And there in the darkness, on the white
surface of a wide, outspread petticoat, which alone remained clearly
visible, he saw Nana lying stretched in the arms of Georges. Denial in
any shape or form was impossible. He gave a choking cry and stood gaping
at them.
Nana had bounded up, and now she pushed him into the bedroom in order to
give the lad time to escape.
"Come in," she murmured with reeling senses, "I'll explain."
She was exasperated at being thus surprised. Never before had she given
way like this in her own house, in her own drawing room, when the doors
were open. It was a long story: Georges and she had had a disagreement;
he had been mad with jealousy of Philippe, and he had sobbed so bitterly
on her bosom that she had yielded to him, not knowing how else to calm
him and really very full of pity for him at heart. And on this solitary
occasion, when she had been stupid enough to forget herself thus with a
little rascal who could not even now bring her bouquets of violets,
so short did his mother keep him--on this solitary occasion the count
turned up and came straight down on them. 'Gad, she had very bad luck!
That was what one got if one was a good-natured wench!
Meanwhile in the bedroom, into which she had pushed Muffat, the darkness
was complete.
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