love for him had increased, and the fatigues and disgusts
encountered outside only added to the flame. He was fast becoming a
sort of pet vice for which she paid, a necessity of existence it was
impossible to do without, seeing that blows only stimulated her desires.
He, on his part, seeing what a good tame thing she had become, ended by
abusing his privileges. She was getting on his nerves, and he began to
conceive so fierce a loathing for her that he forgot to keep count of
his real interests. When Bosc made his customary remarks to him he cried
out in exasperation, for which there was no apparent cause, that he
had had enough of her and of her good dinners and that he would shortly
chuck her out of doors if only for the sake of making another woman a
present of his seven thousand francs. Indeed, that was how their liaison
ended.

One evening Nana came in toward eleven o'clock and found the door
bolted. She tapped once--there was no answer; twice--still no answer.
Meanwhile she saw light under the door, and Fontan inside did not
trouble to move. She rapped again unwearyingly; she called him and began
to get annoyed. At length Fontan's voice became audible; he spoke slowly
and rather unctuously and uttered but this one word.

"MERDE!"

She beat on the door with her fists.

"MERDE!"

She banged hard enough to smash in the woodwork.

"MERDE!"

And for upward of a quarter of an hour the same foul expression buffeted
her, answering like a jeering echo to every blow wherewith she shook
the door. At length, seeing that she was not growing tired, he opened
sharply, planted himself on the threshold, folded his arms and said in
the same cold, brutal voice:

"By God, have you done yet? What d'you want? Are you going to let us
sleep in peace, eh? You can quite see I've got company tonight."

He was certainly not alone, for Nana perceived the little woman from
the Bouffes with the untidy tow hair and the gimlet-hole eyes, standing
enjoying herself in her shift among the furniture she had paid for. But
Fontan stepped out on the landing. He looked terrible, and he spread out
and crooked his great fingers as if they were pincers.

"Hook it or I'll strangle you!"

Whereupon Nana burst into a nervous fit of sobbing. She was frightened
and she made off. This time it was she that was being kicked out of
doors. And in her fury the thought of Muffat suddenly occurred to her.
Ah, to be sure, Fontan, of all men, ought never to