his haughty aristocratic manner and
the delicate elegance of his impoverished race, and as yet these
strange manifestations were only, so to speak, momentary fits of vertigo
overcoming a brain already sapped by play and by debauchery. One night
as he lay beside her he had frightened her with a dreadful story. He had
told her he contemplated shutting himself up in his stable and setting
fire to himself and his horses at such time as he should have devoured
all his substance. His only hope at that period was a horse, Lusignan by
name, which he was training for the Prix de Paris. He was living on this
horse, which was the sole stay of his shaken credit, and whenever Nana
grew exacting he would put her off till June and to the probability of
Lusignan's winning.

"Bah! He may very likely lose," she said merrily, "since he's going to
clear them all out at the races."

By way of reply he contented himself by smiling a thin, mysterious
smile. Then carelessly:

"By the by, I've taken the liberty of giving your name to my outsider,
the filly. Nana, Nana--that sounds well. You're not vexed?"

"Vexed, why?" she said in a state of inward ecstasy.

The conversation continued, and same mention was made of an execution
shortly to take place. The young woman said she was burning to go to it
when Satin appeared at the dressing-room door and called her in tones
of entreaty. She got up at once and left the gentlemen lolling lazily
about, while they finished their cigars and discussed the grave question
as to how far a murderer subject to chronic alcoholism is responsible
for his act. In the dressing room Zoe sat helpless on a chair, crying
her heart out, while Satin vainly endeavored to console her.

"What's the matter?" said Nana in surprise.

"Oh, darling, do speak to her!" said Satin. "I've been trying to make
her listen to reason for the last twenty minutes. She's crying because
you called her a goose."

"Yes, madame, it's very hard--very hard," stuttered Zoe, choked by a
fresh fit of sobbing.

This sad sight melted the young woman's heart at once. She spoke kindly,
and when the other woman still refused to grow calm she sank down
in front of her and took her round the waist with truly cordial
familiarity:

"But, you silly, I said 'goose' just as I might have said anything else.
How shall I explain? I was in a passion--it was wrong of me; now calm
down."

"I who love Madame so," stuttered Zoe; "after all I've done for Mad