She thought him very droll and was greatly entertained.  At one moment she conceived the idea of sending Georges with a glass of champagne to Rose Mignon, who was affecting temperance.  Henri and Charles were bored to distraction; they would have been glad of some champagne, the poor little fellows.  But Georges drank the glassful, for he feared an argument.  Then Nana remembered Louiset, who was sitting forgotten behind her.  Maybe he was thirsty, and she forced him to take a drop or two of wine, which made him cough dreadfully.

“’Ere y’are, ’ere y’are, gemmen!” La Faloise reiterated.  “It don’t cost two sous; it don’t cost one.  We give it away.”

But Nana broke in with an exclamation: 

“Gracious, there’s Bordenave down there!  Call him.  Oh, run, please, please do!”

It was indeed Bordenave.  He was strolling about with his hands behind his back, wearing a hat that looked rusty in the sunlight and a greasy frock coat that was glossy at the seams.  It was Bordenave shattered by bankruptcy, yet furious despite all reverses, a Bordenave who flaunted his misery among all the fine folks with the hardihood becoming a man ever ready to take Dame Fortune by storm.

“The deuce, how smart we are!” he said when Nana extended her hand to him like the good-natured wench she was.

Presently, after emptying a glass of champagne, he gave vent to the following profoundly regretful phrase: 

“Ah, if only I were a woman!  But, by God, that’s nothing!  Would you like to go on the stage again?  I’ve a notion:  I’ll hire the Gaite, and we’ll gobble up Paris between us.  You certainly owe it me, eh?”

And he lingered, grumbling, beside her, though glad to see her again; for, he said, that confounded Nana was balm to his feelings.  Yes, it was balm to them merely to exist in her presence!  She was his daughter; she was blood of his blood!

The circle increased, for now La Faloise was filling glasses, and Georges and Philippe were picking up friends.  A stealthy impulse was gradually bringing in the whole field.  Nana would fling everyone a laughing smile or an amusing phrase.  The groups of tipplers were drawing near, and all the champagne scattered over the place was moving in her direction.  Soon there was only one noisy crowd, and that was round her landau, where she queened it among outstretched glasses, her yellow hair floating on the breeze and her snowy face bathed in the sunshine.  Then by way of a finishing touch and to make the other women, who were mad at her triumph, simply perish of envy, she lifted a brimming glass on high and assumed her old pose as Venus Victrix.

But somebody touched her shoulder, and she was surprised, on turning round, to see Mignon on the seat.  She vanished from view an instant and sat herself down beside him, for he had come to communicate a matter of importance.  Mignon had everywhere declared that it was ridiculous of his wife to bear Nana a grudge; he thought her attitude stupid and useless.