Zoe returned, murmuring with a
confidential air:
"It's a woman."
She had seen this woman a score of times, only she made believe never
to recognize her and to be quite ignorant of the nature of her relations
with ladies in difficulties.
"She has told me her name--Madame Tricon."
"The Tricon," cried Nana. "Dear me! That's true. I'd forgotten her. Show
her in."
Zoe ushered in a tall old lady who wore ringlets and looked like
a countess who haunts lawyers' offices. Then she effaced herself,
disappearing noiselessly with the lithe, serpentine movement wherewith
she was wont to withdraw from a room on the arrival of a gentleman.
However, she might have stayed. The Tricon did not even sit down. Only a
brief exchange of words took place.
"I have someone for you today. Do you care about it?"
"Yes. How much?"
"Twenty louis."
"At what o'clock?"
"At three. It's settled then?"
"It's settled."
Straightway the Tricon talked of the state of the weather. It was dry
weather, pleasant for walking. She had still four or five persons to
see. And she took her departure after consulting a small memorandum
book. When she was once more alone Nana appeared comforted. A slight
shiver agitated her shoulders, and she wrapped herself softly up
again in her warm bedclothes with the lazy movements of a cat who is
susceptible to cold.
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