The old life began again.
After sleeping for twelve hours in her closet, Nana behaved very well for a week or so.
She had patched herself a modest little dress, and wore a cap with the strings tied under her chignon.
Seized indeed with remarkable fervor, she declared she would work at home, where one could earn what one liked without hearing any nasty work-room talk; and she procured some work and installed herself at a table, getting up at five o’clock in the morning on the first few days to roll her sprigs of violets.
But when she had delivered a few gross, she stretched her arms and yawned over her work, with her hands cramped, for she had lost her knack of stem-rolling, and suffocated, shut up like this at home after allowing herself so much open air freedom during the last six months.
Then the glue dried, the petals and the green paper got stained with grease, and the flower-dealer came three times in person to make a row and claim his spoiled materials.
Nana idled along, constantly getting a hiding from her father, and wrangling with her mother morning and night — quarrels in which the two women flung horrible words at each other’s head.
It couldn’t last; the twelfth day she took herself off, with no more luggage than her modest dress on her back and her cap perched over one ear.
The Lorilleuxs, who had pursed their lips on hearing of her return and repentance, nearly died of laughter now.
Second performance, eclipse number two, all aboard for the train for Saint-Lazare, the prison-hospital for streetwalkers!
No, it was really too comical.
Nana took herself off in such an amusing style.
Well, if the Coupeaus wanted to keep her in the future, they must shut her up in a cage.
In the presence of other people the Coupeaus pretended they were very glad to be rid of the girl, though in reality they were enraged.
However, rage can’t last forever, and soon they heard without even blinking that Nana was seen in the neighborhood.
Gervaise, who accused her of doing it to enrage them, set herself above the scandal; she might meet her daughter on the street, she said; she wouldn’t even dirty her hand to cuff her; yes, it was all over; she might have seen her lying in the gutter, dying on the pavement, and she would have passed by without even admitting that such a hussy was her own child.
Nana meanwhile was enlivening the dancing halls of the neighborhood.
She was known from the
“Ball of Queen Blanche” to the
“Great Hall of Folly.”
When she entered the
“Elysee-Montmartre,” folks climbed onto the tables to see her do the “sniffling crawfish” during the pastourelle.
As she had twice been turned out of the “Chateau Rouge” hall, she walked outside the door waiting for someone she knew to escort her inside.
The “Black Ball” on the outer Boulevard and the “Grand Turk” in the Rue des Poissonniers, were respectable places where she only went when she had some fine dress on.
Of all the jumping places of the neighborhood, however, those she most preferred were the
“Hermitage Ball” in a damp courtyard and
“Robert’s Ball” in the Impasse du Cadran, two dirty little halls, lighted up with a half dozen oil lamps, and kept very informally, everyone pleased and everyone free, so much so that the men and their girls kissed each other at their ease, in the dances, without being disturbed.
Nana had ups and downs, perfect transformations, now tricked out like a stylish woman and now all dirt.
Ah! she had a fine life.
On several occasions the Coupeaus fancied they saw her in some shady dive.
They turned their backs and decamped in another direction so as not to be obliged to recognize her.
They didn’t care to be laughed at by a whole dancing hall again for the sake of bringing such a dolt home.
One night as they were going to bed, however, someone knocked at the door.
It was Nana who matter-of-factly came to ask for a bed; and in what a state.
Mon Dieu! her head was bare, her dress in tatters, and her boots full of holes — such a toilet as might have led the police to run her in, and take her off to the Depot.
Naturally enough she received a hiding, and then she gluttonously fell on a crust of stale bread and went to sleep, worn out, with the last mouthful between her teeth.
Then this sort of life continued.
As soon as she was somewhat recovered she would go off and not a sight or sound of her.
Weeks or months would pass and she would suddenly appear with no explanation.
The Coupeaus got used to these comings and goings.
Well, as long as she didn’t leave the door open.
What could you expect?
There was only one thing that really bothered Gervaise.
This was to see her daughter come home in a dress with a train and a hat covered with feathers.
No, she couldn’t stomach this display.
Nana might indulge in riotous living if she chose, but when she came home to her mother’s she ought to dress like a workgirl.
The dresses with trains caused quite a sensation in the house; the Lorilleuxs sneered; Lantier, whose mouth sneered, turned the girl round to sniff at her delicious aroma; the Boches had forbidden Pauline to associate with this baggage in her frippery.
And Gervaise was also angered by Nana’s exhausted slumber, when after one of her adventures, she slept till noon, with her chignon undone and still full of hair pins, looking so white and breathing so feebly that she seemed to be dead.
Her mother shook her five or six times in the course of the morning, threatening to throw a jugful of water over her.
The sight of this handsome lazy girl, half naked and besotted with wine, exasperated her, as she saw her lying there.