变得严肃起来，目光盯着房门，神态惆怅，摇摇头，不再觉得这是可笑的了。共有十二位先生坐在壁炉前，他们低声聊天，一直聊到午夜为止。他们都是朋友，每个人都在苦苦思索，究竟谁是父亲。他们好像彼此原谅，个个惴惴不安，觉得自己做了蠢事。然后，他们弓起背，觉得这事与他们毫不相干，这是娜娜自己的事。哎！这个娜娜真了不起！人家从来没有想到她会闹出这样的笑话！随后他们一个接一个蹑手蹑脚地走了，似乎这间卧室里死了人，不能笑出声来。

“先生，还是上楼去吧，”佐爱对缪法说道，“太太身体好多了，她会接待你的……我们在等大夫来，他答应今天早上来看太太。”

这个贴身女仆劝说乔治回家睡觉了。楼上客厅里只剩下萨丹一个人，她躺在一张长沙发上，嘴里叼支香烟，眼睛望着上空。娜娜意外小产后，公馆里的人个个惊慌失措，她却无动于衷，肚子里憋着气，不时耸耸肩膀，说几句刻薄话。佐爱走过她面前时，跟伯爵说，可怜的太太这次可吃了大苦头。萨丹脱口说了一句难听的话：

“这才好呢，这次可教训了她一下！”

他俩吃惊地掉过头来。萨丹一动也没有动，眸子一直盯住天花板，两片嘴唇死命地叼着那支香烟。

“哎！你的心肠真好！”佐爱说道。

萨丹坐起来，气乎乎地瞧着伯爵，对准他的面孔又说了一遍：

“这才好呢，这次可教训了她一下！”

说完，她又躺下来，吐出淡淡的一缕烟，仿佛事不关己并决心不介入这事。不管啦，真是太愚蠢了！

佐爱还是领缪法进了卧室。屋里温暖而又宁静，散发着一股乙醚的气味，维里埃大街上偶尔有马车驶过，车轮发出低沉的声音，有点打破室内的寂静。娜娜的头枕在枕头上，面色苍白，还没有入睡，眼睛睁得大大的，像在沉思冥想。她看见伯爵，一动没动，只嫣然一笑。

“啊！我的心肝，”她拖长声音悄声说道，“我原来以为永远见不到你了。”

他俯下身子去吻她的头发，她感动了，真心诚意地对他谈到孩子，似乎伯爵就是孩子的父亲。

“我一直不敢告诉你……我感到很幸福！我做过不少梦，我真希望他不愧是你的孩子，现在一切都完了……不过，这样也许更好些。我不想给你生活中添麻烦。”

他听说自己是孩子的父亲，感到很惊讶，结结巴巴说了几句话。他搬了一把椅子，坐到床边，把一只胳膊搁在被子上。这时候，娜娜发现他大惊失色，眼睛通红，嘴唇像发烧似的颤抖着。

“你怎么啦？”她问道，“难道你也病啦？”

“没有。”他不无痛苦地说道。

她用深情的目光瞧瞧他。接着她做了一个手势，把呆在那里收拾药瓶的佐爱打发走。等房间里只有他们两个人时，她把他拉到身边，问道：

“你怎么啦，亲爱的？……你眼泪汪汪，我看得很清楚……

说出来吧，你来肯定有什么事情要对我说。”

“没有事情，没有事情，我向你保证。”他结结巴巴说道。

可是他痛苦得喉咙哽住了，不知道自己为什么进了病人的房间，进来了非常伤感，抽抽噎噎哭了，他把脸埋到被子里，试图不让痛苦迸发出来。娜娜这下明白了，一定是罗丝·米尼翁下了狠心，把那封信寄走了。娜娜让他哭了一会儿。他哭得身子猛烈抽搐着，连她躺着的床都被震动了。末了，她用慈母般的同情口吻问道：

“你家里发生了什么麻烦事了吗？”

他点点头。她停了一会，然后低声问道：

“那么，你全知道了？”

他又点点头。于是这间痛苦气氛甚浓的房间里顿时又沉静下来。昨天夜里，他参加皇后举行的晚会后，回到家里就收到萨比娜写给她的情人的那封信。他度过了痛苦不堪的一夜，他在思索着如何报仇。他早上就出来了，想缓和一下杀妻的念头。到了外面，他被六月早晨的风和日丽的气候陶醉了，报仇的念头消失了，便来到娜娜家里。每当他在生活中碰到不堪忍受的事情，就来这里，只有在这里，他才能摆脱痛苦，娜娜安慰他一下，他就会消气，心情也愉快起来。

“算了，冷静一下吧，”娜娜露出很善良的样子说道，“我早就知道这件事了。但是，当然不该由我来让你睁开眼睛。你还记得吧，去年你就产生过怀疑。后来由于我小心谨慎，事情才没有闹出来。总而言之，你还没有证据……当然罗！今天你有了一个证据，你心里很难过，这我很理解。不过，这事不会影响你的声誉的。现在你应该迁就这一既成事实。”

他不哭了。可是他仍然感到羞耻，尽管他早就对娜娜谈过他们夫妻间最隐秘的事情。她不得不安慰他。要知道，她是女人，她什么话郁听得进。他用低沉的声音随口说道：“你在病中，缠住你有什么好处呢！……我来这里真蠢。我走啦。”

“别走。”她连忙说道，“你再留一下，也许我会给你出个好主意。不过，不要叫我说得太多，医生不让我多说话。”

最后他站起来，在卧室里来回走动。于是，她问他：

“现在，你准备怎么办？”

“我要去掴那个男人的耳光，这是理所当然的。”

她噘了一下嘴，不赞成他这样做。

“这可不是好办法……对你老婆呢？”

“我要去告她，我有证据。”

“你一点也不高明，亲爱的。你这样做很愚蠢，你知道，我永远不会让你这样做。”

娜娜用微弱的声音慢条斯理地向他指出，决斗或打官司，不但无济于事，还会酿成丑闻。那样，会在一个星期内，成为报界奇闻；这是在拿他的生命来孤注一掷，他的宁静、他在宫廷中的高官地位、他的姓氏的荣誉都会受到影响；为什么要这样做呢？难道是为了让别人来嘲笑自己。

“这有什么关系！”他嚷道，“我要根仇。”

“我的心肝，”她说道，“这些肮脏的事不当场抓住，永远也报不了仇。”

他不说话了，接着嘟哝了一阵子。当然，他不是胆小鬼，但是他觉得她说得有道理，他心里越来越感到不安，一种可怜感和羞耻感使他在狂怒之下，心软了下来。她决计以坦诚相待，对他什么都讲，这样她又给了他一个新的打击。

“亲爱的，你想知道你苦恼的原因吗？……因为你自己也欺骗了你的妻子。嗯？你经常在外面过夜，不是为了消磨时间吧，你老婆大概起了疑心。那么，你有什么理由责备她呢？她会回答说，你给她作出了榜样，一下子就把你的嘴堵住了……亲爱的，你跑到这里气得踱来踱去，不在家里把他们两人都杀死，原因就在这里。”

这番毫不留情的话说得他垂头丧气，他一屁股坐到椅子上，她突如其来的这番话把他说服了。娜娜住嘴了，喘了口气；

接着，她低声说道：

“啊！我累坏了。帮我往上躺躺。我身子一直往下滑，我的头太低了。”

他帮她躺高了些，她舒了一口气，感觉舒服多了。随后，她又回到原来的话题，说打官司离婚会有一场好戏看。难道他看不出，伯爵夫人的律师会提出娜娜来，让巴黎人当作笑料吗？这样一来，什么事都会被张扬出去，她在游艺剧院演出的失败，她的公馆，她的生活，无一例外。啊！不行，她不希望搞得满城风雨！也许一些下流女人会怂恿他这样做，借他的事为自己大肆宣传，但是，她首先想到的是他的幸福。她把他拉过来，把他的头按到枕头边，靠近自己的头，用一只胳膊搂住他的脖子，温存地对他说道：

“听我说，我的心肝，你还是与你的老婆和好吧。”

他听了火冒三丈。绝对办不到！他的肺都要气炸了，这样太丢脸了。然而她还是温柔地劝他这样做。

“你还是与你老婆和好吧……你听到了吧，你总不愿意到处听人说是我让你离开你的家庭的吧？这太败坏我的名声了，人家会对我怎么想呢？……不过，你得发誓永远爱我，因为有朝一日你若同另一个女人要好时，你就……”

他被泪水哽住了。他一股劲儿吻她，打断了她的话，连连说道：

“你疯了，和好是办不到的！”

“不，不，”娜娜又说，“必须和好……我将迁就你们。不管怎样，她是你的老婆，这与你随便遇上一个女人就对我不忠诚是两回事。”

她仍然这样说下去，以良言相劝。她甚至谈到了天主。他以为是在听韦诺先生讲话，老头子在训诫他，要把他从罪孽中拯救出来时，就是这样说话的。不过，她并没有谈到与他绝断关系，而是劝他两边逢迎，在老婆和情妇之间做一个老好人，让她们两人各得其所，这样平平静静地过日子，使每个人都没有烦恼，就像在人生不可避免的烦恼中，能够有幸福的睡眠一样。这对他俩的生活毫无影响，他依然是她的心肝宝贝，只不过他来的次数略少一些，他不同她过夜时，就同伯爵夫人一起过夜。她已经精疲力竭了，轻轻舒了口气，最后说道：

“总之，我觉得我做了一件好事……你会更加爱我的。”寂静又笼罩了房间。她闭起眼睛，躺在枕头上，脸色苍白。现在他听她的话了，说他不愿意让她说话太多，把她弄得很疲劳。整整过了一分钟，她又睁开眼睛，悄声说道：

“再说钱吧，怎么办？如果你发起火来，到哪里去弄钱呢？……昨天拉博德特还来催讨那张本票的钱……我呀，什么也没有，连身上穿的衣服也没有了。”

然后，她又闭上眼睛，像死人一样。缪法的脸上掠过一抹愁云。昨天晚上他受了打击，他把不知怎样摆脱的手头拮据一事忘得一干二净。那张十万法郎的期票，延期过一次，尽管持票人明确答应不转手，还是拿到市场上流通了。拉博德特装得毫无办法，把责任全推给弗朗西斯，说他以后再也不跟没有教养的人打交道了。这笔钱一定要付，伯爵绝不能拒绝支付自己签过字的票据。此外，除了娜娜提出的各种新的要求以外，伯爵家里的花费也很铺张。伯爵夫人从丰岱特回来后，突然变得奢侈起来，产生了上流社会享受的欲望，这种欲望在吞噬着他们的财产。人们在谈论她任性挥霍钱财，公馆里变得焕然一新，花了五十万法郎修缮米罗梅斯尼尔街的那座旧公馆，服装花费极其昂贵，大笔大笔钱不见了，溶化了，也可能送人了，伯爵夫人想不到说一下钱的去向。有两次，伯爵鼓足勇气提出钱的问题，想知道花在何处，可是伯爵夫人微微一笑，用古怪的神情瞅着他，他吓得不敢再问了，担心她回答得太明确了。他所以从娜娜手中接过达盖内作为女婿，是考虑到能把爱斯泰勒的嫁妆减少到二十万法郎，而其它一切筹办均由年轻人负责，自己毋庸操心，这门出乎意料的亲事，他还是挺高兴的。

然而，一个星期以来，缪法为了立即筹足十万法郎来应付拉博德特，他想到只有一个办法，这个办法使他退缩了。那就是卖掉博尔德的住宅，这是一座华丽的住宅，估计值五十万法郎，是伯爵夫人的一个伯父不久前遗赠给她的。不过，遗嘱规定，出卖住宅必须要有她的签字，没有征得伯爵的同意，她也不能转让住宅。昨天晚上，他终于下了决心，想同妻子商谈签字的事，现在一切都完了。在这样的时刻，他决不会接受这样的和解。想到这里，妻子偷汉的事给了他更加可怕的打击。他完全理解娜娜的目的，因为他对她越来越推心置腹，这就使他不管有什么事情都要与她商量，他向她埋怨过自己的处境，他要求伯爵夫人签字的事，他也向她吐露过。

不过，娜娜好像不再坚持自己的意见了，她没有睁开眼睛。他见她脸色那样苍白，便担心起来，叫她吸一点乙醚。她吸了一点，又提了个问题，但没有说出达盖内的名字。

“什么时候举行婚礼？”

“星期二签订婚约，再过五天举行婚礼。”他回答道。

娜娜仍然闭着眼睛，仿佛在夜间谈自己的想法。

“总之，我的宝贝，你要看清你该办的事情……我的愿望是让大家都满意。”

他抓住她的一只手，让她平静下来。是的，走着瞧吧，但是要紧的还是她要好好休息。他不再生气了。这间充满乙醚味的病人卧室是如此温暖，如此宁静，终于使他息怒了，他正需要安静，心情舒畅一下。在这张温暖的床边，坐在他照料着的这个痛苦的女人的身边，她那热忱的激励，唤起了他对往日的肉欲快乐的回忆，他那受到侮辱后大发雷霆的男子汉脾气，渐渐烟消云散了。他向她俯下身子，紧紧搂住她，娜娜脸上却毫无表情，只是嘴角上挂着一丝胜利的微笑。这时候布塔雷大夫来了。

“怎么样啦，这个可爱的孩子？”他亲切地对缪法讲，他以为缪法是她的丈夫，“真见鬼，你让她说了不少话吧。”

医生是个漂亮男子，还很年轻，他常为风流女子中的漂亮女人治病。他性格开朗，像朋友一样对那些女人笑脸相待，但从来不同她们睡觉。他的出诊费收得很高，而且必须分文不少。不过，他总是随叫随到。娜娜每星期总要派人去找他两三次，她一想到死就浑身直打哆嗦，连一些小毛病也惶恐不安地告诉他。他便东拉西扯，胡诌一些故事来逗她，他用这种方式来给她治病。这些女病人都喜欢他。但是这一次，娜娜的病可严重了。

缪法要走时，心情很激动。他看见可怜的娜娜身体那样虚弱，怜悯之心油然而生。缪法走时，她呼唤他回来，把额头伸给他亲吻，接着用开玩笑的口吻低声威胁他：

“你知道允许你做的事情……回去同你的老婆和好，不然我一生气，你什么都完了。”

萨比娜伯爵夫人要求她女儿的婚约在星期二签订，是为了借此机会，庆祝一下油漆未干的公馆修缮竣工。五百张请柬已发出去了，邀请的人中，社会各界人士都有。当天早上，挂毯商才挂帷幔，快到晚九点钟点亮水晶分枝吊灯时，建筑师在心潮激荡的伯爵夫人的陪同下，仍在作最后的指点。

这是春天的一次庆会，富有温和的春天魅力。六月的夜晚，天气炎热，大厅的两扇门全都敞开着，舞会的场地一直延伸到沙土地的花园里。第一批到达的客人，在门口受到伯爵和伯爵夫人的欢迎，他们刚进门就感到眼花缭乱。只要回忆一下过去客厅的情景，人们还记得伯爵夫人一副冷若冰霜的面孔。从前在这间颇具古老风范的客厅里，宗教的肃穆气氛甚浓，笨重的桃花心木家具全是帝国时代的款式，天鹅绒帷幔已经变黄，暗绿色的天花板湿漉漉的。现在可不一样了，刚跨进前厅，映入眼帘的金色画框里的镶嵌画，在高高烛台的蜡烛的光亮照射下烁烁发亮，大理石楼梯的栏杆上，镂刻着精美的花纹。再里面是富丽堂皇的客厅，墙壁上挂着热内亚天鹅绒帷幔，天花板上贴着布歇的一幅巨大的装饰画，这幅画在当皮埃尔古堡出售时，是建筑师用十万法郎买下来的。枝形吊灯和水晶壁灯照亮了豪华气派的一面面镜子和一件件名贵家具。简直可以说，萨比娜的那张长椅子，那张唯一的红绸椅子，过去是软绵绵的，与其它家具很不相称，现在仿佛大了几倍，使整个公馆充满了淫乐、极度享乐的气氛，这种气氛像迟迟燃起的火苗猛烈燃烧着。

大家已经跳舞了。乐队安顿在花园里，一扇敞开的窗户前面，正演奏着华尔兹舞曲，轻快的节奏在空中飘荡，传到客厅变得柔和了。在威尼斯彩灯的照耀下，花园笼罩在一片若明若暗的光线中，看上去仿佛变大了，草坪边沿上搭了一顶紫色帐篷，里面放了一张酒菜台子。这支华尔兹舞曲正是《金发爱神》中那支淫秽的华尔兹，里面还夹杂着淫荡的笑声，舞曲响亮的音波传到这座古老的公馆里，变成一种颤音，仿佛把墙壁都震热了。这支乐曲像是从街上吹来的一股肉欲之风，把这座傲慢的公馆的整个死气沉沉的时代一扫而光，把缪法家族的过去、在天花板下沉睡了一个世纪的荣誉和信仰，吹得无影无踪了。

伯爵母亲的老朋友们呆在壁炉边他们习惯呆的地方，他们仿佛感到是在一个陌生的地方，觉得头晕目眩。他们在不断拥进来的嘈杂的人群中，形成一个圈子。杜·荣古瓦夫人穿过餐厅进来后，已辨认不出那些房间了。尚特罗夫人神色惊讶地瞅着花园，花园似乎大多了。不一会儿，呆在这个角落里的客人便低声议论起来，提出种种尖锐的批评。

“喂，”尚特罗夫人嘟哝道，“要是老伯爵夫人回来一看……她会说什么呢？你们想象一下，她来到这些人中间，会是什么一副样子。搞得这样富丽堂皇，又是这样乱哄哄的……真丢人！”

“萨比娜简直发疯了，”杜·荣古瓦夫人附和道，“刚才你看见她在门口的那副样子吗？瞧，在这里还看得见她……她把她的钻石首饰全都戴上了。”

她俩站起来，从远处打量一会儿伯爵夫妇。萨比娜身穿白色衣服，上面镶着漂亮的英国针钩花边。她洋洋得意，觉得自己很漂亮，她显得年轻、愉快，她不停地微笑，有点自我陶醉了。缪法在她身边，则显得苍老，脸色苍白。他也在微笑，神态安详而庄重。

“想当年他是一家之主，”尚特罗夫人接着说道，“连添置一张小板凳也要得到他的许可！……现在却不同了，一切都改变了，他像在她家里……你还记得吧，她那时候连客厅都不肯装修！现在整个公馆都装修一新了。”

说到这里，她们突然住嘴了，谢泽勒太太进来了，她身后跟着一群小伙子。她出神地看着屋里的一切，悄声赞叹道：

“啊！真漂亮！……多么精致！……真有审美观点！”

接着她远远地对身后那群青年人说道：

“我不是说过嘛！这些古老的破房子，一经装修，可真没话说了……你们觉得很漂亮，是吗？简直像十七世纪的古建筑……萨比娜终于能在里面接待客人了。”

两个老太太又坐下来，压低嗓门，谈论这门令许多人惊讶的婚事。爱丝泰勒刚走过去，她身着玫瑰红绸裙子，还是那样干瘪，那副处女的面孔上毫无表情，她平心静气地接受了达盖内做自己的丈夫，既不显得欢乐，也不显得悲伤，依然像那年冬天向炉子里添木柴时那样表情冷冰冰的，脸色那样苍白。面对这次为她举行的庆祝活动，面对这灯光，这些鲜花，这音乐，她依然无动于衷。

“他是个冒险家，”杜·荣古瓦夫人说道，“我从来没见过他。”

“注意，他来了。”尚特罗夫人低声说道。

达盖内瞥见于贡夫人和她的两个儿子，连忙走上去挽起于贡夫人的胳膊；他笑吟吟的，对她显得很热情，好像他这次交了好运，也有她一份功劳似的。

“谢谢你，”她一边说，一边坐到壁炉旁边，“瞧，这是我原来坐的地方。”

“你认识他吗？”达盖内走后，杜·荣古瓦夫人问道。

“当然认识罗，他是个很有魅力的小伙子。乔治很喜欢他……他出身于一个有门第的家庭。”

好心肠的老太太觉得有人对他怀有敌意，便为他辩护。小伙子的父亲当年很受路易—菲利普的赏识，担任省长一直到逝世为止。小伙子呢，生活上有些挥霍，有人说他是败家子，但是，不管怎么说，他有一个叔父，是个富翁，有朝一日，会把财产留给他的。几位老太太听了直摇头，于贡太太自己也觉得尴尬，总是不断回到他家庭门第的话题上来。她觉得很疲倦，埋怨自己腿疼。她在黎塞留街住了一个月了，据她自己说，那里她有一大堆事情要做。说到这里，她那慈祥母爱的笑脸上，飘过一阵忧郁的阴影。

“不管怎样，”尚特罗夫人最后说道，“爱丝泰勒本来可以结一门比这好得多的亲事。”

铜管乐奏起来了，奏的是四对舞舞曲，人们都拥向客厅的两边，让出中间地方来。女人们的浅色裙子在摆动着，中间夹杂着男人们的黑色礼服；明亮的灯光照在波涛般的人头上，只见珠宝首饰熠熠发光，白色翎毛瑟瑟颤抖，丁香花和玫瑰花竞相开放。天气已经热了，在轻快的乐曲声中，妇女们裸露出洁白的肩膀，从她们穿着的罗纱服和弄皱了的绸缎中散发出一股沁人心脾的芳香。从一扇扇敞开的门望进去，客厅里的一个个房间里坐着一排排妇女，她们暗暗微笑着，眸子里闪着光芒，撅着嘴，手里摇着扇子，扇出的风吹到她们的嘴上。客人们还在不断到来，一个仆人专门通报新到客人的姓名，男人们在人群里慢慢走着，竭力为女伴寻找位置；女人们挽着男人们的胳膊，心里惴惴不安，踮起脚尖，向远处望去，看是否有空椅子。公馆里挤满了客人，裙子碰在一起，发出窸窸窣窣的声音，有些角落里，一大片花边、裙结、裙撑挡住了通道。女人们习惯于令人眼花缭乱的拥挤场合，很有礼貌，能够容忍，仍然不失其风度。这时，一对对男女离开了令人窒息的客厅，跑到花园的深处。那里，威尼斯彩灯发出微弱的粉红色光芒，妇女们的裙子的暗影在草地边上飘拂着，好像伴随着四对舞舞曲的节奏，乐曲声飘到树丛后面，仿佛是从遥远的地方飘来的悦耳的乐曲。

斯泰内刚刚遇到富卡蒙和拉法卢瓦兹，他俩在酒菜台子前喝香槟酒。

“漂亮极啦，”拉法卢瓦兹一边察看着用金色长矛撑着的紫金色帐篷，一边说道，“我们还以为是在香料蜜糖面包集市里……嗯？确实如此，到了香料蜜糖面包集市！”

现在，他总是装成一副玩世不恭的样子，似乎是一个什么都经历过的青年，当今没有什么值得自己严肃对待的了。

“如果旺德夫尔还活着，他会感到惊讶的。”富卡蒙咕哝道，“你还记得吧，他过去在壁炉前那副百无聊赖的样子，真没想到！别嘲笑这里的变化了。”

“旺德夫尔，甭提他了，他是一个失败者！”拉法卢瓦兹轻蔑地说道，“他以为自焚可以令我们震惊，这是大错特错！现在没有人再提他了。旺德夫尔被勾销了，完蛋了，被埋葬了！还是谈谈其他人吧！”

随后，斯泰内走过来同他握手，他又说道：

“你们知道，娜娜刚才来了……啊！伙伴们，看她进来时的样子，简直惊人！她首先拥抱伯爵夫人，然后，新郎新娘走过来，她向他们祝福，并向达盖内说道：‘你听着，保尔，今后，你如果去追求别的女人，我可饶不了你……’怎么？当时你们没有看见这情景！啊！漂亮极了！她装得真像！”

两个男人听得目瞪口呆。最后，他们一起笑了。拉法卢瓦兹很开心，觉得自己很有一套。

“怎么？你们相信真有其事……老天爷！这桩婚事还是娜娜促成的呢。况且她还是这个家中的一员呢。”

于贡兄弟走进来，菲利普叫他不要再说了。这时几个男人谈论起这件婚事。拉法卢瓦兹信口开河，胡说一通，乔治很恼火。娜娜确实把自己过去的一个情人介绍给缪法做女婿，不过，说她昨天晚上还同达盖内睡觉，这是无稽之谈。富卡蒙竟然耸耸肩膀，意思是谁能知道娜娜何时同何人睡觉。乔治盛怒之下回答道：“我，先生，我知道！”他逗得大家哈哈大笑。最后，大家都认为像斯泰内所说的，这是一件永远搞不清楚的事。

酒菜台前的人越来越多，他们让出一些地方，但几个人还呆在一起。拉法卢瓦兹放肆地盯着女人们看，以为自己是在马比耶舞厅里。他们发现韦诺先生同达盖内坐在一条小路的尽头，正在那儿谈话，感到很惊讶。他们信口说了一些笑话，逗得大家哈哈大笑：韦诺先生叫他们忏悔呢，韦诺先生教他们如何度过新婚之夜呢。然后，他们回到客厅的一扇门口。客厅里一对对男女在波尔卡舞曲声中翩翩起舞，他们摇摆着，在站着的男人中间，留下一阵风。从外面吹进来的微风，把蜡烛的火焰吹得直蹿。每当一条长裙随着舞曲的轻快旋律飘忽而过时，就卷起一阵风，把水晶吊灯上散发出来的热气驱散了。

“哎！他们在里面不冷！”拉法卢瓦兹嘟哝道。

他们从花园的神秘阴影中走出来，眨着眼睛。他们看见德·舒阿尔侯爵一个人站在一群妇女当中，他身材高大，俯视着周围裸露的肩膀，他脸色苍白，神态严肃，在稀疏的银发下面，露出一副高傲而尊严的神态。他对缪法伯爵的行为很气愤，已经公开宣布与他断绝关系，并声称不再到这座公馆来了。今天晚上他所以同意来这里，是因为他外孙女执意要他来。他是不赞成这件婚事的，并用愤怒的言词攻击统治阶级对现代荒淫生活的可耻迁就，认为这样做会导致统治阶级的垮台。

“啊！完蛋了，”杜·荣古瓦夫人对尚特罗夫人耳语道，“那个婊子把这个可怜的伯爵迷住了，从前我们知道他是那样虔诚，那样高贵！”

“他似乎快要倾家荡产了，”尚特罗夫人接着说道，“我丈夫手里有过他一张借据……他现在住在维里埃大街的那座公馆里。全巴黎的人都在谈论这件事……我的天哪！我不能原谅萨比娜；不过，你也得承认，是他给她留下许多话柄，哎！如果萨比娜也任意挥霍钱财……”

“她何止只挥霍钱财！”杜·荣古瓦夫人打断她的话，说道，“总之，两个人一起挥霍，他们就破产得更快些……他们陷进泥潭里了，亲爱的。”

这时，一个温柔的声音打断了她们的谈话。原来是韦诺先生，他就坐在她们后面，他好像要把自己隐藏起来，他向她们探过头来，嘟哝道：

“为什么要说泄气话呢？一切都要毁灭时，上帝就会显灵的。”

过去他曾管理过这个家，现在他看着它衰败下去，却无动于衷。自从他住过丰岱特庄园以后，他就听任邪恶行为发展，他明白自己无能为力。他什么都能接受，伯爵对娜娜的迷恋，福什利呆在伯爵夫人身边，甚至爱丝泰勒同达盖内的结合。这些事情无关紧要！他表现得更加灵活，更加神秘，现在他有一个想法，希望控制这对新婚夫妇能像控制已经关系破裂的夫妻一样。他知道大乱会带来对宗教的虔诚，到时天主会显灵的。

“我们的朋友缪法伯爵，”他继续低声说道，“他总是对宗教怀着美好的感情……他向我提供了最好的证据。”

“那么，”杜·荣古瓦夫人说道，“他应该首先和他的妻子和好。”

“当然罗……正是这样，我希望他们早日和解。”

于是，两位太太就诘问他。但他又变得谦逊起来，这得由上天来安排。他想让伯爵与伯爵夫人和解，是为了避免一件丑闻张扬到公众中去，只要人们按照礼仪行事，宗教是会宽恕他们很多过错的。

“总之，”杜·荣古瓦太太又说，“你应当阻止这位冒险家的婚姻。”

矮老头子脸上露出异常惊讶的神色。

“你错了，达盖内先生是一位有很大长处的青年……我很了解他的想法，他希望人家忘掉他青年时代的错误。你尽可放心，爱丝泰勒会引导他走上正路的。”

“嘿！爱丝泰勒！”尚特罗夫人轻蔑地说道，“我觉得这个小姑娘意志薄弱，她是无能为力的！”

韦诺先生听了这种意见，莞尔一笑。他不想对新娘子的事多作解释。他闭上眼睛，似乎对此事毫无兴趣，他又走到他的角落里，消失在许多裙子后面。于贡太太虽然有些疲劳，心不在焉，却也听见了几句。德·舒阿尔侯爵向她打招呼，她带着宽容的神态以下结论的口气对他说道：

“这两位太太也太苛求了。大家的生活太苦了……对吗，我的朋友？一个人想得到别人的宽容，就应该宽容别人。”

侯爵尴尬了一阵，生怕于贡太太的话是指桑骂槐。但是他看见善良的老太太露出了忧郁的笑容，便恢复了常态，对她说道：

“不，有些错误是不能宽容的……社会就因为迁就错误，才在走向深渊。”

舞会进行得正热闹。又开始跳一轮四对舞，客厅的地板在微微颤动，这座古老的住宅在这欢乐的震撼下似乎要塌陷了。在一片模糊、攒动的人头中，不时看到一张女人的面孔，她随着舞曲旋转，目光炯炯有神，嘴唇微微张开，水晶吊灯照亮了她白皙的皮肤。杜·荣古瓦夫人说，真是丧失了理智，在一座勉强容纳两百人的屋子里，却请来五百客人，简直发疯了。既然这样，为什么不到卡鲁塞广场上去举行订婚仪式呢？尚特罗夫人说，这是受新风俗的影响，从前这样的隆重仪式，只有家里人参加，可是现在呢，一些不相干的人都要来，一条街上的人都可以随便来，不挤成这样子，似乎晚会就显得冷冷清清。现在的人总是摆阔气，把巴黎的社会渣滓都请到家里来，来的人如此混杂，日后家风败坏，不是很自然的事吗？这些太太埋怨道，她们认识的客人不超过五十人。那么多人究竟是从哪里来的呢？一些年轻姑娘穿得袒胸露肩。一个女人在她的发髻上插了一把金匕首，身着一件镶黑珠子的上衣，颇像一件锁子甲。大家微笑着瞧着另一个女人，她大胆得出奇，裙子紧紧裹在身上，样子很古怪。冬末的豪华服装都在这里展现了。出席者有的是声色犬马圈子里的人物，凡是女主人有一面之交的人都被邀请来了，大家聚集一堂，有大名鼎鼎之士，也有声名狼藉之徒，他们的共同兴趣就是尽情享乐。屋子里越来越热，在挤满人的客厅中间，四对舞的舞步既有节奏又对称。

“伯爵夫人真漂亮！”站在花园门口的拉法卢瓦兹说道，“她仿佛比她的女儿小十岁……对了，富卡蒙，旺德夫尔打过赌，说她没有屁股，你说呢。”

这种下流的话使在场的男人们大为反感。富卡蒙只回答道：

“还是去问你的表哥吧，亲爱的，他正好来了。”

“哟！我有一个好主意，”拉法卢瓦兹叫道，“我用十个金路易打赌，她有屁股。”

福什利果然来了。他是这里的常客，他怕各道门口人挤，便从饭厅绕个圈子进来。初冬时候，他又被罗丝勾引上了，他同时与那个女演员和伯爵夫人相好，搞得疲乏不堪，不知道甩掉哪一个为好。萨比娜能满足他的虚荣心，罗丝则更讨他的欢心。何况罗丝真情爱他，对他像妻子对待丈夫那样温柔，这使米尼翁大伤脑筋。

“你听着，向你打听一个情况，”拉法卢瓦兹一边紧紧抓住表哥的胳膊，一边说，“你看见那个穿白绸衣服的太太了吗？”

拉法卢瓦兹自从继承了那笔遗产后，便变得傲慢而放肆，经常故意奚落福什利，因为他从外省初来巴黎时，受尽福什利的嘲弄，现在他想报复一下，以解心中宿怨。

“是的，就是那个衣服上镶着花边的太太。”

新闻记者踮起脚尖张望，还弄不清他的话的含义。

“她是伯爵夫人。”福什利终于说道。

“正是她，我的好表哥……我曾经用十个金路易与人家打赌，赌她究竟有没有屁股？”

说完，他哈哈大笑，心里很高兴，终于教训了福什利这家伙，福什利以前问过他，伯爵夫人是不是不与任何人睡觉，把他问得目瞪口呆。可是这一次，福什利丝毫不感到惊讶，只是眼睛盯着他看。

“滚开吧，你这蠢货！”福什利耸耸肩膀，终于说道。

随后，福什利同在场的几位先生一一握手，这时拉法卢瓦兹显得很狼狈，他不再觉得自己说过的话有风趣味道了。大家闲聊起来。自从那次赛马以后，银行家斯泰内和富卡蒙也加入了维里埃大街的那一伙。娜娜的病渐渐好了，伯爵每天晚上都要来向她问长问短。福什利在听别人谈话时，好像忧心忡忡。今天早上他同罗丝发生了口角，罗丝直截了当地承认自己把那封信寄出去了；是的，他可以到他的那个上流社会的夫人家里去了，他会受到很好的接待。他迟疑了很长时间，最后，还是鼓足勇气来了。但是拉法卢瓦兹同他开了一个愚蠢的玩笑，使他心里忐忑不安，尽管他表面上好像若无其事。

“你怎么啦？”菲利普问他道，“你好像不舒服嘛。”

“我吗，一点没有不舒服……我因为有事，所以来迟了。”

然后，他带着一种勇气冷静地说道，这种勇气往往被人忽视，却能化解生活中的常见悲剧：

“我还没有向男女主人问候呢……一个人应该懂礼貌嘛。”

他甚至对着拉法卢瓦兹，大胆同他开玩笑：

“笨蛋，你说对吧？”

说完，他就从人群中挤出去。听差不再撕破嗓门通报客人的姓名了。不过，伯爵和伯爵夫人被刚进来的几个妇女拉住，站在门口同她们交谈。福什利终于走到她们那里，几位先生仍然站在花园的石阶上，个个伸长脑袋，想看看他们见面时的这一幕情景。娜娜大概搬弄了是非。

“伯爵没有看见他，”乔治悄悄说道，“注意！他转身了……

看到了。”

乐队又奏起了《金发爱神》中的华尔兹乐曲。福什利首先向伯爵夫人行了礼，她满面笑容，神态显得平静而快乐。接着，他一动不动地在伯爵身后呆了一阵子，静静地等待着。这天晚上，伯爵保持高傲庄重的神态，高昂着头，显出一副高官显贵的派头。当他低下眼睛瞧着新闻记者时，摆出一副更加庄严的神态。两个男人互相瞧了一阵子。福什利首先伸出手来，随后缪法也伸出手来。他们的手握在一起了，萨比娜伯爵夫人在他俩面前嫣然一笑，睫毛低垂着，那支华尔兹舞曲继续奏出嘲讽、放荡的旋律。

“他们自动和解啦。”斯泰内说道。

“他们的手粘在一起了吗？”富卡蒙问道，他见他们握手时间那么长，觉得挺奇怪。

福什利的脑海里不由自主地浮现了一件往事，这使他苍白的面颊上泛起了红晕。他仿佛又看见了那间道具仓库，那暗绿色的光线，杂乱无章的道具上都积满了灰尘；缪法站在那里，手里拿着蛋杯，满腹疑虑。可是，此时此刻，缪法不再疑虑了，他的尊严的最后一个角落也崩溃了。福什利松了口气，不再惧怕了，他见伯爵夫人那样爽朗快乐，真想大笑一阵。这个场面在他看来很滑稽。

“啊！这次她真的来了！”拉法卢瓦兹嚷道，凡是他觉得逗趣的话，就会脱口而出，“娜娜在那儿，你们看见她了吗？”

“住嘴！笨蛋！”菲利普低声说。

“我不是对你们说过吗！那支华尔兹乐曲就是为她而演奏的，她当然来了！……怎么！你们没有看见！她把我表哥、我表嫂和伯爵夫人的丈夫都搂在怀里，还把他们称为她的小猫儿，这样家人团聚的场面，真令我作呕。”

爱丝泰勒走过来了。福什利向她说了几句恭维话。她穿着一件粉红色裙子，身子直挺挺的，像个沉默寡言的孩子，用惊讶的目光瞅着福什利，同时瞧她的父母亲。达盖内也同新闻记者热情握手。他们聚集在一起，脸上堆满微笑，韦诺先生悄悄走到他们后面，用愉快的目光看着他们，对他们充满虔诚而温情的爱，为他们终于互相信任而高兴，认为这就为实现天意铺平了道路。

在华尔兹舞曲声中，人们继续欢乐地跳着。越来越高的欢乐气氛像上涨的潮水冲击着这座古老的公馆。乐队里的短笛奏出颤音，小提琴像在低声叹息；在热亚娜丝绒帷幔下，金碧辉煌的彩绘和水晶吊灯散发出腾腾热气，宛如阳光中的灰尘。成群的客人照映在镜子里，像多了几倍，他们说话的声音越来越高，仿佛人数还在不断增加。在客厅四周，一对对男女搂着腰肢，在坐着观看的面带笑容的妇女前面旋转着，把地板震动得更厉害了。在花园里，威尼斯彩灯发出红红的灯光，犹如远处一场大火的反光，照亮了在小路尽头呼吸新鲜空气的散步者的身影。墙壁在震动，灯光似红云，仿佛最后一场大火在公馆的每个角落熊熊燃烧着，古老家族的荣誉在大火中被烧得噼噼啪啪作响。四月的一个晚上，福什利在这里听到水晶玻璃摔破的声音，这种破碎声越来越厉害，简直达到疯狂的程度，进而发展到举行今天的欢庆会。现在裂缝变大，裂缝遍及整个公馆，预示它即将倒塌。那些住在郊区的酒鬼，是因为他们嗜酒成性，把大笔钱财挥霍殆尽，弄得一贫如洗，连面包也吃不上，被他们糟蹋的家庭才最后完蛋的。而在这里，则是华尔兹舞曲敲响了这个古老家族的丧钟，把积聚起来的财富付之一炬。大家没有见到的娜娜把她柔软的四肢伸展在舞会的上空，使他们腐烂解体，她身上的香味飘逸在热空气中，随着音乐的放荡的旋律，像酵素一样渗透到他们的肌体中。

在教堂举行婚礼的那天晚上，缪法伯爵进了他妻子的卧室，他已经两年没有跨进这间房间了。伯爵夫人起初很惊讶，向后退了一下。但是她仍然微笑着，这种如痴如醉的微笑一直挂在她的脸上。伯爵觉得尴尬，结结巴巴说不出话来。于是，伯爵夫人教训了他几句。不过，他们两人谁也不敢把话说得明白。这种互相谅解是出于宗教上的考虑，他们认为彼此心照不宣，各人保持自己的自由为好。到了要上床睡觉时，伯爵夫人还犹豫不决，便谈到卖房地产的事情。伯爵先开口，他说要把博尔德庄园卖掉，伯爵夫人马上欣然同意了。他们都迫切需要钱，卖的钱两人平分。这件事使他们终于和解了。缪法本来心里很内疚，现在感到真正轻松了。

就在这一天，约摸下午两点钟，娜娜正在睡觉，佐爱竟冒昧地敲她卧室的门。窗帘垂落着，一股暖风吹进凉爽、静悄悄的卧室，室内的光线若明若暗。娜娜现在已能起床了，身体还有点虚弱。她睁开眼睛，问道：

“是谁？”

佐爱正要回答，达盖内强行进来了，他报了自己的姓名。娜娜立刻把身子支在枕头上，接着把女仆打发走，并说道：

“怎么，原来是你！今天是你结婚的日子！……你来干什么？”

他刚进黑暗的房间，还很不适应，只好站在屋子中央。不过，他很快就适应了，并向娜娜走过去。他身穿礼服，打着领带，戴着白手套。他连连说道：

“是呀，对，是我……怎么，你想不起来啦？”

是的，娜娜一点也想不起来了。他只好用开玩笑的神情直截了当地说道：

“我是来答谢你给我当媒人的……我把我的童贞初夜带给你。”

达盖内走到床边时，娜娜伸出赤裸的胳膊搂住他，她笑得浑身发抖，差点流出泪来，她觉得达盖内太可爱了。

“啊！这个咪味，真滑稽！……他还想得到，我倒忘得干干净净了！那么，你出了教堂，就溜掉了。一点不错，你身上还有一股圣香味呢……吻我吧！啊！使点劲，我的咪咪！吻吧，这也许是最后一次了。”

光线幽暗的卧室里，还可隐约闻到一股乙醚气味，他们温情的笑声停止了，一股热风吹拂着窗帘，他们听见街上孩子们的喧闹声。随后，由于时间急迫，他们笑闹了一会就分手了。达盖内在冷餐酒会后，立即同妻子出发旅行去了

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