and this would prove very useful as pocket money.  In those days he was finishing the last of his fortune in an access of burning, feverish folly.  His horses and Lucy had devoured three of his farms, and at one gulp Nana was going to swallow his last chateau, near Amiens.  He seemed in a hurry to sweep everything away, down to the ruins of the old tower built by a Vandeuvres under Philip Augustus.  He was mad for ruin and thought it a great thing to leave the last golden bezants of his coat of arms in the grasp of this courtesan, whom the world of Paris desired.  He, too, accepted Nana’s conditions, leaving her entire freedom of action and claiming her caresses only on certain days.  He was not even naively impassioned enough to require her to make vows.  Muffat suspected nothing.  As to Vandeuvres, he knew things would take place for a certainty, but he never made the least allusion to them and pretended total ignorance, while his lips wore the subtle smile of the skeptical man of pleasure who does not seek the impossible, provided he can have his day and that Paris is aware of it.

From that time forth Nana’s house was really properly appointed.  The staff of servants was complete in the stable, in the kitchen and in my lady’s chamber.  Zoe organized everything and passed successfully through the most unforeseen difficulties.  The household moved as easily as the scenery in a theater and was regulated like a grand administrative concern.  Indeed, it worked with such precision that during the early months there were no jars and no derangements.  Madame, however, pained Zoe extremely with her imprudent acts, her sudden fits of unwisdom, her mad bravado.  Still the lady’s maid grew gradually lenient, for she had noticed that she made increased profits in seasons of wanton waste when Madame had committed a folly which must be made up for.  It was then that the presents began raining on her, and she fished up many a louis out of the troubled waters.

One morning when Muffat had not yet left the bedroom Zoe ushered a gentleman into the dressing room, where Nana was changing her underwear.  He was trembling violently.

“Good gracious!  It’s Zizi!” said the young woman in great astonishment.

It was, indeed, Georges.  But when he saw her in her shift, with her golden hair over her bare shoulders, he threw his arms round her neck and round her waist and kissed her in all directions.  She began struggling to get free, for she was frightened, and in smothered tones she stammered: 

“Do leave off!  He’s there!  Oh, it’s silly of you!  And you, Zoe, are you out of your senses?  Take him away and keep him downstairs; I’ll try and come down.”