France -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories
“Oh, how silly he looks!” she said at the top of her voice to
Vandeuvres. She was anxious to pay everything a visit. This small
parklike region, with its green lawns and groups of trees, rather
charmed her than otherwise. A vendor of ices had set up a large buffet
near the entrance gates, and beneath a rustic thatched roof a dense
throng of people were shouting and gesticulating. This was the ring.
Close by were some empty stalls, and Nana was disappointed at
discovering only a gendarme’s horse there. Then there was the paddock,
a small course some hundred meters in circumference, where a stable
help was walking about Valerio II in his horsecloths. And, oh, what a
lot of men on the graveled sidewalks, all of them with their tickets
forming an orange-colored patch in their bottonholes! And what a
continual parade of people in the open galleries of the grandstands!
The scene interested her for a moment or two, but truly, it was not
worth while getting the spleen because they didn’t admit you inside
here.
Daguenet and Fauchery passed by and bowed to her. She made them a sign,
and they had to come up. Thereupon she made hay of the weighing-in
enclosure. But she broke off abruptly:
“Dear me, there’s the Marquis de Chouard! How old he’s growing! That
old man’s killing himself! Is he still as mad about it as ever?”
Thereupon Daguenet described the old man’s last brilliant stroke. The
story dated from the day before yesterday, and no one knew it as yet.
After dangling about for months he had bought her daughter Amelie from
Gaga for thirty thousand francs, they said.
“Good gracious! That’s a nice business!” cried Nana in disgust. “Go in
for the regular thing, please! But now that I come to think of it, that
must be Lili down there on the grass with a lady in a brougham. I
recognized the face. The old boy will have brought her out.”
Vandeuvres was not listening; he was impatient and longed to get rid of
her. But Fauchery having remarked at parting that if she had not seen
the bookmakers she had seen nothing, the count was obliged to take her
to them in spite of his obvious repugnance. And she was perfectly happy
at once; that truly was a curious sight, she said!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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