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?‰mile, 1840-1902

"Four Short Stories By Emile Zola"

All were friends; all were deeply exercised by the
same idea of paternity. They seemed to be mutually excusing themselves,
and they looked as confused as if they had done something clumsy.
Eventually, however, they put a bold face on the matter. It had nothing
to do with them: the fault was hers! What a stunner that Nana was, eh?
One would never have believed her capable of such a fake! And with that
they departed one by one, walking on tiptoe, as though in a chamber of
death where you cannot laugh.
"Come up all the same, monsieur," said Zoe to Muffat. "Madame is much
better and will see you. We are expecting the doctor, who promised to
come back this morning."
The lady's maid had persuaded Georges to go back home to sleep, and
upstairs in the drawing room only Satin remained. She lay stretched on a
divan, smoking a cigarette and scanning the ceiling. Amid the household
scare which had followed the accident she had been white with rage,
had shrugged her shoulders violently and had made ferocious remarks.
Accordingly, when Zoe was passing in front of her and telling Monsieur
that poor, dear Madame had suffered a great deal:
"That's right; it'll teach him!" said Satin curtly.
They turned round in surprise, but she had not moved a muscle; her eyes
were still turned toward the ceiling, and her cigarette was still wedged
tightly between her lips.


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