the tunic of Iris, which was dragging over the greasy steps
behind her, but she halted prudently at the turn in the stairs and was
content simply to crane forward and peer into the lodge. She certainly
had been quick to scent things out! Just fancy! That idiot La Faloise
was still there, sitting on the same old chair between the table and the
stove! He had made pretense of sneaking off in front of Simonne and
had returned after her departure. For the matter of that, the lodge was
still full of gentlemen who sat there gloved, elegant, submissive and
patient as ever. They were all waiting and viewing each other gravely
as they waited. On the table there were now only some dirty plates,
Mme Bron having recently distributed the last of the bouquets. A single
fallen rose was withering on the floor in the neighborhood of the black
cat, who had lain down and curled herself up while the kittens ran wild
races and danced fierce gallops among the gentlemen's legs. Clarisse was
momentarily inclined to turn La Faloise out. The idiot wasn't fond of
animals, and that put the finishing touch to him! He was busy drawing in
his legs because the cat was there, and he didn't want to touch her.

"He'll nip you; take care!" said Pluto, who was a joker, as he went
upstairs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

After that Clarisse gave up the idea of hauling La Faloise over the
coals. She had seen Mme Bron giving the letter to Simonne's young
man, and he had gone out to read it under the gas light in the lobby.
"Impossible tonight, darling--I'm booked." And with that he had
peaceably departed, as one who was doubtless used to the formula. He,
at any rate, knew how to conduct himself! Not so the others, the fellows
who sat there doggedly on Mme Bron's battered straw-bottomed chairs
under the great glazed lantern, where the heat was enough to roast you
and there was an unpleasant odor. What a lot of men it must have held!
Clarisse went upstairs again in disgust, crossed over behind scenes and
nimbly mounted three flights of steps which led to the dressing rooms,
in order to bring Simonne her reply.

Downstairs the prince had withdrawn from the rest and stood talking to
Nana. He never left her; he stood brooding over her through half-shut
eyelids. Nana did not look at him but, smiling, nodded yes. Suddenly,
however, Count Muffat obeyed an overmastering impulse, and leaving
Bordenave, who was explaining to him the working of the rollers