She was speaking of Daguenet.  In the self-abandonment of her awakening she had no secrets from Zoe, and the latter, inured to such confidences, received them with respectful sympathy.  Since Madame condescended to speak to her of her affairs she would permit herself to say what she thought.  Besides, she was very fond of Madame; she had left Mme Blanche for the express purpose of taking service with her, and heaven knew Mme Blanche was straining every nerve to have her again!  Situations weren’t lacking; she was pretty well known, but she would have stayed with Madame even in narrow circumstances, because she believed in Madame’s future.  And she concluded by stating her advice with precision.  When one was young one often did silly things.  But this time it was one’s duty to look alive, for the men only thought of having their fun.  Oh dear, yes!  Things would right themselves.  Madame had only to say one word in order to quiet her creditors and find the money she stood in need of.

“All that doesn’t help me to three hundred francs,” Nana kept repeating as she plunged her fingers into the vagrant convolutions of her back hair.  “I must have three hundred francs today, at once!  It’s stupid not to know anyone who’ll give you three hundred francs.”

She racked her brains.  She would have sent Mme Lerat, whom she was expecting that very morning, to Rambouillet.  The counteraction of her sudden fancy spoiled for her the triumph of last night.  Among all those men who had cheered her, to think that there wasn’t one to bring her fifteen louis!  And then one couldn’t accept money in that way!  Dear heaven, how unfortunate she was!  And she kept harking back again to the subject of her baby—­he had blue eyes like a cherub’s; he could lisp “Mamma” in such a funny voice that you were ready to die of laughing!

But at this moment the electric bell at the outer door was heard to ring with its quick and tremulous vibration.  Zoe returned, murmuring with a confidential air: 

“It’s a woman.”

She had seen this woman a score of times, only she made believe never to recognize her and to be quite ignorant of the nature of her relations with ladies in difficulties.

“She has told me her name—­Madame Tricon.”

“The Tricon,” cried Nana.  “Dear me!  That’s true.  I’d forgotten her.  Show her in.”

Zoe ushered in a tall old lady who wore ringlets and looked like a countess who haunts lawyers’ offices.  Then she effaced herself, disappearing noiselessly with the lithe, serpentine movement wherewith she was wont to withdraw from a room on the arrival of a gentleman.  However, she might have stayed.  The Tricon did not even sit down.  Only a brief exchange of words took place.

“I have someone for you today.  Do you care about it?”

“Yes.  How much?”

“Twenty louis.”

“At what o’clock?”

“At three.  It’s settled then?”