In the cafe the too numerous crowd of customers were squeezing
themselves round the marble-topped tables. Several were standing up,
drinking in a great hurry. The tall mirrors reflected this thronging
world of heads to infinity and magnified the narrow room beyond measure
with its three chandeliers, its moleskin-covered seats and its winding
staircase draped with red. Steiner went and seated himself at a table in
the first saloon, which opened full on the boulevard, its doors having
been removed rather early for the time of year. As Fauchery and La
Faloise were passing the banker stopped them.
"Come and take a bock with us, eh?" they said.
But he was too preoccupied by an idea; he wanted to have a bouquet
thrown to Nana. At last he called a waiter belonging to the cafe, whom
he familiarly addressed as Auguste. Mignon, who was listening, looked at
him so sharply that he lost countenance and stammered out:
"Two bouquets, Auguste, and deliver them to the attendant. A bouquet for
each of these ladies! Happy thought, eh?"
At the other end of the saloon, her shoulders resting against the frame
of a mirror, a girl, some eighteen years of age at the outside, was
leaning motionless in front of her empty glass as though she had been
benumbed by long and fruitless waiting.
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