“What’s so tiresome of those shows is that it’s always the same set of women. One wants a novelty. Do try and invent a new girl. By Jove, happy thought! I’ll go and beseech that stout man to bring the woman he was trotting about the other evening at the Variétés.” He referred to the chief clerk, sound asleep in the middle of the drawing room. Fauchery, afar off, amused himself by following this delicate negotiation. Vandeuvres had sat himself down by the stout man, who still looked very sedate. For some moments they both appeared to be discussing with much propriety the question before the house, which was, “How can one discover the exact state of feeling that urges a young girl to enter into the religious life?” Then the count returned with the remark: “It’s impossible. He swears she’s straight. She’d refuse, and yet I would have wagered that I once saw her at Laure’s.” “Eh, what? You go to Laure’s?” murmured Fauchery with a chuckle. “You venture your reputation in places like that? I was under the impression that it was only we poor devils of outsiders who—” “Ah, dear boy, one ought to see every side of life.” Then they sneered and with sparkling eyes they compared notes about the table d’hôte in the Rue des Martyrs, where big Laure Piedefer ran a dinner at three francs a head for little women in difficulties. A nice hole, where all the little women used to kiss Laure on the lips! And as the Countess Sabine, who had overheard a stray word or two, turned toward them, they started back, rubbing shoulders in excited merriment. They had not noticed that Georges Hugon was close by and that he was listening to them, blushing so hotly the while that a rosy flush had spread from his ears to his girlish throat. The infant was full of shame and of ecstasy. From the moment his mother had turned him loose in the room he had been hovering in the wake of Mme de Chezelles, the only woman present who struck him as being the thing. But after all is said and done, Nana licked her to fits! “Yesterday evening,” Mme Hugon was saying, “Georges took me to the play. Yes, we went to the Variétés, where I certainly had not set foot for the last ten years. That child adores music. As to me, I wasn’t in the least amused, but he was so happy! They put extraordinary pieces on the stage nowadays. Besides, music delights me very little, I confess.” “What! You don’t love music, madame?” cried Mme du Joncquoy, lifting her eyes to heaven. “Is it possible there should be people who don’t love music?”