Nana began saying, letting him do as he would. "All
this doesn't help you a bit, seeing that the thing's impossible. Good
God, what a child you are!"

His energy subsided, but he still stayed on the floor, nor did he relax
his hold of her as he said in a broken voice:

"Do at least listen to what I came to offer you. I've already seen
a town house close to the Parc Monceau--I would gladly realize your
smallest wish. In order to have you all to myself, I would give my whole
fortune. Yes, that would be my only condition, that I should have you
all to myself! Do you understand? And if you were to consent to be mine
only, oh, then I should want you to be the loveliest, the richest, woman
on earth. I should give you carriages and diamonds and dresses!"

At each successive offer Nana shook her head proudly. Then seeing
that he still continued them, that he even spoke of settling money on
her--for he was at loss what to lay at her feet--she apparently lost
patience.

"Come, come, have you done bargaining with me? I'm a good sort, and I
don't mind giving in to you for a minute or two, as your feelings are
making you so ill, but I've had enough of it now, haven't I? So let me
get up. You're tiring me."

She extricated herself from his clasp, and once on her feet:

"No, no, no!" she said. "I don't want to!"

With that he gathered himself up painfully and feebly dropped into a
chair, in which he leaned back with his face in his hands. Nana began
pacing up and down in her turn. For a second or two she looked at the
stained wallpaper, the greasy toilet table, the whole dirty little room
as it basked in the pale sunlight. Then she paused in front of the count
and spoke with quiet directness.

"It's strange how rich men fancy they can have everything for their
money. Well, and if I don't want to consent--what then? I don't care a
pin for your presents! You might give me Paris, and yet I should say
no! Always no! Look here, it's scarcely clean in this room, yet I should
think it very nice if I wanted to live in it with you. But one's fit to
kick the bucket in your palaces if one isn't in love. Ah, as to money,
my poor pet, I can lay my hands on that if I want to, but I tell you, I
trample on it; I spit on it!"

And with that she assumed a disgusted expression. Then she became
sentimental and added in a melancholy tone:

"I know of something worth more than money. Oh, if only someone were to
give me what I long for!"

He