Oh yes, you know, I'm the right sort; I don't mince matters. Mamma was
a laundress; Daddy used to get drunk, and he died of it! There! If it
doesn't suit you--if you're ashamed of my family--"
They all protested. What was she after now? They had every sort of
respect for her family! But she went on:
"If you're ashamed of my family you'll please leave me, because I'm not
one of those women who deny their father and mother. You must take me
and them together, d'you understand?"
They took her as required; they accepted the dad, the mamma, the past;
in fact, whatever she chose. With their eyes fixed on the tablecloth,
the four now sat shrinking and insignificant while Nana, in a transport
of omnipotence, trampled on them in the old muddy boots worn long since
in the Rue de la Goutte-d'Or. She was determined not to lay down the
cudgels just yet. It was all very fine to bring her fortunes, to build
her palaces; she would never leave off regretting the time when she
munched apples! Oh, what bosh that stupid thing money was! It was made
for the tradespeople! Finally her outburst ended in a sentimentally
expressed desire for a simple, openhearted existence, to be passed in an
atmosphere of universal benevolence.
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