to having met her in Russia. A legend began to be formed: she was the mistress of a prince, and her diamonds were mentioned. All the women were soon acquainted with them from the current descriptions, but nobody could cite the precise source of all this information. There were finger rings, earrings, bracelets, a REVIERE of phenomenal width, a queenly diadem surmounted by a central brilliant the size of one's thumb. In the retirement of those faraway countries she began to gleam forth as mysteriously as a gem-laden idol. People now mentioned her without laughing, for they were full of meditative respect for this fortune acquired among the barbarians.
One evening in July toward eight o'clock, Lucy, while getting out of her carriage in the Rue du Faubourg Saint- Honore, noticed Caroline Hequet, who had come out on foot to order something at a neighboring tradesman's. Lucy called her and at once burst out with:
'Have you dined? Are you disengaged? Oh, then come with me, my dear. Nana's back.'
The other got in at once, and Lucy continued:
'And you know, my dear, she may be dead while we're gossiping.'
'Dead! What an idea!' cried Caroline in stupefaction. 'And where is she? And what's it of?'
'At the Grand Hotel, of smallpox. Oh, it's a long story!'
Lucy had bidden her coachman drive fast, and while the horses trotted rapidly along the Rue Royale and the boulevards, she told what had happened to Nana in jerky, breathless sentences.
'You can't imagine it. Nana plumps down out of Russia. I don't know why--some dispute with her prince. She leaves her traps at the station; she lands at her aunt's--you remember the old thing. Well, and then she finds her baby dying of smallpox. The baby dies next day, and she has a row with the aunt about some money she ought to have sent, of which the other one has never seen a sou. Seems the child died of that: in fact, it was neglected and badly cared for. Very well; Nana slopes, goes to a hotel, then meets Mignon just as she was thinking of her traps. She has all sorts of queer feelings, shivers, wants to be sick, and Mignon takes her back to her place and promises to look after her affairs. Isn't it odd, eh? Doesn't it all happen pat? But this is the best part of the story: Rose finds out about Nana's illness and gets indignant at the idea of her being alone in furnished apartments. So she rushes off, crying, to look after her. You remember how they used to detest one another-- like regular furies! Well then, my dear, Rose has had Nana transported to the Grand Hotel, so that she should, at any rate, die in a smart place, and now she's already passed three nights there and is free to die of it after. It's Labordette who told me all about it. Accordingly I wanted to see for myself--'
'Yes, yes,' interrupted Caroline in great excitement 'We'll go up to her.'
They had arrived at their destination. On the boulevard the coachman had had to rein in his horses amid a block of carriages and people on foot. During the day the Corps Legislatif had voted for war, and now a crowd was streaming down all the streets, flowing along all the pavements, invading the middle of the roadway. Beyond the Madeleine the sun had set behind a blood-red cloud, which cast a reflection as of a great fire and set the lofty windows flaming. Twilight was falling, and the hour was oppressively melancholy, for now the avenues were darkening away into the distance but were not as yet dotted over by the bright sparks of the gas lamps. And among the marching crowds distant voices swelled and grew ever louder, and eyes gleamed from pale faces, while a great spreading wind of anguish and stupor set every head whirling.
'Here's Mignon,' said Lucy. 'He'll give us news.'
Mignon was standing under the vast porch of the Grand Hotel. He looked nervous and was gazing at the crowd. After Lucy's first few questions he grew impatient and cried out:
'How should I know? These last two days I haven't been able to tear Rose away from up there. It's getting stupid, when all's said, for her to be risking her life like that! She'll be charming if she gets over it, with holes in her face! It'll suit us to a tee!'
The idea that Rose might lose her beauty was exasperating him. He was giving up Nana in the most downright fashion, and he could not in the least understand these stupid feminine devotions. But Fauchery was crossing the boulevard, and he, too, came up anxiously and asked for news. The two men egged each other on. They addressed one another familiarly in these days.
'Always the same business, my sonny,' declared Mignon. 'You ought to go upstairs; you would force her to follow you.'
'Come now, you're kind, you are!' said the journalist. 'Why don't you go upstairs yourself?'
Then as Lucy began asking for Nana's number, they besought her to make Rose come down; otherwise they would end by getting angry.
Nevertheless, Lucy and Caroline did not go up at once. They had caught sight of Fontan strolling about with his hands in his pockets and greatly amused by the quaint expressions of the mob. When he became aware that Nana was lying ill upstairs he affected sentiment and remarked:
'The poor girl! I'll go and shake her by the hand. What's the matter with her, eh?'
'Smallpox,' replied Mignon.
The actor had already taken a step or two in the direction of the court, but he came back and simply murmured with a shiver:
'Oh, damn it!'
The smallpox was no joke. Fontan had been near having it when he was five years old, while Mignon gave them an account of one of his nieces who had died of it. As to Fauchery, he could speak of it from personal experience, for he still bore marks of it in the shape of three little lumps at the base of his nose, which he showed them. And when Mignon again egged him on to the ascent, on the pretext that you never had it twice, he violently combated this theory and with infinite abuse of the doctors instanced various cases. But Lucy and Caroline interrupted them, for the growing multitude filled them with astonishment.
'Just look! Just look what a lot of people!' The night was deepening, and in the distance the gas lamps were being lit one by one. Meanwhile interested spectators became visible at windows, while under the trees the human flood grew every minute more dense, till it ran in one enormous stream from the Madeleine to the Bastille. Carriages rolled slowly along. A roaring sound went up from this compact and as yet inarticulate mass. Each member of it had come out, impelled by the desire to form a crowd, and was now trampling along, steeping himself in the pervading fever. But a great movement caused the mob to flow asunder. Among the jostling, scattering groups a band of men in workmen's caps and white blouses had come in sight, uttering a rhythmical cry which suggested the beat of hammers upon an anvil.
'To Ber-lin! To Ber-lin! To Ber-lin!' And the crowd stared in gloomy distrust yet felt themselves already possessed and inspired by heroic imaginings, as though a military band were passing.
'Oh yes, go and get your throats cut!' muttered Mignon, overcome by an access of philosophy.
But Fontan thought it very fine, indeed, and spoke of enlisting. When the enemy was on the frontier all citizens ought to rise up in defense of the fatherland! And with that he assumed an attitude suggestive of Bonaparte at Austerlitz.
'Look here, are you coining up with us?' Lucy asked him.
'Oh dear, no! To catch something horrid?' he said.
On a bench in front of the Grand Hotel a man sat hiding his face in a handkerchief. On arriving Fauchery had indicated him to Mignon with a wink of the eye. Well, he was still there; yes, he was always there. And the journalist detained the two women also in order to point him out to them. When the man lifted his head they recognized him; an exclamation escaped them. It was the Count Muffat, and he was giving an upward glance at one of the windows.
'You know, he's bemight be the face. Lucy added:
'I never saw her since that time at the Gaite, when she was at the end of the grotto.'
At this Rose awoke from her stupor and smiled as she said:
'Ah, she's changed; she's changed.'
Then she once more lapsed into contemplation and neither moved nor spoke. Perhaps they would be able to look at her presently! And with that the three women joined the others in front of the fireplace. Simonne and Clarisse were discussing the dead woman's diamonds in low tones. Well, did they really exist--those diamonds? Nobody had seen them; it must be a bit of humbug. But Lea de Horn knew someone who knew all about them. Oh, they were monster stones! Besides, they weren't all; she had brought back lots of other precious property from Russia--embroidered stuffs, for instance, valuable knickknacks, a gold dinner service, nay, even en waiting there since this morning,' Mignon informed them. 'I saw him at six o'clock, and he hasn't moved since. Directly Labordette spoke about it he came there with his handkerchief up to his face. Every half-hour he comes dragging
