“I remember him perfectly,” replied Satin.  “I recollect the big courtyard at your place very well.  There was a portress there with a broom!”

“Mother Boche—­she’s dead.”

“And I can still picture your shop.  Your mother was a great fatty.  One evening when we were playing your father came in drunk.  Oh, so drunk!”

At this point Vandeuvres tried to intercept the ladies’ reminiscences and to effect a diversion,

“I say, my dear, I should be very glad to have some more truffles.  They’re simply perfect.  Yesterday I had some at the house of the Duc de Corbreuse, which did not come up to them at all.”

“The truffles, Julien!” said Nana roughly.

Then returning to the subject: 

“By Jove, yes, Dad hadn’t any sense!  And then what a smash there was!  You should have seen it—­down, down, down we went, starving away all the time.  I can tell you I’ve had to bear pretty well everything and it’s a miracle I didn’t kick the bucket over it, like Daddy and Mamma.”

This time Muffat, who was playing with his knife in a state of infinite exasperation, made so bold as to intervene.

“What you’re telling us isn’t very cheerful.”

“Eh, what?  Not cheerful!” she cried with a withering glance.  “I believe you; it isn’t cheerful!  Somebody had to earn a living for us dear boy.  Oh yes, you know, I’m the right sort; I don’t mince matters.  Mamma was a laundress; Daddy used to get drunk, and he died of it!  There!  If it doesn’t suit you—­if you’re ashamed of my family—­”

They all protested.  What was she after now?  They had every sort of respect for her family!  But she went on: 

“If you’re ashamed of my family you’ll please leave me, because I’m not one of those women who deny their father and mother.  You must take me and them together, d’you understand?”

They took her as required; they accepted the dad, the mamma, the past; in fact, whatever she chose.  With their eyes fixed on the tablecloth, the four now sat shrinking and insignificant while Nana, in a transport of omnipotence, trampled on them in the old muddy boots worn long since in the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or.  She was determined not to lay down the cudgels just yet.  It was all very fine to bring her fortunes, to build her palaces; she would never leave off regretting the time when she munched apples!  Oh, what bosh that stupid thing money was!  It was made for the tradespeople!  Finally her outburst ended in a sentimentally expressed desire for a simple, openhearted existence, to be passed in an atmosphere of universal benevolence.

When she got to this point she noticed Julien waiting idly by.

“Well, what’s the matter?  Hand the champagne then!” she said.  “Why d’you stand staring at me like a goose?”

During this scene the servants had never once smiled.  They apparently heard nothing, and the more their mistress let herself down, the more majestic they became.  Julien set to work to pour out the champagne and did so without mishap, but Francois, who was handing round the fruit, was so unfortunate as to tilt the fruit dish too low, and the apples, the pears and the grapes rolled on the table.