shape in her brain, while
Mignon was doing his best to talk her over.

"Let's suppose that Rose sends the letter, eh? There's food for scandal:
you're mixed up in the business, and people say you're the cause of it
all. Then to begin with, the count separates from his wife."

"Why should he?" she said. "On the contrary--"

She broke off, in her turn. There was no need for her to think aloud. So
in order to be rid of Mignon she looked as though she entered into his
view of the case, and when he advised her to give Rose some proof of her
submission--to pay her a short visit on the racecourse, for instance,
where everybody would see her--she replied that she would see about it,
that she would think the matter over.

A commotion caused her to stand up again. On the course the horses were
coming in amid a sudden blast of wind. The prize given by the city of
Paris had just been run for, and Cornemuse had gained it. Now the Grand
Prix was about to be run, and the fever of the crowd increased, and they
were tortured by anxiety and stamped and swayed as though they wanted to
make the minutes fly faster. At this ultimate moment the betting world
was surprised and startled by the continued shortening of the odds
against Nana, the outsider of the Vandeuvres stables. Gentlemen kept
returning every few moments with a new quotation: the betting was thirty
to one against Nana; it was twenty-five to one against Nana, then twenty
to one, then fifteen to one. No one could understand it. A filly beaten
on all the racecourses! A filly which that same morning no single
sportsman would take at fifty to one against! What did this sudden
madness betoken? Some laughed at it and spoke of the pretty doing
awaiting the duffers who were being taken in by the joke. Others looked
serious and uneasy and sniffed out something ugly under it all. Perhaps
there was a "deal" in the offing. Allusion was made to well-known
stories about the robberies which are winked at on racecourses, but
on this occasion the great name of Vandeuvres put a stop to all such
accusations, and the skeptics in the end prevailed when they prophesied
that Nana would come in last of all.

"Who's riding Nana?" queried La Faloise.

Just then the real Nana reappeared, whereat the gentlemen lent his
question an indecent meaning and burst into an uproarious fit of
laughter. Nana bowed.

"Price is up," she replied.

And with that the discussion began again. Price was an English