“Jove, it’s sly,” muttered Philippe. “That’s what happens before, but afterward, what then?” She laughed merrily. “Yes, just so, before and after! When I’m going to sleep I hear him jawing away again. But the biggest bore of all is that we can’t argue about anything now without his growing ‘pi.’ I’ve always been religious. Yes, chaff as much as you like; that won’t prevent me believing what I do believe! Only he’s too much of a nuisance: he blubbers; he talks about remorse. The day before yesterday, for instance, he had a regular fit of it after our usual row, and I wasn’t the least bit reassured when all was over.” But she broke off, crying out: “Just look at the Mignons arriving. Dear me, they’ve brought the children! Oh, how those little chaps are dressed up!” The Mignons were in a landau of severe hue; there was something substantially luxurious about their turnout, suggesting rich retired tradespeople. Rose was in a gray silk gown trimmed with red knots and with puffs; she was smiling happily at the joyous behavior of Henri and Charles, who sat on the front seat, looking awkward in their ill-fitting collegians’ tunics. But when the landau had drawn up by the rails and she perceived Nana sitting in triumph among her bouquets, with her four horses and her liveries, she pursed up her lips, sat bolt upright and turned her head away. Mignon, on the other hand, looking the picture of freshness and gaiety, waved her a salutation. He made it a matter of principle to keep out of feminine disagreements. “By the by,” Nana resumed, “d’you know a little old man who’s very clean and neat and has bad teeth—a Monsieur Venot? He came to see me this morning.” “Monsieur Venot?” said Georges in great astonishment. “It’s impossible! Why, the man’s a Jesuit!” “Precisely; I spotted that. Oh, you have no idea what our conversation was like! It was just funny! He spoke to me about the count, about his divided house, and begged me to restore a family its happiness. He was very polite and very smiling for the matter of that. Then I answered to the effect that I wanted nothing better, and I undertook to reconcile the count and his wife. You know it’s not humbug. I should be delighted to see them all happy again, the poor things! Besides, it would be a relief to me for there are days—yes, there are days—when he bores me to death.” The weariness of the last months escaped her in this heartfelt outburst. Moreover, the count appeared to be in big money difficulties; he was anxious and it seemed likely that the bill which Labordette had put his name to would not be met. “Dear me, the countess is down yonder,” said Georges, letting his gaze wander over the stands. “Where, where?” cried Nana. “What eyes that baby’s got! Hold my sunshade, Philippe.” But with a quick forward dart Georges had outstripped his brother. It enchanted him to be holding the blue silk sunshade with its silver fringe. Nana was scanning the scene through a huge pair of field glasses.