"Oh, that poor, dear Louiset!" said Nana. "Are you very drenched, my
darling?"
The little thing silently allowed his hands to be wiped. The young woman
had taken out her handkerchief. Then she dabbed it over Bijou, who was
trembling more violently than ever. It would not matter in the least;
there were a few drops on the white satin of her dress, but she didn't
care a pin for them. The bouquets, refreshed by the rain, glowed like
snow, and she smelled one ecstatically, drenching her lips in it as
though it were wet with dew.
Meanwhile the burst of rain had suddenly filled the stands. Nana looked
at them through her field glasses. At that distance you could only
distinguish a compact, confused mass of people, heaped up, as it were,
on the ascending ranges of steps, a dark background relieved by light
dots which were human faces. The sunlight filtered in through openings
near the roof at each end of the stand and detached and illumined
portions of the seated multitude, where the ladies' dresses seemed to
lose their distinguishing colors. But Nana was especially amused by the
ladies whom the shower had driven from the rows of chairs ranged on the
sand at the base of the stands. As courtesans were absolutely forbidden
to enter the enclosure, she began making exceedingly bitter remarks
about all the fashionable women therein assembled.
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