Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 11 December 1879 — Page 2

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"IV

CHAPTER XI.

LITTLE SANA.

Nina wis growing fast—fair, fresh and dimpled—her skin, velvety like a peach, and eyes so bright that men often asked her if they might not light their pipes atthem. Her mass of blond hair —the color of ripe wheat—looked around her temples as if it were powdered with geld. She hac a quaint little .trick of sticking out the tip of her tongue between her white teeth, and this habit for some reason, exasperated her mother.

She was very fond of finery and very coquettish. In this house, Where bread was not always to be got, it was difficult for her to indulge her caprices in the matter of costume, but she did wonders See brought home odds and ends of ribbons, from the shop where she worked and made them up into bows and knots with which she ornamented her dirty dresses. She was notover particular in washing her feet, but she wore her boots so tighc she suffered martyrdom in honor of Saint Crispin, and if any one asked her what the matter was, when the pain flushed her face suddenly, she always and promptly laid it to the score cf the colic.

Summer was the season of her triumphs. In a calico dress that cost five or six francs, she was as fresh and sweet as a spring morning, and the dull street radiant with her youth and her beauty. She went by the name of "The Little Chicken." One gown in particular suited her to perfection. It was white, with rose-colored dots, without trimming of any kind. The skirt was short and showed her feet. The sleeves were very wide, and displayed her arms to the elbows. She turned the neck away and fastened it with pins —in a corner i* the corridor, dreading her father'6 est—lo^ exhibit her pretty rounded throat. A rose-colored ribbon, knotted in the rippling masses of her hair, completed her toilet. She was a charming combination of child and woman.

Sundays at this period of her life were her days for coquettine with the public. She looked forward to them all the week through, with a longing for liberty and fresh air.

Early in the morning bhe began her preparations, and stood for hours in her chemisq^before the bit of broken mirror nailed by the window, and as every one could

Bee

her, her mother would be

very much vexed, and ask how long she intended to show herself in that way. But she, quite undisturbed, went on fastenning down the little curls on her forehead with a little sugar and water, an'then sewed the buttons on her boots, or took a stitch or two in her frock bearfoCted all this time, and with her chemise slipping off her rounded shouldtis.

Her father declaied he would exhibit her as the Wild Gir1, at two sous a head. She was very lovely in this scanty cest.ime, the color flushing her cheeks in her indignation at her father's sometimes coarse remarks. She did not dare answer him however, but bit off her thread in silent rage. After breakfast she went down to the court-yard. The house was wrapped in Sunday quiet—the workshops on the lower floor were closed. Through some oflhe open windows the tables were seen laid for dinners, the families being on the Fortifications gettint an appetite."'

Five or six girls—Nana, Pauline and others—lingered in the court-yard for a time, and then too\ flight altogether into the streets, and thence to the outer Boulevards. They walked in a line, filling up the whole sidewalk, with ribbons flutter ing in their uncovered hair.

They managed to 6ee every body and everything through their downcast lids. The streets were their native heath as it were, for they had grown up in them.

Nana walked in the centre and gave her arm to Pauline and, as they were the oldest and tallest of the band, they cave the law to the others, and decided where they should go for the day, and what they should do.

Nana and Pauline were deep ones. They did nothing without premeditationr If they ran it was to show their slended ankles, and when they stopped and pantef for breath it was sure to be at the side «.6me youths—young workmen of their acquaintance—who smoked in their faces as they talked. Nana had her favorite, whom she always saw at a great distance—Victor Fauconnier and Pauline adored a young cabinet-maker, who gave her apples.

Toward sunset the great pleasure of the day began. A band of mountebanks would spread a well-worn carptt, and a circle was formed to look on. Nana and Pauline were always in the thickest of the crowd, their oretty fresh dresses crushed between dirty blou&es, but insensible to the mingled odors ot dust and alcohol, tobacco and dirt. They heard vile language it did not disturb. them it was their own tongue—they had heard little ele. They listened to it with a smile, iheir delicate cheeks unflushed.

The only thing that disturbed them, was the appearance of their fathers, particularly if these fathers seemed to have been drinking. They kept a good lookout fcr this disaster. "Lookl" cried Pauline. "Your father is coming, Nana."

Then the girl would crouch on her knees and bid the others stand close roung her, and when he had passed on alter an inquiring look she would jump

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up, and they would all utter peals of laughter. But cme day Nana was kicked home by her father, ana Broche dragged Pauline away by her ear.

The girls would ordinarily return to the court-yard in the twilight, and establish themselves there with the air of not having been away and each invented a story with which to greet their questioning parents. Nana now received forty sous per day at the place where she had been apprenticed. The Coupeaus would not allowther to change, because she was there under the super*, vision of her aunt, Madame Lerat, who had been employed for many years in the same establishment.

The girl went off at an early hour in her little black dress, which was too short and too tight for her, and Madame Lerat was bidden, whenever she was after her time, to inform Gervaise, who allowed her just twenty minutes, which was quite lona enough. But she was often seven or eight minutes late, and she spent her whole day coaxing her aunt not to tell her mother. Madime Lerat, who was fond of the girl and understood the follies of youth, did not tell but, at the same time, she read Nana many along sermon on her follies, and talked of her own responsibility, and of the dangers a young girl ran in Paris. "You must tell me ever) thing." she saiu. "I am too indulgent tayou, and it evil should come of it I should throw myself into the Seine. Understand me, tny little kitten if a man should speak to you, you must promise to tell me every word he says. Will you swear to do this?"

Nana laughed an equivocal little laugh. Oh! yes, she would promise. But men never spoke to her: she walked too fast for that. What could they say to her? And she explained her irregularity in coming—her five or ten minutes delay— with an innocent little air. She Had stopped at a window to look at pictures, or she had stopped to talk to Pauline. Her aunt might follow her if she did not believe her. "Oh! I will watch her. You need not be afraid I' said the widow to her brother. "I will answer for her, as I would for myself!"

The place where the aunt and niece worked side by side, was a large room, with a long table down the centre. Shelves against the wall were piled with boxes and bundles—all covered with a thick coaling of dust. The gas had blackened the ceiling. The two windows were so large that the women, seated at the table, could see all that was going on in the street below.

Madame Lerat was the first to make her appearance in the morning, but in another fifteen minutes all the others were there. One morning in July Nana came in last, which, however, was the usual case. "I shall be glad when I have a carriage I" she said, as she ran to the window without even taking off her hat—a shabby little straw.

ttWnat

Lisa,

are you looking at? asked her

aunt, suspiciously. "Did your father come with you?" "No, indeed," answered Nana, carelessly "nor am I looking at anything. It is awfully warm, and of all things in the world I hate to be in a hurry."

The morning was indeed frightfully hot. The work-women had closed the blinds, leaving a crack, however, through which they could inspect the street, and they took their seats on each side of the table— Madame Lerat at the further end. There were eight girls, four on either side, each with her little pot of glue, her pincers and other tools heaps of wires of different lengths and sizes lay on the table, spools ot cotton, and of differentcolored papers, petals and leaves cut out of silk, velvet and satin. In the centre, in a goblet, one of the girls had placed a two sous bouquet, which was slowly withering in the heat. "Did you know," said Leonie, as she picked up arose leaf with her pincsrs, "how wretched poor Caroline is with that fellow who used to call for her regularly every night

Before any one could answer} Leonie added: "Hush! here comes Madame."

And in sailed Madame Titreville, a tall, thin woman, who usually remained below in the shop. Her employees stood in deadly terror of her, as she was never known to smile. She went from one to another, finding fault with all: she ordered one woman to pull a marguerite to pieces and make it over, and then went out as stiffly and silently as she had come in.. "Houp 1 Houp said Nana, under her breath, and a giggle ran round the table. "Really, young 'adies," said Madame Lerat, "you will compel me to severe measures."

But no one was listening, and no one feared her. She was very tolerant. They could 6ay what they pleased, provided they put it in decent language.

Nana was certainly in a good school. Her instincts, to be sure, were vicious but these instincts were fostered and developed in this place, as is too often the case, when a crowd of girls are herded together. It was the story of a basket of apples, tha good ones spoiled by those that »'ere already rotten. If two girls were whispering in a corner, ten to one they were telling some story that could not be told aloud.

Nana was not yet thotoughly perverted but the curiosity which had been her distinguishing characteristic as a child had not deserted her, and she scarcely took her eyes from a girl by the name of

THE TBRRE UAllTE WEEKLY GAZETTE.

about whom strange stories *ere tOld. /y-'

"How warm it is!" she exclaimed, suddenly rising and pushing open the b)mds. Leonie saw a man standing on he sidewalk opposite.

Who is that old fellow she said. "He has been there a full quarter of an hour." "Some fool who has nothing better to do, I suppose," said Madame Lerat. "Nana, will you come back to your work I have told you that you should not go to that window."

Nana took up her violets, and they ail began to watcn this man. He was well drested, about fifty, pale and grave. For a lull hour he watched the windows." "Look said Leonie, "he has an eyeglass. Oh he is very chic. He is waiting for Augustine.*' But Augustine sharply answered that she did not like old men. "You make a great mistake then."said Madame Lerat, with her equivocal smile.

Nana listened to the conversation which followed—revelling in indecency— as it^uch at home in it, as a fish i6 in water. AH the time her fingers were busy at frk. She wound her violet

stems,

and fastened in the leaves with a slender strip of green paper. A drop of gum— and then behold a bunch of delicate fresh verdure which would fascinate any iady. Her fingers were esepcially deft by Nature. No instructions could have imparted this quality.

The gentleman had gone away, and the workshop settled down into quiet once more. When the bell rang for twelve, Nana started up, and said she would go out and execute any commissions. Leonie sent for two sous worth of shrimp Augustine for some fried potatoes Sophie for a sausage and Lisa for a bunch of radishes. As she was going out. her aunt said, quietly: "I will go with you. I want something."

Lo! in the lane running by t'ue shop was the mysterious stranger. Nana turned verv red, and her aunt drew hjr arm within her own, and hurried her along.

So, then, he had come for her! Was net this pretty behavior for a girl of her age? And Madame Lerat asked question after question but Nana knew nothing of him, she declared, though he had followed her for five days.

Madame Lerat looked at the man out of the corners of her eyes. "You must tell me everything," she said.

While the talked, they went from shop to shop, and their arms grew full of small packages but they hurried back still talking of the gentleman. "It may be a good thing," said Madame Lerat, "if his intentions are only honorable."

The workwomen eat their breakfast on their knees they were in no hurry,either, to return to their work when, suddenly, Leonie uttered a low hiss, and like magic, each girl was busy. Madame Titreville entered the room, and again made her round?.

Madame Lerat did not allow her niece after this day to set foot in the street without her. Nana at first was inclined to rebel, but on the whole, it rather flattered her vanity to be guanted like a treasure. They had discoverA that the man who followed her with such persistency was a manufacturer of buttons, and one night the aunt went directly up to him and told him that he was behaving in a most improper manner. He bowed, and turning on

hi9

heel, departed

—not angrily by any means, and the next day he did as usual. One day, however, he deliberately walked between the aunt and niece, and said something to Nana in a low voice. This frightened Madame Lerat, who went at once to her brother and told him the whole story, whereupon he flew into a violent rage, bhook the girl until her teeth chattered, and talked to her as if she were the vilest of the vile. "Let her be!" said Gervaise, with all a woman's sense. "Let her be! Don't you see that you are putting all sorts of things into her head?"

And it was quite true he had put ideas into her head, and taught her some things she did not know before, which was very astonishing. One morning he saw her with something in a paper. It was poudrede riz, which, with a most perverted taste, she was plastering upun her delicate skin. He rubbed the whole of the powder into her hair until she looked like a miller's daughter. Another time she came In with seme red ribbons to retrim her old hat he asked furiously where she got them.

Whenever he saw her with a bit of finery, her father flew at her with insulting suspicions and angry violence. She defended herself and her small possessions with equal violence. One day he snatched from her a little cornelian heart, and ground it to dust under his heel.

She stood looking on, white and stern for two years she had longed for this heart. She said to herself that she would not tear 6uch treatment long. Coupeau occasionally realized that he had made a mistake but the mischief was done.

He went every morning with Nana to the 6hop door, and waited outside for five minutes to be sure that she had gone in. But one morning, having stopped to talk with a friend on the corner lor some time, he saw her come out again, and vanish like a flash around the corner. She had gone up two flights higher than the room where she worked and had sat down on the stairs until she thought him well out ot the way.

When he went to Madame Lerat, she told him that she washed her hands of the whole business she had done all she could, and now he must take care of his daughter himself. She advised him to marry t'ie rl at once, or she would do worse.

All the people in the neighborhood knew Nana's aatmrer oy sight. He had been in the court-yard several times, and once he had been seen on the stairs.

The Lorilleux threatened to ifttfve away if this sort of thing went on, and Madame Boche expressed greut pity for this poor gentleman whom this scamp of a girl wa9 leading by the nose.

At first, Nana thought the whole thing a great joke, but at the end of a month she began to.be afraid of him. Often when she stopped before the jeweller's he would suddenly appear at her side, and ask what she wanted.

She did not care so much for jewelry or ornaments as she did for many other things. Sometimes as the mud was spattered over her from the wheels of a

carriage, shift j^rew faint and sick with envious longings to be better dressed^-to go to the theatre —to have a pretty room all to herself. She longed to see another •ide of life—to know something of its pleasures. The stranger invariably appeared at these moments, but she always turned and fled, so great was her horror of him.

But when winter came, existence' became well nigh intolerable. Each evening Nana was beaten, and when her father was tired of this amusement, her mother scolded. Thty rarely had anything to eat. and were alwaye cold. If the girl bought some trifling article of dress, it was taken trom her.

No! This life could not last. She no longer cared for her father. He had thoroughly disgusted her, and now her mother drank too. Gervaise went to the Assommoir nightly—for her husband,she said—and remained there. When Nana »aw her mother sometimes, as she passed the window, seated among a crowd of men, she turned livid with rage, because youth has little patience with the vice of intemperance. It was dreary life for her—a comfortless home and a drunken father and mother. A saint on earth could not have remained there, that she knew very well and she said she would make her escape some fine day, and then perhaps her parents would be sorry, aud would admit that they had pushed her out of the nest.

One Saturday, Nana coming in, found her mother and father in a deplorable condition—Coupeau lying acioss the bed, and Gervaise sitting in a chair, swaying to and fro. She had forgotten the dinner, and one untrimmed candle lighted the dismal scene.

Is that you, girl stammered Gervatse. Well your father will settle with you

Nana did not reply. She looked around the cheerless room, at the cold stove, at her parents. She did not 6tep across the threshold. She turned and went away.

And she did not come back The next day, when her father and mother were sober, they each reproacned the other for Nana's' flight.

This was really a terrible blow for Gervaise. who had no longer the smallest motive for self-control, and she abandoned herself at once to a wild orgie that lasted three days. Coupeau gave his daughter up, and smoked his pipe quietly. Occasionally, however, when eating his dinner, he would snatch up a knife and wave it windly in the air, crying out that he was dishonored, and then laying it down as suddenly, resumed his seat and his soup.

In this great house, when each month a girl or two, took flight, this incident astonished no one. The Lorilleax were rather triumphant at the success of their prophecy. Lantier defended Nana.

Of course," he said, she has done wrong but bless my heart, what would you have A girl as pretty as that could not live all her days in such poverty!" "You know nothing about it! cried Madame Lorilleux one evening when they were all assembled in the room of the Concierge. Wooden legs sold her daughter out and out. 1 know it I have positiye truth of what I say. The time that old gentleman was seen on the stair*, he was going to pay the money. Nana and he were seen together at the Ambigu the other night! I tell you I know it!

They finished their coffee. The tale might or might not be true it was not improbable, at all .events. And after this it was ciiculated and generally believed in the Quartier, that Gervaise had sold her daughter.

The clear-starcher, meanwhile, was going from bad to worse. She had been dismissed from Madame Fauconnier's, and in the last few weeks had worked for eight laundresses, one after the other —dismissed from all for her untidiness.

As she seemed to have lost all her skill in ironing, she went out by the day to wash, and by degrees was intrusted with only the roughest work. This hard labor did not tend to beautify her. either. She continued to grow stouter and stouter in spite of her scanty food and hard labor.

Her womanly pride and yanity had all departed. Lantier never seemed to see her when they met by chance, and she hardly noticed that the liaison which had stretched along for so many years, had ended in a mutual disenchantment.

Lantier had done wisely, so far as he was concerned, in counseling Virginie to open the kind of a shop she had. He adored sweets, and could have lived on pralines and gum-drops, sugar-plums and chocolate.

Sugared almonds were his especial delight For a year his principal food was bon-bons. He opened all the jars, boxes and drawers when he was left alone in the shop and often with five or six persons standing around, he would take off the cover of a jar on the counter, and put in his hand and crunch down an aimond. The cover was not put on again, and the jar was soon empty. '"It was a habit of hie," they all said "besides he was subject to a tickling in his throat!"

He talked a great deal to PoissoA of an invention ot his which was worth a fortune—an umbrella and hat in one that is to say, a hat which, at the first drops of a shower, would expand into an umbrella.

Lantier suggested to Virginie that she should have Gervaise come in once each week, to wash the floors, shop and the rooms. This she did, and received thirty sous each time. Gervaise appeared on Saturday mornings, with her bucket and brush, without seeming to suffer a single pang at doing this menial work in the house where she had lived as mistress.

On Saturday Gervaise had hard work. It had rained for three days, and all the mud of the streets seemed to be brought into the shop. Virginie stood behind the counter, with collar and cuffs trimmed with lace. Near her on a low chair lounged Lantier, and he was as usual eating candy. "Really, Madame Coupeau cried Virginie, "can't you do better than that? You have left all the dirt in the corners. Don't you see? Oblige me by doing that over again."

Gervaise obeyed. She went back to

the

corner, and scrubbed it again. She was on her hands and knees, with her

sleeves

rolled up over her red arms. Her

old skirt clung close to her stout form, and the sweat poured down her face. "The more elbow grease she uses, the

more she shines,* said Lantier, sententiously, with his mouth full. Virginie. leaning back in her chair with the a of a princess, followed the progress of the work with half-closed eyes. "A little more to the right. Remember those spots must all be taken out. Last Saturday, you know, I was not pleased."

And then Lantier and Virginie fell iqto a conversation, while Gervaise crawled along the floor in the dirt at their feet.

Madame Poisson enjoyed this, for her cat's eyes sparkled witn malicious joy, and she glanced at Lantier with a smile. At last she was avenged for that mortification at the Lavatory, which had for years weighed heavy on her soul. "By the way," said Lantier, addressing himself to Gervaise, "I saw Nana last night."

Gervaise started to her feet with her brush in her hand. "Yes, was coming- down La Rue des Martyrs. In front of me was a young girl on the arm of an old gentleman. As I passed I glanced at her face, and assure you that it was Nana. She was well dressed and lobked happy." "Ah!" said Gervaise in a low dull voice.

Lantier, who had finished one jar, now began on another. "What a girl that is!" he continued. "Imagine that she made me a sign to fol* low with the most perfect self-possession. She got rid of her old gentleman in a cafe and beckoned me to the door. She asked me to tell her about everybody.*' "Ah!" repeated Gervaise.

She stood waiting. Surely this was not all. Her daughter must have sent her some especial message. Lantier eat his sugar-plums. "I would not have looked at her," said Virginie. "I sincerely trust, if I should meet her, that she would not speak to me, for really it would mortify me beyond expression. I am sorry for you, Madame Gervaise, but the truth is, that Poisson arrests every day a dozen just such girls."

Gervaise said nothing her eyes were fixed on vacancv. She shook her head slowly, as if in reply to her own thoughts. "Pray make haste," exclaimed Virginie, fretfully. "I do not care lo have this scrubbing going on until midnight."

Gervaise returned to her work. With her two hands clasped around the handle of the brush she pushed the water before her toward the door. After this she had only to rinse the floor after sweeping the dirtv water into the gutter.

Mfhen all was accomplished she stood before the counter waiting for her money. When Virginie tossed it toward her she did not take it up instantly. "Then she said hothing else?" Gervaise asked. "She!" Lantier exclaimed. ''Who is she? Ah! yes, I remember. Nana! No she said nothing more."

And Gervaiss went away with her thirty sous in her hand—her skirts dripping*and her shoes leaving the marks of her broad soles on the sidewalk.

In the Quarteir, all the women who drank like herself took her part, and de clared she had been driven to intemperance by her daughter's misconduct She, too, began to believe this herself, and assumed at times a tragic air, and wished she was dead. Unquestionably she had suffered from Nana's departure. A mother does not like to feel that her daughter will leave her for the first per son who asks her to do so.

But she was too thoroughly demorilized to care long, and soon 6he had but one idea that Nana belonged to her— and that she had been stolen from her Had she not aright to her own property?

She roamed the streets day after day, night after night, hoping to see the girl. That year half the Quartier was being demolished. All one side of the Rut des Poissonniers lay flat on the ground. Lantier and Poisson disputed day after day on these demolitions. The one de clared that the Emperor wanted to build palaces and drive the lower .classes out of Paris, while Poisson, white with rage, said the Emperor would pull down the whole of Paris merely to give work to the people.

Gervaise did not like the improvements either, or the changes in the dingy Quartier, to which she was accustomed. It was, in fact, a little hard for her to see all these eq^ellishments, just when she was going dWtrn hill so fast, and she grumbled as she fell over the piles of brick and mortar, while she was wandering about in search of Nana.

She had heard of her daughter several times. There are always plenty of people to tell you things you do not care to hear. She was told that Nana had left her elderly friend for the sake of some young fellow.

She heard, too, that Nana had been seen at a ball in the Grand Salon—Rue de la Chapelle and Coupeau and she began to frequent all these places, one after another, whenever they had the money to spend.

But at the end of a month they had forgotten Nana, and1 went for their own pleasure. They sat for hours, with their elbows on a table—which shook with the movements of the dancers—amused by the sight.

One November night they entered the Grand Salon, as much to get warm as anything else. Outside it was hailing, and the roams were naturally crowded. They could not find a table, and they stood waiting until they could establish themselves. Coupeau was directly in the mouth of the passage, and a young man, in a frock coat, was thrown against him. The youth uttered an exclamation of disgust, as he began to dust off his coat with his handkerchief. The blouse worn by Coupeau was assuredly none of the cleanest. "Look here, my good fellow!" cried Coupeau, angrily, "those airs are very unnecessary. I would have you to know that the blouse of a workingman can do your coat no harm, if it has touched it!"

The young man turned around and looked at Coupeau from head to foot. "Learn," continued the angry workman, "that the blouse is the only wear for a man!"

Gervaise endeavored to calm her husband, who, however, tapped his ragged breast and repeated loudly— "The only wear for a man, I tell you!"

The youth slipped away and was lost in the crowd. Coupeau tried to find him, but it was quite impossible the

crowd

Jl

was so great.

The orchestra waa playing a quadrille,

and the dancers 'were bringing up the dust from the floor in great clouds, which obscured the gas. "Look!" said Gervaise. suddenly. "What it it?" "Look at that velvet bonnet!"' ..

Quite at the left there was a velvet bonnet, black with plumes, only too suggestive of a hearse. They watched these nodding plumes breathlessly. "Do you not know that hair?'' murmured Gervaise, hoarsely, "I am sure it is she!"

In one second Coupeau waa in the centre of the crowd. Yes, it was Nana, and in what a costume! She wore a ragged silk dress, stained and torn. She had no shawl over her shoulders to conceal the f»ct that half the buttonhole^, on her dress were burst out. in spite of all her shabbiness the girl was pretty and fresh. Nana, of course, dancea on unsuspiciously. Her airi and graces were beyond beliet She courtesied to the very ground, and then in a' twinkling threw her foot over her partner's head. A circle was formed, and she was applauded vociferously.

At this moment Coupeau fell on his daughter. "Don't try and keep me back!" he said, "for have her I will!"

Nana turned and saw her father and mother. Coupeau discovered that his daughter's partner was the young man for whom he had been looking. Gervaise pushed him aside and walked up to Nana and gave her two cuffs on her ears. One sent the plumed hat on one side, the other left five red marks on that pale cheek. The orchestra played on. Nina neither wept nor moved.

The dancers began to grow very angry. They ordered the Coupeau party to leave the room. "Go!" said Gervaise, "and do not attempt to leave ue for so sure as you do. you will be giveil in charge of a policeman."

Theyoungman had prudently disappeared. Nana's old life now began again for after the girl had slept for twelve hours on a stretch, she was very gentle and sweet for a week. She wore a plain gown and a simple hat, and declared she would like to work at home. She rose early and took a seat at her table by five o'clock the'first morning, and tried to roll her violet stems but her fingers had lost their cunning in the six months in which they had been idle.

Then the glue-pot dried up, the petals and the paper were dusty and spotted the mistress of the establishment came for her tools and material, and made more than one scene. Nana relapsed into utter indolence, quarrelling with her mother from morning until night. Of course an end must come to this, so one fine evening the girl disappeared.

The Lorilleux, who had been greatly amused by the repentance and return of their nieee, now nearly died laughing. If she returned again they would advise the Coupeaus to put her in a cage like a canary.

The Coupeaup pretended to be rather pleased, but in their hearts they raged particularly as they soon learned that Nana was frequently seen in the Quartier. Gervaise declared this was done by the girl to annoy them.

Nana adorned, all the balls in the vicinity, and the Coupeaus knew that they could (ay their hands on her at any time they chodfe but they did not choose, and they avoided meeting hef.

But one night, just as they were going to bed, they heard a rap on the door. It was Nana, who came to ask, as coolly as possible, if she could sletp there. What a state she was in! all rags and dirt She devoured a crust of dried bread, and fell asleep with a part of it in her hand. This continued for some time, the girl coming and going like a will-of-the-wisp. Weeks and months would elapse without a sign from her, and then she would reappear, without a word to say where she had been, sometimes in rags and sometimes well dressed. Finally her parents began to take these proceedings as a matter of course. She might come in—they said—or stay out, just as she pleased, provided she kept the door shut. Only one thing exasperated Gervaise now, and that was when her daughter appeared with a bonnet and feathers, and a train. This she would not endure. When Nana came to her it must be as a simple working-woman! None of this dearly bought finery should be exhibited there, for these trained drfesses had created a great excitement in the house.

One day Gervaise reproached her daughter violently for the life she led, and finally, in her rage, took her by the shoulder and shook her. "Let me bel" cried the girl. "Yoa are the last person to talk to me in that way. You did as you pleased why can't I do the same?" "What do you mean?" stammered the mother. "I have never said anything about it, because it was none of my business but do you think I did not know where you were when my father lay snoring? Let me alone. It was you who jet me the example."

Gervaise turned away pale and trembling, while Nana composed herself to sleep again.

Coupeau's life was a very regular one— that is to say, he did not drink for six months and then yielded to temptation,* which brought him up with around turn and sent him to Sainte-Anne's. When he came out he did the same thing, so that in three years he was seven times at Sainte-Anne's and each time he came out. the fellow looked more broken and less able to stand another orgie.

The poison had penetrated his entire system. He had grown very thin, his cheeks were hollow, and his eyes inflamed. Those who knew his age shuddered as they saw him pass, bent and decrepit as a man of eighty. The trembling of his hands had so increased that some days he was obliged to use them both, in raising his glass to his lips. This annoyed him intensely, and seemed to be the only symptom of his failing health which disturbed him. He sometimes swore violently at these unruly members, and at others sat for hours looking at these fluttering hands as if trying to discover by what strange mechanism they were moved. And one night Gervaise found him sitting in this

(Joittiwet on Third Page.