“Oh, it’s smashed!”

Then she burst out laughing.  The fragments lying on the floor tickled her fancy.  Her merriment was of the nervous kind, the stupid, spiteful laughter of a child who delights in destruction.  Philippe had a little fit of disgust, for the wretched girl did not know what anguish this curio had cost him.  Seeing him thoroughly upset, she tried to contain herself.

“Gracious me, it isn’t my fault!  It was cracked; those old things barely hold together.  Besides, it was the cover!  Didn’t you see the bound it gave?”

And she once more burst into uproarious mirth.

But though he made an effort to the contrary, tears appeared in the young man’s eyes, and with that she flung her arms tenderly round his neck.

“How silly you are!  You know I love you all the same.  If one never broke anything the tradesmen would never sell anything.  All that sort of thing’s made to be broken.  Now look at this fan; it’s only held together with glue!”

She had snatched up a fan and was dragging at the blades so that the silk was torn in two.  This seemed to excite her, and in order to show that she scorned the other presents, the moment she had ruined his she treated herself to a general massacre, rapping each successive object and proving clearly that not one was solid in that she had broken them all.  There was a lurid glow in her vacant eyes, and her lips, slightly drawn back, displayed her white teeth.  Soon, when everything was in fragments, she laughed cheerily again and with flushed cheeks beat on the table with the flat of her hands, lisping like a naughty little girl: 

“All over!  Got no more!  Got no more!”

Then Philippe was overcome by the same mad excitement, and, pushing her down, he merrily kissed her bosom.  She abandoned herself to him and clung to his shoulders with such gleeful energy that she could not remember having enjoyed herself so much for an age past.  Without letting go of him she said caressingly: 

“I say, dearie, you ought certainly to bring me ten louis tomorrow.  It’s a bore, but there’s the baker’s bill worrying me awfully.”

He had grown pale.  Then imprinting a final kiss on her forehead, he said simply: 

“I’ll try.”

Silence reigned.  She was dressing, and he stood pressing his forehead against the windowpanes.  A minute passed, and he returned to her and deliberately continued: 

“Nana, you ought to marry me.”

This notion straightway so tickled the young woman that she was unable to finish tying on her petticoats.

“My poor pet, you’re ill!  D’you offer me your hand because I ask you for ten louis?  No, never!  I’m too fond of you.  Good gracious, what a silly question!”

And as Zoe entered in order to put her boots on, they ceased talking of the matter.  The lady’s maid at once espied the presents lying broken in pieces on the table.  She asked if she should put these things away, and, Madame having bidden her get rid of them, she carried the whole collection off in the folds of her dress.  In the kitchen a sorting-out process began, and Madame’s debris were shared among the servants.