"Rather!" replied the latter aloud.
The dresser, a very ugly and extremely familiar young girl, who was
helping Simonne into her coat, positively writhed with laughter. The
three pushed each other and babbled little phrases which redoubled their
merriment.
"Come, Clarisse, kiss the gentleman," said Fauchery. "You know, he's got
the rhino."
And turning to the count:
"You'll see, she's very nice! She's going to kiss you!"
But Clarisse was disgusted by the men. She spoke in violent terms of the
dirty lot waiting at the porter's lodge down below. Besides, she was
in a hurry to go downstairs again; they were making her miss her last
scene. Then as Fauchery blocked up the doorway, she gave Muffat a couple
of kisses on the whiskers, remarking as she did so:
"It's not for you, at any rate! It's for that nuisance Fauchery!"
And with that she darted off, and the count remained much embarrassed
in his father-in-law's presence. The blood had rushed to his face. In
Nana's dressing room, amid all the luxury of hangings and mirrors, he
had not experienced the sharp physical sensation which the shameful
wretchedness of that sorry garret excited within him, redolent as it was
of these two girls' self-abandonment.
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