There was no harm in it all; they were only sweets! But at last one
evening there only remained a single little wood. She swallowed it up
disdainfully, as it was hardly worth the trouble opening one's mouth
for. La Faloise laughed idiotically and sucked the top of his stick. His
debts were crushing him; he was not worth a hundred francs a year, and
he saw that he would be compelled to go back into the country and
live with his maniacal uncle. But that did not matter; he had achieved
smartness; the Figaro had printed his name twice. And with his meager
neck sticking up between the turndown points of his collar and his
figure squeezed into all too short a coat, he would swagger about,
uttering his parrotlike exclamations and affecting a solemn listlessness
suggestive of an emotionless marionette. He so annoyed Nana that she
ended by beating him.
Meanwhile Fauchery had returned, his cousin having brought him. Poor
Fauchery had now set up housekeeping. After having thrown over the
countess he had fallen into Rose's hands, and she treated him as a
lawful wife would have done. Mignon was simply Madame's major-domo.
Installed as master of the house, the journalist lied to Rose and took
all sorts of precautions when he deceived her.
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