On the evening after the celebration of the church marriage Count Muffat made his appearance in his wife’s bedroom, where he had not entered for the last two years.  At first, in her great surprise, the countess drew back from him.  But she was still smiling the intoxicated smile which she now always wore.  He began stammering in extreme embarrassment; whereupon she gave him a short moral lecture.  However, neither of them risked a decisive explanation.  It was religion, they pretended, which required this process of mutual forgiveness, and they agreed by a tacit understanding to retain their freedom.  Before going to bed, seeing that the countess still appeared to hesitate, they had a business conversation, and the count was the first to speak of selling the Bordes.  She consented at once.  They both stood in great want of money, and they would share and share alike.  This completed the reconciliation, and Muffat, remorseful though he was, felt veritably relieved.

That very day, as Nana was dozing toward two in the afternoon, Zoe made so bold as to knock at her bedroom door.  The curtains were drawn to, and a hot breath of wind kept blowing through a window into the fresh twilight stillness within.  During these last days the young woman had been getting up and about again, but she was still somewhat weak.  She opened her eyes and asked: 

“Who is it?”

Zoe was about to reply, but Daguenet pushed by her and announced himself in person.  Nana forthwith propped herself up on her pillow and, dismissing the lady’s maid: 

“What!  Is that you?” she cried.  “On the day of your marriage?  What can be the matter?”

Taken aback by the darkness, he stood still in the middle of the room.  However, he grew used to it and came forward at last.  He was in evening dress and wore a white cravat and gloves.

“Yes, to be sure, it’s me!” he said.  “You don’t remember?”

No, she remembered nothing, and in his chaffing way he had to offer himself frankly to her.

“Come now, here’s your commission.  I’ve brought you the handsel of my innocence!”

And with that, as he was now by the bedside, she caught him in her bare arms and shook with merry laughter and almost cried, she thought it so pretty of him.

“Oh, that Mimi, how funny he is!  He’s thought of it after all!  And to think I didn’t remember it any longer!  So you’ve slipped off; you’re just out of church.  Yes, certainly, you’ve got a scent of incense about you.  But kiss me, kiss me!  Oh, harder than that, Mimi dear!  Bah!  Perhaps it’s for the last time.”

In the dim room, where a vague odor of ether still lingered, their tender laughter died away suddenly.  The heavy, warm breeze swelled the window curtains, and children’s voices were audible in the avenue without.  Then the lateness of the hour tore them asunder and set them joking again.  Daguenet took his departure with his wife directly after the breakfast.