d
and his flabby flesh all out in yellow patches, she would become
serious, but her principal feeling would be one of astonishment. What
could be the matter with the little love that he should grow so weakly?
She, his mother, was so strong and well!

On the days when her child did not engross attention Nana would again
sink back into the noisy monotony of her existence, with its drives
in the Bois, first nights at the theater, dinners and suppers at the
Maison-d'Or or the Cafe Anglais, not to mention all the places of public
resort, all the spectacles to which crowds rushed--Mabille, the reviews,
the races. But whatever happened she still felt that stupid, idle void,
which caused her, as it were, to suffer internal cramps. Despite the
incessant infatuations that possessed her heart, she would stretch out
her arms with a gesture of immense weariness the moment she was left
alone. Solitude rendered her low spirited at once, for it brought her
face to face with the emptiness and boredom within her. Extremely gay
by nature and profession, she became dismal in solitude and would sum
up her life in the following ejaculation, which recurred incessantly
between her yawns:

"Oh, how the men bother me!"

One afternoon as she was returning home from a concert, Nana, on the
sidewalk in the Rue Montmartre, noticed a woman trotting along in
down-at-the-heel boots, dirty petticoats and a hat utterly ruined by the
rain. She recognized her suddenly.

"Stop, Charles!" she shouted to the coachman and began calling: "Satin,
Satin!"

Passers-by turned their heads; the whole street stared. Satin had drawn
near and was still further soiling herself against the carriage wheels.

"Do get in, my dear girl," said Nana tranquilly, disdaining the
onlookers.

And with that she picked her up and carried her off, though she was in
disgusting contrast to her light blue landau and her dress of pearl-gray
silk trimmed with Chantilly, while the street smiled at the coachman's
loftily dignified demeanor.

From that day forth Nana had a passion to occupy her thoughts. Satin
became her vicious foible. Washed and dressed and duly installed in the
house in the Avenue de Villiers, during three days the girl talked of
Saint-Lazare and the annoyances the sisters had caused her and how those
dirty police people had put her down on the official list. Nana grew
indignant and comforted her and vowed she would get her name taken off,
even though she herself