Nana kept hearing her name; the whole plain was echoing it back to her. Her people were applauding her while she towered above them in the sunlight, in the splendor of her starry hair and white-and-sky-blue dress. Labordette, as he made off, had just announced to her a gain of two thousand louis, for he had put her fifty on Nana at forty to one. But the money stirred her less than this unforeseen victory, the fame of which made her queen of Paris. All the other ladies were losers. With a raging movement Rose Mignon had snapped her sunshade, and Caroline Hequet and Clarisse and Simonne—nay, Lucy Stewart herself, despite the presence of her son—were swearing low in their exasperation at that great wench’s luck, while the Tricon, who had made the sign of the cross at both start and finish, straightened up her tall form above them, went into an ecstasy over her intuition and damned Nana admiringly as became an experienced matron. Meanwhile round the landau the crush of men increased. The band of Nana’s immediate followers had made a fierce uproar, and now Georges, choking with emotion, continued shouting all by himself in breaking tones. As the champagne had given out, Philippe, taking the footmen with him, had run to the wine bars. Nana’s court was growing and growing, and her present triumph caused many loiterers to join her. Indeed, that movement which had made her carriage a center of attraction to the whole field was now ending in an apotheosis, and Queen Venus was enthroned amid suddenly maddened subjects. Bordenave, behind her, was muttering oaths, for he yearned to her as a father. Steiner himself had been reconquered—he had deserted Simonne and had hoisted himself upon one of Nana’s carriage steps. When the champagne had arrived, when she lifted her brimming glass, such applause burst forth, and “Nana! Nana! Nana!” was so loudly repeated that the crowd looked round in astonishment for the filly, nor could any tell whether it was the horse or the woman that filled all hearts. While this was going on Mignon came hastening up in defiance of Rose’s terrible frown. That confounded girl simply maddened him, and he wanted to kiss her. Then after imprinting a paternal salute on both her cheeks: “What bothers me,” he said, “is that now Rose is certainly going to send the letter. She’s raging, too, fearfully.” “So much the better! It’ll do my business for me!” Nana let slip. But noting his utter astonishment, she hastily continued: “No, no, what am I saying? Indeed, I don’t rightly know what I’m saying now! I’m drunk.” And drunk, indeed, drunk with joy, drunk with sunshine, she still raised her glass on high and applauded herself. “To Nana! To Nana!” she cried amid a redoubled uproar of laughter and bravoes, which little by little overspread the whole Hippodrome.