The last-named personage
was enraptured. Indeed, amid all the joy which Nana now quite naturally
diffused, Fontan alone remained unmoved. In the middle of the yellow
lamplight, against which the sharp outline of his goatlike profile
shone out with great distinctness, he stood showing off his figure and
affecting the pose of one who has been cruelly abandoned. Nana went
quietly up and shook hands with him.
"How are you getting on?"
"Oh, pretty fairly. And how are you?"
"Very well, thank you."
That was all. They seemed to have only parted at the doors of the
theater the day before. Meanwhile the players were waiting about, but
Bordenave said that the third act would not be rehearsed. And so it
chanced that old Bosc went grumbling away at the proper time, whereas
usually the company were needlessly detained and lost whole afternoons
in consequence. Everyone went off. Down on the pavement they were
blinded by the broad daylight and stood blinking their eyes in a dazed
sort of way, as became people who had passed three hours squabbling with
tight-strung nerves in the depths of a cellar. The count, with
racked limbs and vacant brain, got into a conveyance with Nana, while
Labordette took Fauchery off and comforted him.
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