n there even
now!" The very young man had jumped down at sight of her and was
blushing as red as a poppy. He did not know what to do with his bouquet,
which he kept shifting from one hand to the other, while his looks
betrayed the extreme of emotion. His youth, his embarrassment and the
funny figure he cut in his struggles with his flowers melted Nana's
heart, and she burst into a pretty peal of laughter. Well, now, the very
children were coming, were they? Men were arriving in long clothes. So
she gave up all airs and graces, became familiar and maternal, tapped
her leg and asked for fun:

"You want me to wipe your nose; do you, baby?"

"Yes," replied the lad in a low, supplicating tone.

This answer made her merrier than ever. He was seventeen years old, he
said. His name was Georges Hugon. He was at the Varietes last night and
now he had come to see her.

"These flowers are for me?"

"Yes."

"Then give 'em to me, booby!"

But as she took the bouquet from him he sprang upon her hands and kissed
them with all the gluttonous eagerness peculiar to his charming time
of life. She had to beat him to make him let go. There was a dreadful
little dribbling customer for you! But as she scolded him she flushed
rosy-red and began smiling. And with that she sent him about his
business, telling him that he might call again. He staggered away; he
could not find the doors.

Nana went back into her dressing room, where Francis made his appearance
almost simultaneously in order to dress her hair for the evening. Seated
in front of her mirror and bending her head beneath the hairdresser's
nimble hands, she stayed silently meditative. Presently, however, Zoe
entered, remarking:

"There's one of them, madame, who refuses to go."

"Very well, he must be left alone," she answered quietly.

"If that comes to that they still keep arriving."

"Bah! Tell 'em to wait. When they begin to feel too hungry they'll be
off." Her humor had changed, and she was now delighted to make people
wait about for nothing. A happy thought struck her as very amusing; she
escaped from beneath Francis' hands and ran and bolted the doors. They
might now crowd in there as much as they liked; they would probably
refrain from making a hole through the wall. Zoe could come in and out
through the little doorway leading to the kitchen. However, the electric
bell rang more lustily than ever. Every five minutes a clear, lively
little ting-ting recurred as reg