Clarisse was
momentarily inclined to turn La Faloise out. The idiot wasn't fond of
animals, and that put the finishing touch to him! He was busy drawing in
his legs because the cat was there, and he didn't want to touch her.
"He'll nip you; take care!" said Pluto, who was a joker, as he went
upstairs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
After that Clarisse gave up the idea of hauling La Faloise over the
coals. She had seen Mme Bron giving the letter to Simonne's young
man, and he had gone out to read it under the gas light in the lobby.
"Impossible tonight, darling--I'm booked." And with that he had
peaceably departed, as one who was doubtless used to the formula. He,
at any rate, knew how to conduct himself! Not so the others, the fellows
who sat there doggedly on Mme Bron's battered straw-bottomed chairs
under the great glazed lantern, where the heat was enough to roast you
and there was an unpleasant odor. What a lot of men it must have held!
Clarisse went upstairs again in disgust, crossed over behind scenes and
nimbly mounted three flights of steps which led to the dressing rooms,
in order to bring Simonne her reply.
Downstairs the prince had withdrawn from the rest and stood talking to
Nana.
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