Then Foucarmont, being now in his witty vein, attacked Labordette right at the other end of the table.  Louise Violaine strove to make him hold his tongue, for, she said, “when he goes nagging at other people like that it always ends in mischief for me.”  He had discovered a witticism which consisted in addressing Labordette as “Madame,” and it must have amused him greatly, for he kept on repeating it while Labordette tranquilly shrugged his shoulders and as constantly replied: 

“Pray hold your tongue, my dear fellow; it’s stupid.”

But as Foucarmont failed to desist and even became insulting without his neighbors knowing why, he left off answering him and appealed to Count Vandeuvres.

“Make your friend hold his tongue, monsieur.  I don’t wish to become angry.”

Foucarmont had twice fought duels, and he was in consequence most politely treated and admitted into every circle.  But there was now a general uprising against him.  The table grew merry at his sallies, for they thought him very witty, but that was no reason why the evening should be spoiled.  Vandeuvres, whose subtle countenance was darkening visibly, insisted on his restoring Labordette his sex.  The other men—­Mignon, Steiner and Bordenave—­who were by this time much exalted, also intervened with shouts which drowned his voice.  Only the old gentleman sitting forgotten next to Nana retained his stately demeanor and, still smiling in his tired, silent way, watched with lackluster eyes the untoward finish of the dessert.

“What do you say to our taking coffee in here, duckie?” said Bordenave.  “We’re very comfortable.”

Nana did not give an immediate reply.  Since the beginning of supper she had seemed no longer in her own house.  All this company had overwhelmed and bewildered her with their shouts to the waiters, the loudness of their voices and the way in which they put themselves at their ease, just as though they were in a restaurant.  Forgetting her role of hostess, she busied herself exclusively with bulky Steiner, who was verging on apoplexy beside her.  She was listening to his proposals and continually refusing them with shakes of the head and that temptress’s laughter which is peculiar to a voluptuous blonde.  The champagne she had been drinking had flushed her a rosy-red; her lips were moist; her eyes sparkled, and the banker’s offers rose with every kittenish movement of her shoulders, with every little voluptuous lift and fall of her throat, which occurred when she turned her head.  Close by her ear he kept espying a sweet little satiny corner which drove him crazy.  Occasionally Nana was interrupted, and then, remembering her guests, she would try and be as pleased as possible in order to show that she knew how to receive.  Toward the end of the supper she was very tipsy.  It made her miserable to think of it, but champagne had a way of intoxicating her almost directly!  Then an exasperating notion struck her.  In behaving