in order to oblige his lady clients.  The count put himself into the hands of these gentlemen but expressed a formal desire not to appear in the matter, and they both undertook to keep in hand the bill for a hundred thousand francs which he was to sign, excusing themselves at the same time for charging a matter of twenty thousand francs interest and loudly denouncing the blackguard usurers to whom, they declared, it had been necessary to have recourse.  When Muffat had himself announced, Francis was putting the last touches to Nana’s coiffure.  Labordette also was sitting familiarly in the dressing room, as became a friend of no consequence.  Seeing the count, he discreetly placed a thick bundle of bank notes among the powders and pomades, and the bill was signed on the marble-topped dressing table.  Nana was anxious to keep Labordette to dinner, but he declined—­he was taking a rich foreigner about Paris.  Muffat, however, led him aside and begged him to go to Becker, the jeweler, and bring him back thence the set of sapphires, which he wanted to present the young woman by way of surprise that very evening.  Labordette willingly undertook the commission, and half an hour later Julien handed the jewel case mysteriously to the count.

During dinnertime Nana was nervous.  The sight of the eighty thousand francs had excited her.  To think all that money was to go to tradespeople!  It was a disgusting thought.  After soup had been served she grew sentimental, and in the splendid dining room, glittering with plate and glass, she talked of the bliss of poverty.  The men were in evening dress, Nana in a gown of white embroidered satin, while Satin made a more modest appearance in black silk with a simple gold heart at her throat, which was a present from her kind friend.  Julien and Francois waited behind the guests and were assisted in this by Zoe.  All three looked most dignified.

“It’s certain I had far greater fun when I hadn’t a cent!” Nana repeated.

She had placed Muffat on her right hand and Vandeuvres on her left, but she scarcely looked at them, so taken up was she with Satin, who sat in state between Philippe and Georges on the opposite side of the table.

“Eh, duckie?” she kept saying at every turn.  “How we did use to laugh in those days when we went to Mother Josse’s school in the Rue Polonceau!”

When the roast was being served the two women plunged into a world of reminiscences.  They used to have regular chattering fits of this kind when a sudden desire to stir the muddy depths of their childhood would possess them.  These fits always occurred when men were present:  it was as though they had given way to a burning desire to treat them to the dunghill on which they had grown to woman’s estate.  The gentlemen paled visibly and looked embarrassed.  The young Hugons did their best to laugh, while Vandeuvres nervously toyed with his beard and Muffat redoubled his gravity.

“You remember Victor?” said Nana.  “There was a wicked little fellow for you!  Why, he used to take the little girls into cellars!”