ou know, those people don't fetch me any longer now! I know 'em
too well. You should see 'em behind scenes. No more honor! It's all
up with honor! Filth belowstairs, filth abovestairs, filth everywhere.
That's why I won't be bothered about 'em!"

And with a comprehensive gesture she took in everybody, from the grooms
leading the horses on to the course to the sovereign lady busy chatting
with with Charles, a prince and a dirty fellow to boot.

"Bravo, Nana! Awfully smart, Nana!" cried La Faloise enthusiastically.

The tolling of a bell was lost in the wind; the races continued. The
Prix d'Ispahan had just been run for and Berlingot, a horse belonging to
the Mechain stable, had won. Nana recalled Labordette in order to obtain
news of the hundred louis, but he burst out laughing and refused to
let her know the horses he had chosen for her, so as not to disturb the
luck, as he phrased it. Her money was well placed; she would see that
all in good time. And when she confessed her bets to him and told
him how she had put ten louis on Lusignan and five on Valerio II, he
shrugged his shoulders, as who should say that women did stupid things
whatever happened. His action surprised her; she was quite at sea.

Just then the field grew more animated than before. Open-air lunches
were arranged in the interval before the Grand Prix. There was much
eating and more drinking in all directions, on the grass, on the high
seats of the four-in-hands and mail coaches, in the victorias, the
broughams, the landaus. There was a universal spread of cold viands
and a fine disorderly display of champagne baskets which footmen kept
handing down out of the coach boots. Corks came out with feeble pops,
which the wind drowned. There was an interchange of jests, and the sound
of breaking glasses imparted a note of discord to the high-strung gaiety
of the scene. Gaga and Clarisse, together with Blanche, were making a
serious repast, for they were eating sandwiches on the carriage rug with
which they had been covering their knees. Louise Violaine had got down
from her basket carriage and had joined Caroline Hequet. On the turf at
their feet some gentlemen had instituted a drinking bar, whither Tatan,
Maria, Simonne and the rest came to refresh themselves, while high in
air and close at hand bottles were being emptied on Lea de Horn's mail
coach, and, with infinite bravado and gesticulation, a whole band were
making themselves tipsy in the sunshine, abo