gh of this, haven't we? Leave the room, all of you! We
don't want you any longer!"

This summary procedure calmed her down, and she was forthwith all
sweetness and amiability. The dessert proved charming, and the gentlemen
grew quite merry waiting on themselves. But Satin, having peeled a pear,
came and ate it behind her darling, leaning on her shoulder the while
and whispering sundry little remarks in her ear, at which they both
laughed very loudly. By and by she wanted to share her last piece of
pear with Nana and presented it to her between her teeth. Whereupon
there was a great nibbling of lips, and the pear was finished amid
kisses. At this there was a burst of comic protest from the gentlemen,
Philippe shouting to them to take it easy and Vandeuvres asking if one
ought to leave the room. Georges, meanwhile, had come and put his arm
round Satin's waist and had brought her back to her seat.

"How silly of you!" said Nana. "You're making her blush, the poor,
darling duck. Never mind, dear girl, let them chaff. It's our own little
private affair."

And turning to Muffat, who was watching them with his serious
expression:

"Isn't it, my friend?"

"Yes, certainly," he murmured with a slow nod of approval.

He no longer protested now. And so amid that company of gentlemen with
the great names and the old, upright traditions, the two women sat face
to face, exchanging tender glances, conquering, reigning, in tranquil
defiance of the laws of sex, in open contempt for the male portion of
the community. The gentlemen burst into applause.

The company went upstairs to take coffee in the little drawing room,
where a couple of lamps cast a soft glow over the rosy hangings and the
lacquer and old gold of the knickknacks. At that hour of the evening
the light played discreetly over coffers, bronzes and china, lighting up
silver or ivory inlaid work, bringing into view the polished contours of
a carved stick and gleaming over a panel with glossy silky reflections.
The fire, which had been burning since the afternoon, was dying out
in glowing embers. It was very warm--the air behind the curtains and
hangings was languid with warmth. The room was full of Nana's intimate
existence: a pair of gloves, a fallen handkerchief, an open book, lay
scattered about, and their owner seemed present in careless attire with
that well-known odor of violets and that species of untidiness which
became her in her character of good-natured cour