y long one."

She was flattered to think that the Figaro should concern itself about
her person. But failing the explanations of her hairdresser Francis, who
had brought her the paper, she would not have understood that it was
she who was in question. Daguenet scrutinized her slyly, sneering in his
chaffing way. Well, well, since she was pleased, everybody else ought to
be.

"By your leave!" shouted a waiter, holding a dish of iced cheese in both
hands as he separated them.

Nana had stepped toward the little saloon where Muffat was waiting.

"Well, good-by!" continued Daguenet. "Go and find your cuckold again."

But she halted afresh.

"Why d'you call him cuckold?"

"Because he is a cuckold, by Jove!"

She came and leaned against the wall again; she was profoundly
interested.

"Ah!" she said simply.

"What, d'you mean to say you didn't know that? Why, my dear girl, his
wife's Fauchery's mistress. It probably began in the country. Some time
ago, when I was coming here, Fauchery left me, and I suspect he's got an
assignation with her at his place tonight. They've made up a story about
a journey, I fancy."

Overcome with surprise, Nana remained voiceless.

"I suspected it," she said at last, slapping her leg. "I guessed it by
merely looking at her on the highroad that day. To think of its being
possible for an honest woman to deceive her husband, and with that
blackguard Fauchery too! He'll teach her some pretty things!"

"Oh, it isn't her trial trip," muttered Daguenet wickedly. "Perhaps she
knows as much about it as he does."

At this Nana gave vent to an indignant exclamation.

"Indeed she does! What a nice world! It's too foul!"

"By your leave!" shouted a waiter, laden with bottles, as he separated
them.

Daguenet drew her forward again and held her hand for a second or two.
He adopted his crystalline tone of voice, the voice with notes as sweet
as those of a harmonica, which had gained him his success among the
ladies of Nana's type.

"Good-by, darling! You know I love you always."

She disengaged her hand from his, and while a thunder of shouts and
bravos, which made the door in the saloon tremble again, almost drowned
her words she smilingly remarked:

"It's over between us, stupid! But that doesn't matter. Do come up one
of these days, and we'll have a chat."

Then she became serious again and in the outraged tones of a respectable
woman:

"So he's a cuckold, is he?" she cried. "Well