thirty to one
against, gave him twelve hundred thousand francs, an amount so vast as
to inspire respect and to excuse everything.

But other rumors of a very serious nature were being whispered about:
they issued in the first instance from the enclosure, and the men who
returned thence were full of exact particulars. Voices were raised;
an atrocious scandal began to be openly canvassed. That poor fellow
Vandeuvres was done for; he had spoiled his splendid hit with a piece of
flat stupidity, an idiotic robbery, for he had commissioned Marechal,
a shady bookmaker, to lay two thousand louis on his account against
Lusignan, in order thereby to get back his thousand and odd openly
wagered louis. It was a miserable business, and it proved to be the last
rift necessary to the utter breakup of his fortune. The bookmaker being
thus warned that the favorite would not win, had realized some sixty
thousand francs over the horse. Only Labordette, for lack of exact and
detailed instructions, had just then gone to him to put two hundred
louis on Nana, which the bookmaker, in his ignorance of the stroke
actually intended, was still quoting at fifty to one against. Cleared
of one hundred thousand francs over the filly and a loser to the tune of
forty thousand, Marechal, who felt the world crumbling under his feet,
had suddenly divined the situation when he saw the count and Labordette
talking together in front of the enclosure just after the race was over.
Furious, as became an ex-coachman of the count's, and brutally frank as
only a cheated man can be, he had just made a frightful scene in public,
had told the whole story in atrocious terms and had thrown everyone into
angry excitement. It was further stated that the stewards were about to
meet.

Nana, whom Philippe and Georges were whisperingly putting in possession
of the facts, gave vent to a series of reflections and yet ceased not
to laugh and drink. After all, it was quite likely; she remembered such
things, and then that Marechal had a dirty, hangdog look. Nevertheless,
she was still rather doubtful when Labordette appeared. He was very
white.

"Well?" she asked in a low voice.

"Bloody well smashed up!" he replied simply.

And he shrugged his shoulders. That Vandeuvres was a mere child! She
made a bored little gesture.

That evening at the Bal Mabille Nana obtained a colossal success. When
toward ten o'clock she made her appearance, the uproar was afready
formidable. Th