The Tricon, as she sat alone next her driver, waited till the last moment. Very cool, indeed, amid all these disputes, very far above the ever-increasing uproar in which horses’ names kept recurring and lively Parisian phrases mingled with guttural English exclamations, she sat listening and taking notes majestically. “And Nana?” said Georges. “Does no one want her?” Indeed, nobody was asking for the filly; she was not even being mentioned. The outsider of the Vandeuvres’s stud was swamped by Lusignan’s popularity. But La Faloise flung his arms up, crying: “I’ve an inspiration. I’ll bet a louis on Nana.” “Bravo! I bet a couple,” said Georges. “And I three,” added Philippe. And they mounted up and up, bidding against one another good-humoredly and naming prices as though they had been haggling over Nana at an auction. La Faloise said he would cover her with gold. Besides, everybody was to be made to back her; they would go and pick up backers. But as the three young men were darting off to propagandize, Nana shouted after them: “You know I don’t want to have anything to do with her; I don’t for the world! Georges, ten louis on Lusignan and five on Valerio II.” Meanwhile they had started fairly off, and she watched them gaily as they slipped between wheels, ducked under horses’ heads and scoured the whole field. The moment they recognized anyone in a carriage they rushed up and urged Nana’s claims. And there were great bursts of laughter among the crowd when sometimes they turned back, triumphantly signaling amounts with their fingers, while the young woman stood and waved her sunshade. Nevertheless, they made poor enough work of it. Some men let themselves be persuaded; Steiner, for instance, ventured three louis, for the sight of Nana stirred him. But the women refused point-blank. “Thanks,” they said; “to lose for a certainty!” Besides, they were in no hurry to work for the benefit of a dirty wench who was overwhelming them all with her four white horses, her postilions and her outrageous assumption of side. Gaga and Clarisse looked exceedingly prim and asked La Faloise whether he was jolly well making fun of them. When Georges boldly presented himself before the Mignons’ carriage Rose turned her head away in the most marked manner and did not answer him. One must be a pretty foul sort to let one’s name be given to a horse! Mignon, on the contrary, followed the young man’s movements with a look of amusement and declared that the women always brought luck. “Well?” queried Nana when the young men returned after a prolonged visit to the bookmakers. “The odds are forty to one against you,” said La Faloise. “What’s that? Forty to one!” she cried, astounded. “They were fifty to one against me. What’s happened?”