“Egad, there’s Satin,” murmured Fauchery when his eye lit upon her. La Faloise questioned him. Oh dear, yes, she was a streetwalker—she didn’t count. But she was such a scandalous sort that people amused themselves by making her talk. And the journalist, raising his voice: “What are you doing there, Satin?” “I’m bogging,” replied Satin quietly without changing position. The four men were charmed and fell a-laughing. Mignon assured them that there was no need to hurry; it would take twenty minutes to set up the scenery for the third act. But the two cousins, having drunk their beer, wanted to go up into the theater again; the cold was making itself felt. Then Mignon remained alone with Steiner, put his elbows on the table and spoke to him at close quarters. “It’s an understood thing, eh? We are to go to her house, and I’m to introduce you. You know the thing’s quite between ourselves—my wife needn’t know.” Once more in their places, Fauchery and La Faloise noticed a pretty, quietly dressed woman in the second tier of boxes. She was with a serious-looking gentleman, a chief clerk at the office of the Ministry of the Interior, whom La Faloise knew, having met him at the Muffats’. As to Fauchery, he was under the impression that her name was Madame Robert, a lady of honorable repute who had a lover, only one, and that always a person of respectability. But they had to turn round, for Daguenet was smiling at them. Now that Nana had had a success he no longer hid himself: indeed, he had just been scoring triumphs in the passages. By his side was the young truant schoolboy, who had not quitted his seat, so stupefying was the state of admiration into which Nana had plunged him. That was it, he thought; that was the woman! And he blushed as he thought so and dragged his gloves on and off mechanically. Then since his neighbor had spoken of Nana, he ventured to question him. “Will you pardon me for asking you, sir, but that lady who is acting—do you know her?” “Yes, I do a little,” murmured Daguenet with some surprise and hesitation. “Then you know her address?” The question, addressed as it was to him, came so abruptly that he felt inclined to respond with a box on the ear. “No,” he said in a dry tone of voice. And with that he turned his back. The fair lad knew that he had just been guilty of some breach of good manners. He blushed more hotly than ever and looked scared.