There was a rumor that the empress was entering the little central stand, a pavilion built like a chalet, with a wide balcony furnished with red armchairs. “Why, there he is!” said Georges. “I didn’t think he was on duty this week.” The stiff and solemn form of the Count Muffat had appeared behind the empress. Thereupon the young men jested and were sorry that Satin wasn’t there to go and dig him in the ribs. But Nana’s field glass focused the head of the Prince of Scots in the imperial stand. “Gracious, it’s Charles!” she cried. She thought him stouter than formerly. In eighteen months he had broadened, and with that she entered into particulars. Oh yes, he was a big, solidly built fellow! All round her in the ladies’ carriages they were whispering that the count had given her up. It was quite a long story. Since he had been making himself noticeable, the Tuileries had grown scandalized at the chamberlain’s conduct. Whereupon, in order to retain his position, he had recently broken it off with Nana. La Faloise bluntly reported this account of matters to the young woman and, addressing her as his Juliet, again offered himself. But she laughed merrily and remarked: “It’s idiotic! You won’t know him; I’ve only to say, ‘Come here,’ for him to chuck up everything.” For some seconds past she had been examining the Countess Sabine and Estelle. Daguenet was still at their side. Fauchery had just arrived and was disturbing the people round him in his desire to make his bow to them. He, too, stayed smilingly beside them. After that Nana pointed with disdainful action at the stands and continued: “Then, you know, those people don’t fetch me any longer now! I know ’em too well. You should see ’em behind scenes. No more honor! It’s all up with honor! Filth belowstairs, filth abovestairs, filth everywhere. That’s why I won’t be bothered about ’em!” And with a comprehensive gesture she took in everybody, from the grooms leading the horses on to the course to the sovereign lady busy chatting with with Charles, a prince and a dirty fellow to boot. “Bravo, Nana! Awfully smart, Nana!” cried La Faloise enthusiastically. The tolling of a bell was lost in the wind; the races continued. The Prix d’Ispahan had just been run for and Berlingot, a horse belonging to the Mechain stable, had won. Nana recalled Labordette in order to obtain news of the hundred louis, but he burst out laughing and refused to let her know the horses he had chosen for her, so as not to disturb the luck, as he phrased it. Her money was well placed; she would see that all in good time. And when she confessed her bets to him and told him how she had put ten louis on Lusignan and five on Valerio II, he shrugged his shoulders, as who should say that women did stupid things whatever happened. His action surprised her; she was quite at sea.