“No, don’t be afraid of that! Only she must mind and keep quiet, or I let the cat out of the bag!” Then signing imperiously to Fauchery: “I’ve got your slippers at home, my little man. I’ll get them taken to your porter’s lodge for you tomorrow.” He wanted to joke about it, but she swept off, looking like a queen. Clarisse, who had propped herself against a wall in order to drink a quiet glass of kirsch, was seen to shrug her shoulders. A pleasant business for a man! Wasn’t it true that the moment two women were together in the presence of their lovers their first idea was to do one another out of them? It was a law of nature! As to herself, why, in heaven’s name, if she had wanted to she would have torn out Gaga’s eyes on Hector’s account! But la, she despised him! Then as La Faloise passed by, she contented herself by remarking to him: “Listen, my friend, you like ’em well advanced, you do! You don’t want ’em ripe; you want ’em mildewed!” La Faloise seemed much annoyed and not a little anxious. Seeing Clarisse making game of him, he grew suspicious of her. “No humbug, I say,” he muttered. “You’ve taken my handkerchief. Well then, give it back!” “He’s dreeing us with that handkerchief of his!” she cried. “Why, you ass, why should I have taken it from you?” “Why should you?” he said suspiciously. “Why, that you may send it to my people and compromise me.” In the meantime Foucarmont was diligently attacking the liqueurs. He continued to gaze sneeringly at Labordette, who was drinking his coffee in the midst of the ladies. And occasionally he gave vent to fragmentary assertions, as thus: “He’s the son of a horse dealer; some say the illegitimate child of a countess. Never a penny of income, yet always got twenty-five louis in his pocket! Footboy to the ladies of the town! A big lubber, who never goes with any of ’em! Never, never, never!” he repeated, growing furious. “No, by Jove! I must box his ears.” He drained a glass of chartreuse. The chartreuse had not the slightest effect upon him; it didn’t affect him “even to that extent,” and he clicked his thumbnail against the edge of his teeth. But suddenly, just as he was advancing upon Labordette, he grew ashy white and fell down in a heap in front of the sideboard. He was dead drunk. Louise Violaine was beside herself. She had been quite right to prophesy that matters would end badly, and now she would have her work cut out for the remainder of the night. Gaga reassured her. She examined the officer with the eye of a woman of experience and declared that there was nothing much the matter and that the gentleman would sleep like that for at least a dozen or fifteen hours without any serious consequences. Foucarmont was carried off. “Well, where’s Nana gone to?” asked Vandeuvres.