Oh, those kicks! How heartily
she rained them on the Tuileries and the majesty of the imperial court,
throning on high above an abject and trembling people. That's what
she thought of society! That was her revenge! It was an affair of
unconscious hereditary spite; it had come to her in her blood. Then when
once the chamberlain was undressed and his coat lay spread on the ground
she shrieked, "Jump!" And he jumped. She shrieked, "Spit!" And he spat.
With a shriek she bade him walk on the gold, on the eagles, on the
decorations, and he walked on them. Hi tiddly hi ti! Nothing was left;
everything was going to pieces. She smashed a chamberlain just as she
smashed a flask or a comfit box, and she made filth of him, reduced him
to a heap of mud at a street corner.
Meanwhile the goldsmiths had failed to keep their promise, and the bed
was not delivered till one day about the middle of January. Muffat was
just then in Normandy, whither he had gone to sell a last stray shred of
property, but Nana demanded four thousand francs forthwith. He was not
due in Paris till the day after tomorrow, but when his business was once
finished he hastened his return and without even paying a flying visit
in the Rue Miromesnil came direct to the Avenue de Villiers.
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