either by polishing her skin or cutting off little
hairs. Then for a whole hour he waited patiently, his hand in his pocket
and his fingers tightly clasped round the scissors.

"Here's Madame," said Zoe, returning. She must have espied her through
the bedroom window.

There was a sound of people racing through the house, and laughter
died away and doors were shut. Georges heard Nana paying the baker and
speaking in the curtest way. Then she came upstairs.

"What, you're here still!" she said as she noticed him. "Aha! We're
going to grow angry, my good man!"

He followed her as she walked toward her bedroom.

"Nana, will you marry me?"

She shrugged her shoulders. It was too stupid; she refused to answer any
more and conceived the idea of slamming the door in his face.

"Nana, will you marry me?"

She slammed the door. He opened it with one hand while he brought the
other and the scissors out of his pocket. And with one great stab he
simply buried them in his breast.

Nana, meanwhile, had felt conscious that something dreadful would
happen, and she had turned round. When she saw him stab himself she was
seized with indignation.

"Oh, what a fool he is! What a fool! And with my scissors! Will you
leave off, you naughty little rogue? Oh, my God! Oh, my God!"

She was scared. Sinking on his knees, the boy had just given himself
a second stab, which sent him down at full length on the carpet. He
blocked the threshold of the bedroom. With that Nana lost her head
utterly and screamed with all her might, for she dared not step over
his body, which shut her in and prevented her from running to seek
assistance.

"Zoe! Zoe! Come at once. Make him leave off. It's getting stupid--a
child like that! He's killing himself now! And in my place too! Did you
ever see the like of it?"

He was frightening her. He was all white, and his eyes were shut. There
was scarcely any bleeding--only a little blood, a tiny stain which was
oozing down into his waistcoat. She was making up her mind to step over
the body when an apparition sent her starting back. An old lady was
advancing through the drawing-room door, which remained wide open
opposite. And in her terror she recognized Mme Hugon but could not
explain her presence. Still wearing her gloves and hat, Nana kept
edging backward, and her terror grew so great that she sought to defend
herself, and in a shaky voice:

"Madame," she cried, "it isn't I; I swear to you it isn't. He