her Barillot's tinkling bell approached along the passage. At the
door of the dressing room he stood amazed when he caught sight of the
three actors still clad in the costumes which they had worn in the
second act.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," he stammered, "do please make haste. They've
just rung the bell in the public foyer."

"Bah, the public will have to wait!" said Bordenave placidly.

However, as the bottles were now empty, the comedians went upstairs to
dress after yet another interchange of civilities. Bosc, having dipped
his beard in the champagne, had taken it off, and under his venerable
disguise the drunkard had suddenly reappeared. His was the haggard,
empurpled face of the old actor who has taken to drink. At the foot of
the stairs he was heard remarking to Fontan in his boozy voice:

"I pulverized him, eh?"

He was alluding to the prince.

In Nana's dressing room none now remained save His Highness, the count
and the marquis. Bordenave had withdrawn with Barillot, whom he advised
not to knock without first letting Madame know.

"You will excuse me, gentlemen?" asked Nana, again setting to work to
make up her arms and face, of which she was now particularly careful,
owing to her nude appearance in the third act.

The prince seated himself by the Marquis de Chouard on the divan, and
Count Muffat alone remained standing. In that suffocating heat the two
glasses of champagne they had drunk had increased their intoxication.
Satin, when she saw the gentlemen thus closeting themselves with her
friend, had deemed it discreet to vanish behind the curtain, where
she sat waiting on a trunk, much annoyed at being compelled to remain
motionless, while Mme Jules came and went quietly without word or look.

"You sang your numbers marvelously," said the prince.

And with that they began a conversation, but their sentences were short
and their pauses frequent. Nana, indeed, was not always able to reply.
After rubbing cold cream over her arms and face with the palm of her
hand she laid on the grease paint with the corner of a towel. For one
second only she ceased looking in the glass and smilingly stole a glance
at the prince.

"His Highness is spoiling me," she murmured without putting down the
grease paint.

Her task was a complicated one, and the Marquis de Chouard followed it
with an expression of devout enjoyment. He spoke in his turn.

"Could not the band accompany you more softly?" he said. "It drowns you