She admitted that it was only necessary to
leave Fontan and seek powerful protectors. But as matters stood it was
in vain that Satin talked to her of certain lists of women's names,
which it was the duty of the plainclothes men to consult, and of certain
photographs accompanying the lists, the originals of which were on no
account to be touched. The reassurance did not make her tremble the
less, and she still saw herself hustled and dragged along and finally
subjected to the official medical inspection. The thought of the
official armchair filled her with shame and anguish, for had she not
bade it defiance a score of times?
Now it so happened that one evening toward the close of September, as
she was walking with Satin in the Boulevard Poissonniere, the latter
suddenly began tearing along at a terrible pace. And when Nana asked her
what she meant thereby:
"It's the plain-clothes men!" whispered Satin. "Off with you! Off with
you!" A wild stampede took place amid the surging crowd. Skirts streamed
out behind and were torn. There were blows and shrieks. A woman fell
down. The crowd of bystanders stood hilariously watching this rough
police raid while the plain-clothes men rapidly narrowed their circle.
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