Indeed, that was how their liaison
ended.
One evening Nana came in toward eleven o'clock and found the door
bolted. She tapped once--there was no answer; twice--still no answer.
Meanwhile she saw light under the door, and Fontan inside did not
trouble to move. She rapped again unwearyingly; she called him and began
to get annoyed. At length Fontan's voice became audible; he spoke slowly
and rather unctuously and uttered but this one word.
"MERDE!"
She beat on the door with her fists.
"MERDE!"
She banged hard enough to smash in the woodwork.
"MERDE!"
And for upward of a quarter of an hour the same foul expression buffeted
her, answering like a jeering echo to every blow wherewith she shook
the door. At length, seeing that she was not growing tired, he opened
sharply, planted himself on the threshold, folded his arms and said in
the same cold, brutal voice:
"By God, have you done yet? What d'you want? Are you going to let us
sleep in peace, eh? You can quite see I've got company tonight."
He was certainly not alone, for Nana perceived the little woman from
the Bouffes with the untidy tow hair and the gimlet-hole eyes, standing
enjoying herself in her shift among the furniture she had paid for.
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