Nana suddenly disappeared. It was a fresh plunge, an escapade, a flight into barbarous regions. Before her departure she had treated herself to a new sensation: she had held a sale and had made a clean sweep of everything--house, furniture, jewelry, nay, even dresses and linen. Prices were cited--the five days' sale produced more than six hundred thousand francs. For the last time Paris had seen her in a fairy piece. It was called Melusine, and it played at the Theatre de la Gaite, which the penniless Bordenave had taken out of sheer audacity. Here she again found herself in company with Prulliere and Fontan. Her part was simply spectacular, but it was the great attraction of the piece, consisting, as it did, of three POSES PLASTIQUES, each of which represented the same dumb and puissant fairy. Then one fine morning amid his grand success, when Bordenave, who was mad after advertisement, kept firing the Parisian imagination with colossal posters, it became known that she must have started for Cairo the previous day. She had simply had a few words with her manager. Something had been said which did not please her; the whole thing was the caprice of a woman who is too rich to let herself be annoyed. Besides, she had indulged an old infatuation, for she had long meditated visiting the Turks.

Months passed--she began to be forgotten. When her name was mentioned among the ladies and gentlemen, the strangest stories were told, and everybody gave the most contradictory and at the same time prodigious information. She had made a conquest of the viceroy; she was reigning, in the recesses of a palace, over two hundred slaves whose heads she now and then cut off for the sake of a little amusement. No, not at all! She had ruined herself with a great big nigger! A filthy passion this, which had left her wallowing without a chemise to her back in the crapulous debauchery of Cairo. A fortnight later much astonishment was produced when someone swore to having met her in Russia. A legend began to be formed: she was the mistress of a prince, and her diamonds were mentioned. All the women were soon acquainted with them from the current descriptions, but nobody could cite the precise source of all this information. There were finger rings, earrings, bracelets, a REVIERE of phenomenal width, a queenly diadem surmounted by a central brilliant the size of one's thumb. In the retirement of those faraway countries she began to gleam forth as mysteriously as a gem-laden idol. People now mentioned her without laughing, for they were full of meditative respect for this fortune acquired among the barbarians.

One evening in July toward eight o'clock, Lucy, while getting out of her carriage in the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore, noticed Caroline Hequet, who had come out on foot to order something at a neighboring tradesman's. Lucy called her and at once burst out with:

"Have you dined? Are you disengaged? Oh, then come with me, my dear. Nana's back."

The other got in at once, and Lucy continued:"And you know, my dear, she may be dead while we're gossiping."

"Dead! What an idea!" cried Caroline in stupefaction. "And where is she? And what's it of?"

"At the Grand Hotel, of smallpox. Oh, it's a long story!"

Lucy had bidden her coachman drive fast, and while the horses trotted rapidly along the Rue Royale and the boulevards, she told what had happened to Nana in jerky, breathless sentences.

"You can't imagine it. Nana plumps down out of Russia. I don't know why--some dispute with her prince. She leaves her traps at the station; she lands at her aunt's--you remember the old thing. Well, and then she finds her baby dying of smallpox. The baby dies next day, and she has a row with the aunt about some money she ought to have sent, of which the other one has never seen a sou. Seems the child died of that: in fact, it was neglected and badly cared for. Very well; Nana slopes, goes to a hotel, then meets Mignon just as she was thinking of her traps. She has all sorts of queer feelings, shivers, wants to be sick, and Mignon takes her back to her place and promises to look after her affairs. Isn't it odd, eh? Doesn't it all happen pat? But this is the best part of the story: Rose finds out about Nana's illness and gets indignant at the idea of her being alone in furnished apartments. So she rushes off, crying, to look after her. You remember how they used to detest one another--like regular furies! Well then, my dear, Rose has had Nana transported to the Grand Hotel, so that she should, at any rate, die in a smart place, and now she's already passed three nights there and is free to die of it after. It's Labordette who told me all about it. Accordingly I wanted to see for myself--"

"Yes, yes," interrupted Caroline in great excitement "We'll go up to her."

They had arrived at their destination. On the boulevard the coachman had had to rein in his horses amid a block of carriages and people on foot. During the day the Corps Legislatif had voted for war, and now a crowd was streaming down all the streets, flowing along all the pavements, invading the middle of the roadway. Beyond the Madeleine the sun had set behind a blood-red cloud, which cast a reflection as of a great fire and set the lofty windows flaming. Twilight was falling, and the hour was oppressively melancholy, for now the avenues were darkening away into the distance but were not as yet dotted over by the bright sparks of the gas lamps. And among the marching crowds distant voices swelled and grew ever louder, and eyes gleamed from pale faces, while a great spreading wind of anguish and stupor set every head whirling.

"Here's Mignon," said Lucy. "He'll give us news."

Mignon was standing under the vast porch of the Grand Hotel. He looked nervous and was gazing at the crowd. After Lucy's first few questions he grew impatient and cried out:

"How should I know? These last two days I haven't been able to tear Rose away from up there. It's getting stupid, when all's said, for her to be risking her life like that! She'll be charming if she gets over it, with holes in her face! It'll suit us to a tee!"

The idea that Rose might lose her beauty was exasperating him. He was giving up Nana in the most downright fashion, and he could not in the least understand these stupid feminine devotions. But Fauchery was crossing the boulevard, and he, too, came up anxiously and asked for news. The two men egged each other on. They addressed one another familiarly in these days.

"Always the same business, my sonny," declared Mignon. "You ought to go upstairs; you would force her to follow you."

"Come now, you're kind, you are!" said the journalist. "Why don't you go upstairs yourself?"

Then as Lucy began asking for Nana's number, they besought her to make Rose come down; otherwise they would end by getting angry.

Nevertheless, Lucy and Caroline did not go up at once. They had caught sight of Fontan strolling about with his hands in his pockets and greatly amused by the quaint expressions of the mob. When he became aware that Nana was lying ill upstairs he affected sentiment and remarked:

"The poor girl! I'll go and shake her by the hand. What's the matter with her, eh?"

"Smallpox," replied Mignon.

The actor had already taken a step or two in the direction of the court, but he came back and simply murmured with a shiver:

"Oh, damn it!"

The smallpox was no joke. Fontan had been near having it when he was five years old, while Mignon gave them an account of one of his nieces who had died of it. As to Fauchery, he could speak of it from personal experience, for he still bore marks of it in the shape of three little lumps at the base of his nose, which he showed them. And when Mignon again egged him on to the ascent, on the pretext that you never had it twice, he violently combated this theory and with infinite abuse of the doctors instanced various cases. But Lucy and Caroline interrupted them, for the growing multitude filled them with astonishment.

"Just look! Just look what a lot of people!" The night was deepening, and in the distance the gas lamps were being lit one by one. Meanwhile interested spectators became visible at windows, while under the trees the human flood grew every minute more dense, till it ran in one enormous stream from the Madeleine to the Bastille. Carriages rolled slowly along. A roaring sound went up from this compact and as yet inarticulate mass. Each member of it had come out, impelled by the desire to form a crowd, and was now trampling along, steeping himself in the pervading fever. But a great movement caused the mob to flow asunder. Among the jostling, scattering groups a band of men in workmen's caps and white blouses had come in sight, uttering a rhythmical cry which suggested the beat of hammers upon an anvil.

"To Ber-lin! To Ber-lin! To Ber-lin!" And the crowd stared in gloomy distrust yet felt themselves already possessed and inspired by heroic imaginings, as though a military band were passing.

"Oh yes, go and get your throats cut!" muttered Mignon, overcome by an access of philosophy.

But Fontan thought it very fine, indeed, and spoke of enlisting. When the enemy was on the frontier all citizens ought to rise up in defense of the fatherland! And with that he assumed an attitude suggestive of Bonaparte at Austerlitz.

"Look here, are you coining up with us?" Lucy asked him.

"Oh dear, no! To catch something horrid?" he said.

On a bench in front of the Grand Hotel a man sat hiding his face in a handkerchief. On arriving Fauchery had indicated him to Mignon with a wink of the eye. Well, he was still there; yes, he was always there. And the journalist detained the two women also in order to point him out to them. When the man lifted his head they recognized him; an exclamation escaped them. It was the Count Muffat, and he was giving an upward glance at one of the windows.

"You know, he's bemight be the face. Lucy added:

"I never saw her since that time at the Gaite, when she was at the end of the grotto."

At this Rose awoke from her stupor and smiled as she said:

"Ah, she's changed; she's changed."

Then she once more lapsed into contemplation and neither moved nor spoke. Perhaps they would be able to look at her presently! And with that the three women joined the others in front of the fireplace. Simonne and Clarisse were discussing the dead woman's diamonds in low tones. Well, did they really exist--those diamonds? Nobody had seen them; it must be a bit of humbug. But Lea de Horn knew someone who knew all about them. Oh, they were monster stones! Besides, they weren't all; she had brought back lots of other precious property from Russia--embroidered stuffs, for instance, valuable knickknacks, a gold dinner service, nay, even en waiting there since this morning," Mignon informed them. "I saw him at six o'clock, and he hasn't moved since. Directly Labordette spoke about it he came there with his handkerchief up to his face. Every half-hour he comes dragging himself to where we're standing to ask if the person upstairs is doing better, and then he goes back and sits down. Hang it, that room isn't healthy! It's all very well being fond of people, but one doesn't want to kick the bucket."

The count sat with uplifted eyes and did not seem conscious of what was going on around him. Doubtless he was ignorant of the declaration of war, and he neither felt nor saw the crowd.

"Look, here he comes!" said Fauchery. "Now you'll see."

The count had, in fact, quitted his bench and was entering the lofty porch. But the porter, who was getting to know his face at last, did not give him time to put his question. He said sharply:

"She's dead, monsieur, this very minute."

Nana dead! It was a blow to them all. Without a word Muffat had gone back to the bench, his face still buried in his handkerchief. The others burst into exclamations, but they were cut short, for a fresh band passed by, howling, "A BERLIN! A BERLIN! A BERLIN!" Nana dead! Hang it, and such a fine girl too! Mignon sighed and looked relieved, for at last Rose would come down. A chill fell on the company. Fontan, meditating a tragic role, had assumed a look of woe and was drawing down the corners of his mouth and rolling his eyes askance, while Fauchery chewed his cigar nervously, for despite his cheap journalistic chaff he was really touched. Nevertheless, the two women continued to give vent to their feelings of surprise. The last time Lucy had seen her was at the Gaite; Blanche, too, had seen her in Melusine. Oh, how stunning it was, my dear, when she appeared in the depths of the crystal grot! The gentlemen remembered the occasion perfectly. Fontan had played the Prince Cocorico. And their memories once stirred up, they launched into interminable particulars. How ripping she looked with that rich coloring of hers in the crystal grot! Didn't she, now? She didn't say a word: the authors had even deprived her of a line or two, because it was superfluous. No, never a word! It was grander that way, and she drove her public wild by simply showing herself. You wouldn't find another body like hers! Such shoulders as she had, and such legs and such a figure! Strange that she should be dead! You know, above her tights she had nothing on but a golden girdle which hardly concealed her behind and in front. All round her the grotto, which was entirely of glass, shone like day. Cascades of diamonds were flowing down; strings of brilliant pearls glistened among the stalactites in the vault overhead, and amid the transparent atmosphere and flowing fountain water, which was crossed by a wide ray of electric light, she gleamed like the sun with that flamelike skin and hair of hers. f Paris would always picture her thus--would see her shining high up among crystal glass like the good God Himself. No, it was too stupid to let herself die under such conditions! She must be looking pretty by this time in that room up there!

"And what a lot of pleasures bloody well wasted!" said Mignon in melancholy tones, as became a man who did not like to see good and useful things lost.

He sounded Lucy and Caroline in order to find out if they were going up after all. Of course they were going up; their curiosity had increased. Just then Blanche arrived, out of breath and much exasperated at the way the crowds were blocking the pavement, and when she heard the news there was a fresh outburst of exclamations, and with a great rustling of skirts the ladies moved toward the staircase. Mignon followed them, crying out:

"Tell Rose that I'm waiting for her. She'll come at once, eh?"

"They do not exactly know whether the contagion is to be feared at the beginning or near the end," Fontan was explaining to Fauchery. "A medical I know was assuring me that the hours immediately following death are particularly dangerous. There are miasmatic exhalations then. Ah, but I do regret this sudden ending; I should have been so glad to shake hands with her for the last time.

"What good would it do you now?" said the journalist.

"Yes, what good?" the two others repeated.

The crowd was still on the increase. In the bright light thrown from shop-windows and beneath the wavering glare of the gas two living streams were distinguishable as they flowed along the pavement, innumerable hats apparently drifting on their surface. At that hour the popular fever was gaining ground rapidly, and people were flinging themselves in the wake of the bands of men in blouses. A constant forward movement seemed to sweep the roadway, and the cry kept recurring; obstinately, abruptly, there rang from thousands of throats:

"A BERLIN! A BERLIN! A BERLIN!"

The room on the fourth floor upstairs cost twelve francs a day, since Rose had wanted something decent and yet not luxurious, for sumptuousness is not necessary when one is suffering. Hung with Louis XIII cretonne, which was adorned with a pattern of large flowers, the room was furnished with the mahogany commonly found in hotels. On the floor there was a red carpet variegated with black foliage. Heavy silence reigned save for an occasional whispering sound caused by voices in the corridor.

"I assure you we're lost. The waiter told us to turn to the right. What a barrack of a house!"

"Wait a bit; we must have a look. Room number 401; room number 401!"

"Oh, it's this way: 405, 403. We ought to be there. Ah, at last, 401! This way! Hush now, hush!"

The voices were silent. Then there was a slight coughing and a moment or so of mental preparation. Then the door opened slowly, and Lucy entered, followed by Caroline and Blanche. But they stopped directly; there were already five women in the room; Gaga was lying back in the solitary armchair, which was a red velvet Voltaire. In front of the fireplace Simonne and Clarisse were now standing talking to Lea de Horn, who was seated, while by the bed, to the left of the door, Rose Mignon, perched on the edge of a chest, sat gazing fixedly at the body where it lay hidden in the shadow of the curtains. All the others had their hats and gloves on and looked as if they were paying a call: she alone sat there with bare hands and untidy hair and cheeks rendered pale by three nights of watching. She felt stupid in the face of this sudden death, and her eyes were swollen with weeping. A shaded lamp standing on the corner of the chest of drawers threw a bright flood of light over Gaga.

"What a sad misfortune, is it not?" whispered Lucy as she shook hands with Rose. "We wanted to bid her good-by."

And she turned round and tried to catch sight of her, but the lamp was too far off, and she did not dare bring it nearer. On the bed lay stretched a gray mass, but only the ruddy chignon was distinguishable and a pale blotch which urniture. "Yes, my dear, fifty-two boxes, enormous cases some of them, three truckloads of them!" They were all lying at the station. "Wasn't it hard lines, eh?--to die without even having time to unpack one's traps?" Then she had a lot of tin, besides--something like a million! Lucy asked who was going to inherit it all. Oh, distant relations--the aunt, without doubt! It would be a pretty surprise for that old body. She knew nothing about it yet, for the sick woman had obstinately refused to let them warn her, for she still owed her a grudge over her little boy's death. Thereupon they were all moved to pity about the little boy, and they remembered seeing him at the races. Oh, it was a wretchedly sickly baby; it looked so old and so sad. In fact, it was one of those poor brats who never asked to be born!

"He's happier under the ground," said Blanche.

"Bah, and so's she!" added Caroline. "Life isn't so funny!"

In that gloomy room melancholy ideas began to take possession of their imaginations. They felt frightened. It was silly to stand talking so long, but a longing to see her kept them rooted to the spot. It was very hot--the lamp glass threw a round, moonlike patch of light upon the ceiling, but the rest of the room was drowned in steamy darkness. Under the bed a deep plate full of phenol exhaled an insipid smell. And every few moments tiny gusts of wind swelled the window curtains. The window opened on the boulevard, whence rose a dull roaring sound.

"Did she suffer much?" asked Lucy, who was absorbed in contemplation of the clock, the design of which represented the three Graces as nude young women, smiling like opera dancers.

Gaga seemed to wake up.

"My word, yes! I was present when she died. I promise you it was not at all pleasant to see. Why, she was taken with a shuddering fit--"

But she was unable to proceed with her explanation, for a cry arose outside:

"A BERLIN! A BERLIN! A BERLIN!"

And Lucy, who felt suffocated, flung wide the window and leaned upon the sill. It was pleasant there; the air came fresh from the starry sky. Opposite her the windows were all aglow with light, and the gas sent dancing reflections over the gilt lettering of the shop signs.

Beneath these, again, a most amusing scene presented itself. The streams of people were discernible rolling torrentwise along the sidewalks and in the roadway, where there was a confused procession of carriages. Everywhere there were vast moving shadows in which lanterns and lampposts gleamed like sparks. But the band which now came roaring by carried torches, and a red glow streamed down from the direction of the Madeleine, crossed the mob like a trail of fire and spread out over the heads in the distance like a vivid reflection of a burning house. Lucy called Blanche and Caroline, forgetting where she was and shouting:

"Do come! You get a capital view from this window!"

They all three leaned out, greatly interested. The trees got in their way, and occasionally the torches disappeared under the foliage. They tried to catch a glimpse of the men of their own party below, but a protruding balcony hid the door, and they could only make out Count Muffat, who looked like a dark parcel thrown down on the bench where he sat. He was still burying his face in his handkerchief. A carriage had stopped in front, and yet another woman hurried up, in whom Lucy recognized Maria Blond. She was not alone; a stout man got down after her.

"It's that thief of a Steiner," said Caroline. "How is it they haven't sent him back to Cologne yet? I want to see how he looks when he comes in."

They turned round, but when after the lapse of ten minutes Maria Blond appeared, she was alone. She had twice mistaken the staircase. And when Lucy, in some astonishment, questioned her:

"What, he?" she said. "My dear, don't you go fancying that he'll come upstairs! It's a great wonder he's escorted me as far as the door. There are nearly a dozen of them smoking cigars."

As a matter of fact, all the gentlemen were meeting downstairs. They had come strolling thither in order to have a look at the boulevards, and they hailed one another and commented loudly on that poor girl's death. Then they began discussing politics and strategy. Bordenave, Daguenet, Labordette, Prulliere and others, besides, had swollen the group, and now they were all listening to Fontan, who was explaining his plan for taking Berlin within a week.

Meanwhile Maria Blond was touched as she stood by the bedside and murmured, as the others had done before her:

"Poor pet! The last time I saw her was in the grotto at the Gaite."

"Ah, she's changed; she's changed!" Rose Mignon repeated with a smile of gloomiest dejection.

Two more women arrived. These were Tatan Nene and Louise Violaine. They had been wandering about the Grand Hotel for twenty minutes past, bandied from waiter to waiter, and had ascended and descended more than thirty flights of stairs amid a perfect stampede of travelers who were hurrying to leave Paris amid the panic caused by the war and the excitement on the boulevards. Accordingly they just dropped down on chairs when they came in, for they were too tired to think about the dead. At that moment a loud noise came from the room next door, where people were pushing trunks about and striking against furniture to an accompaniment of strident, outlandish syllables. It was a young Austrian couple, and Gaga told how during her agony the neighbors had played a game of catch as catch can and how, as only an unused door divided the two rooms, they had heard them laughing and kissing when one or the other was caught.

"Come, it's time we were off," said Clarisse. "We shan't bring her to life again. Are you coming, Simonne?"

They all looked at the bed out of the corners of their eyes, but they did not budge an inch. Nevertheless, they began getting ready and gave their skirts various little pats. Lucy was again leaning out of window. She was alone now, and a sorrowful feeling began little by little to overpower her, as though an intense wave of melancholy had mounted up from the howling mob. Torches still kept passing, shaking out clouds of sparks, and far away in the distance the various bands stretched into the shadows, surging unquietly to and fro like flocks being driven to the slaughterhouse at night. A dizzy feeling emanated from these confused masses as the human flood rolled them along--a dizzy feeling, a sense of terror and all the pity of the massacres to come. The people were going wild; their voices broke; they were drunk with a fever of excitement which sent them rushing toward the unknown "out there" beyond the dark wall of the horizon.

"A BERLIN! A BERLIN! A BERLIN!"

Lucy turned round. She leaned her back against the window, and her face was very pale.

"Good God! What's to become of us?"

The ladies shook their heads. They were serious and very anxious about the turn events were taking.

"For my part," said Caroline Hequet in her decisive way, "I start for London the day after tomorrow. Mamma's already over there getting a house ready for me. I'm certainly not going to let myself be massacred in Paris."

Her mother, as became a prudent woman, had invested all her daughters' money in foreign lands. One never knows how a war may end! But Maria Blond grew vexed at this. She was a patriot and spoke of following the army.

"There's a coward for you! Yes, if they wanted me I should put on man's clothes just to have a good shot at those pigs of Prussians! And if we all die after? What of that? Our wretched skins aren't so valuable!"

Blanche de Sivry was exasperated.

"Please don't speak ill of the Prussians! They are just like other men, and they're not always running after the women, like your Frenchmen. They've just expelled the little Prussian who was with me. He was an awfully rich fellow and so gentle: he couldn't have hurt a soul. It's disgraceful; I'm ruined by it. And, you know, you mustn't say a word or I go and find him out in Germany!"

After that, while the two were at loggerheads, Gaga began murmuring in dolorous tones:

"It's all over with me; my luck's always bad. It's only a week ago that I finished paying for my little house at Juvisy. Ah, God knows what trouble it cost me! I had to go to Lili for help! And now here's the war declared, and the Prussians'll come and they'll burn everything. How am I to begin again at my time of life, I should like to know?"

"Bah!" said Clarisse. "I don't care a damn about it. I shall always find what I want."

"Certainly you will," added Simonne. "It'll be a joke. Perhaps, after all, it'll be good biz."

And her smile hinted what she thought. Tatan Nene and Louise Violaine were of her opinion. The former told them that she had enjoyed the most roaring jolly good times with soldiers. Oh, they were good fellows and would have done any mortal thing for the girls. But as the ladies had raised their voices unduly Rose Mignon, still sitting on the chest by the bed, silenced them with a softly whispered "Hush!" They stood quite still at this and glanced obliquely toward the dead woman, as though this request for silence had emanated from the very shadows of the curtains. In the heavy, peaceful stillness which ensued, a void, deathly stillness which made them conscious of the stiff dead body lying stretched close by them, the cries of the mob burst forth:

"A BERLIN! A BERLIN! A BERLIN!"

But soon they forgot. Lea de Horn, who had a political salon where former ministers of Louis Philippe were wont to indulge in delicate epigrams, shrugged her shoulders and continued the conversation in a low tone:

"What a mistake this war is! What a bloodthirsty piece of stupidity!"

At this Lucy forthwith took up the cudgels for the empire. She had been the mistress of a prince of the imperial house, and its defense became a point of family honor with her.

"Do leave them alone, my dear. We couldn't let ourselves be further insulted! Why, this war concerns the honor of France. Oh, you know I don't say that because of the prince. He WAS just mean! Just imagine, at night when he was going to bed he hid his gold in his boots, and when we played at bezique he used beans, because one day I pounced down on the stakes for fun. But that doesn't prevent my being fair. The emperor was right."

Lea shook her head with an air of superiority, as became a woman who was repeating the opinions of important personages. Then raising her voice:

"This is the end of all things. They're out of their minds at the Tuileries. France ought to have driven them out yesterday. Don't you see?"

They all violently interrupted her. What was up with her? Was she mad about the emperor? Were people not happy? Was business doing badly? Paris would never enjoy itself so thoroughly again.

Gaga was beside herself; she woke up and was very indignant.

"Be quiet! It's idiotic! You don't know what you're saying. I--I've seen Louis Philippe's reign: it was full of beggars and misers, my dear. And then came '48! Oh, it was a pretty disgusting business was their republic! After February I was simply dying of starvation--yes, I, Gaga. Oh, if only you'd been through it all you would go down on your knees before the emperor, for he's been a father to us; yes, a father to us."

She had to be soothed but continued with pious fervor:

"O my God, do Thy best to give the emperor the victory. Preserve the empire to us!"

They all repeated this aspiration, and Blanche confessed that she burned candles for the emperor. Caroline had been smitten by him and for two whole months had walked where he was likely to pass but had failed to attract his attention. And with that the others burst forth into furious denunciations of the Republicans and talked of exterminating them on the frontiers so that Napoleon III, after having beaten the enemy, might reign peacefully amid universal enjoyment.

"That dirty Bismarck--there's another cad for you!" Maria Blond remarked.

"To think that I should have known him!" cried Simonne. "If only I could have foreseen, I'm the one that would have put some poison in his glass."

But Blanche, on whose heart the expulsion of her Prussian still weighed, ventured to defend Bismarck. Perhaps he wasn't such a bad sort. To every man his trade!

"You know," she added, "he adores women."

"What the hell has that got to do with us?" said Clarisse. "We don't want to cuddle him, eh?"

"There's always too many men of that sort!" declared Louise Violaine gravely. "It's better to do without 'em than to mix oneself up with such monsters!"

And the discussion continued, and they stripped Bismarck, and, in her Bonapartist zeal, each of them gave him a sounding kick, while Tatan Nene kept saying:

"Bismarck! Why, they've simply driven me crazy with the chap! Oh, I hate him! I didn't know that there Bismarck! One can't know everybody."

"Never mind," said Lea de Horn by way of conclusion, "that Bismarck will give us a jolly good threshing."

But she could not continue. The ladies were all down on her at once. Eh, what? A threshing? It was Bismarck they were going to escort home with blows from the butt ends of their muskets. What was this bad Frenchwoman going to say next?

"Hush," whispered Rose, for so much noise hurt her.

The cold influence of the corpse once more overcame them, and they all paused together. They were embarrassed; the dead woman was before them again; a dull thread of coming ill possessed them. On the boulevard the cry was passing, hoarse and wild:

"A BERLIN! A BERLIN! A BERLIN!"

Presently, when they were making up their minds to go, a voice was heard calling from the passage:

"Rose! Rose!"

Gaga opened the door in astonishment and disappeared for a moment. When she returned:

"My dear," she said, "it's Fauchery. He's out there at the end of the corridor. He won't come any further, and he's beside himself because you still stay near that body."

Mignon had at last succeeded in urging the journalist upstairs. Lucy, who was still at the window, leaned out and caught sight of the gentlemen out on the pavement. They were looking up, making energetic signals to her. Mignon was shaking his fists in exasperation, and Steiner, Fontan, Bordenave and the rest were stretching out their arms with looks of anxious reproach, while Daguenet simply stood smoking a cigar with his hands behind his back, so as not to compromise himself.

"It's true, dear," said Lucy, leaving the window open; "I promised to make you come down. They're all calling us now."

Rose slowly and painfully left the chest.

"I'm coming down; I'm coming down," she whispered. "It's very certain she no longer needs me. They're going to send in a Sister of Mercy."

And she turned round, searching for her hat and shawl. Mechanically she filled a basin of water on the toilet table and while washing her hands and face continued:

"I don't know! It's been a great blow to me. We used scarcely to be nice to one another. Ah well! You see I'm quite silly over it now. Oh! I've got all sorts of strange ideas--I want to die myself--I feel the end of the world's coming. Yes, I need air."

The corpse was beginning to poison the atmosphere of the room. And after long heedlessness there ensued a panic.

"Let's be off; let's be off, my little pets!" Gaga kept saying. "It isn't wholesome here."

They went briskly out, casting a last glance at the bed as they passed it. But while Lucy, Blanche and Caroline still remained behind, Rose gave a final look round, for she wanted to leave the room in order. She drew a curtain across the window, and then it occurred to her that the lamp was not the proper thing and that a taper should take its place. So she lit one of the copper candelabra on the chimney piece and placed it on the night table beside the corpse. A brilliant light suddenly illumined the dead woman's face. The women were horror-struck. They shuddered and escaped.

"Ah, she's changed; she's changed!" murmured Rose Mignon, who was the last to remain.

She went away; she shut the door. Nana was left alone with upturned face in the light cast by the candle. She was fruit of the charnel house, a heap of matter and blood, a shovelful of corrupted flesh thrown down on the pillow. The pustules had invaded the whole of the face, so that each touched its neighbor. Fading and sunken, they had assumed the grayish hue of mud; and on that formless pulp, where the features had ceased to be traceable, they already resembled some decaying damp from the grave. One eye, the left eye, had completely foundered among bubbling purulence, and the other, which remained half open, looked like a deep, black, ruinous hole. The nose was still suppurating. Quite a reddish crush was peeling from one of the cheeks and invading the mouth, which it distorted into a horrible grin. And over this loathsome and grotesque mask of death the hair, the beautiful hair, still blazed like sunlight and flowed downward in rippling gold. Venus was rotting. It seemed as though the poison she had assimilated in the gutters and on the carrion tolerated by the roadside, the leaven with which she had poisoned a whole people, had but now remounted to her face and turned it to corruption.

The room was empty. A great despairing breath came up from the boulevard and swelled the curtain.

"A BERLIN! A BERLIN! A BERLIN!"

娜娜突然失踪了。她又一次溜走，离家出走，飞往异国他乡了。临行前，她心血来潮，搞了一次大拍卖，把公馆、家具、首饰，甚至化妆品和衣物卖得精光。据说，五项拍卖共得六十多万法郎。巴黎人最后一次见到她，是在快乐剧院上演的一出名叫《仙女梅侣茜娜》的幻梦剧里，这出戏是一文不名的博尔德纳夫大胆推出的。这次她又与普律利埃尔和丰唐同台演出，她扮演的虽是一个普通哑角，一个健壮、不说话的仙女，却是戏中最精彩的部分，她在剧中只做了三个造型姿势。这次演出获得了巨大成功，正当一向对宣传感兴趣的博尔德纳夫张贴许多巨幅海报，向巴黎大肆宣传这出戏的时候，一天早上，有人获悉她大概于前一天离开了巴黎，到开罗去了。出走原因是因为她听了经理博尔德纳夫一句逆耳的话，同他发生了口角，这个任性、太富有的女人，忍受不了这口气，一气之下便走了。而且，这次她如愿以偿，因为她早就梦想到土耳其去走一趟。

几个月过去了，大家把娜娜渐渐淡忘了。当这些先生们和太太们又提起她时，种种离奇的传说不胫而走，众说纷纭，这些消息互相矛盾而又不可思议。有人说总督迷恋上了她，她住在深宫里，奴役着两百个奴隶，她还时常砍奴隶的头，以此取乐。也有人说，情况根本不是这样，她同一个身材高大的黑人鬼混，肮脏的热恋把她弄得钱财殆尽，连穿的衣服也没有，在开罗过着放荡的生活。过了两个星期，又传来了有关她惊人的消息，有人发誓说在俄国见到过她。于是这条消息逐渐变成了传说，说她成了一个王子的情妇，她拥有很多珠宝钻石，尽管谁也不知道消息的确切来源。时隔不久，女人们从不胫而走的绘声绘色的描写中，竟对那些珠宝钻石了解得一清二楚。她们说她有戒指，有耳环，有手镯，有一条两指宽的项链，还有一顶王后的冠冕，冠冕中央镶着一颗璀璨的钻石，足有大拇指那么宽。她虽然远走到这些异国他乡，依然像一尊饰满珠宝首饰的偶像，放射着神秘的光芒。现在人们提到她的名字时，都一本正经，带着几分敬意，对她在蛮族人那里发了迹感到迷惑不解。

七月的一天晚上，将近八点钟时，吕西乘坐的马车行驶在福布尔·圣奥诺雷街上，她从车里瞥见卡罗利娜·埃凯从家里走出来，到邻近一家店里买东西，吕西叫住她，连忙说道：“你吃过晚饭了吗？现在有空吗？……那么，亲爱的，跟我一道走吧……娜娜回来啦。”

卡罗利娜随即上了马车，吕西继续说道：

“你知道，亲爱的，我们现在在这里谈话时，也许她已经死了。”

“她死了！你胡说什么！”卡罗利娜听了惊愕不已，大声嚷道，“她在哪里？怎么死的？”

“她在格朗旅馆……是出天花……啊！说来真是一言难尽啊。”

吕西叫车夫策马快奔。于是，马急速跑起来，马车驶过王家大道和几条林荫大道，一路上，她用断断续续的语句，一口气讲述了娜娜的情况。

“你真不会想到……娜娜从俄国回来了，我也不知道为什么，大概与她的王子吵了架……她把行里存放在火车站，跑到她姑妈家里，你还记得吗，就是那个老太婆……她刚到姑妈家里，就一下子扑到患天花的孩子身上。第二天，孩子就死了，她同姑妈大吵了一顿，她大概给姑妈寄过钱，但姑妈不曾收到一个子儿……娜娜认为孩子是因为没有钱治才死的；总之，这孩子被她丢下了，又无人照料……好啦！她跑到一家旅馆，刚想去取行李时，遇见了米尼翁……她突然感觉浑身不舒服，打起寒噤，想呕吐，米尼翁领她回到房间，并答应去替她取行李……嗯？这事说来真怪！难道他们是事先约定好的！可是还有更妙的事呢：罗丝得知娜娜生了病，孤身一人呆在带出租家具的房间后，感到很难过，赶紧跑去照料她，不为她伤心流泪呢……曾记得她们过去互相敌视，是一对冤家对头！可是，这一次罗丝却找人把她抬到格朗旅馆里，心想即使她死了，也要死在一个像样的地方，娜娜在那里已经住了三天了，现在正在等死……这些都是拉博德特告诉我的，我想去看看她……”

“你说得对，你说得对，”卡罗利娜听了心情很不平静，打断她的话，说道，“我们一起上楼去看看她吧。”

她们到达了目的地。林荫大道被车辆和行人堵得水泄不通，车夫只好勒住马。白天，立法议会表决通过了向普鲁士宣战的决议，现在民众从四面八方拥来，他们走在人行道上，渐渐又蔓及车行道。在圣玛德莱娜教堂那边，夕阳已隐没在一片血红的云彩后面，余晖把高高的窗户映得火红。夜幕降临了，此时此刻多么令人沉闷，又多么令人惆怅，暮色越发变浓了，条条街道笼罩在一片黑暗之中，煤气路灯还没有发出熠熠光芒。在这些向前进发的人群中，说话声由远及近，人们个个面色苍白，目光炯炯，忧虑和惊愕犹如一阵狂风袭来，人人惊慌失措。

“米尼翁在这里，”吕西说道，“他会告诉我们娜娜的病情的。”

米尼翁正站在格朗旅馆的宽阔门廊下，神色紧张地注视着街上的人群。吕西刚开口问他，他就恼火了，大声说道：

“我怎么会知道呢！罗丝呆在楼上已经两天了，我怎么叫她，她也不肯下来……她简直是把自己的生命孤注一掷，总之，这样做是愚蠢的！如果她传染上天花，弄成一张麻脸，我们就遭殃了！”

他一想到罗丝会失去她的花容月貌，心里就怄气。他干脆撂下娜娜不管，而女人们却愚蠢地尽心竭力去照顾别人，他真是百思不得其解。米尼翁刚到，福什利也穿过马路，向他这里走来，他对娜娜也放心不下，来看看她的病情怎样。他俩你推我上楼，我推你上楼，谁也不肯自己上去，现在他们说起话来，互相都用亲昵的称呼。

“什么都是老样子，老弟，”米尼翁说，“你应该上楼把罗丝硬拉下来。”

“哟！你真善良！该你上去！”新闻记者说道，“你自己为什么不上去呢？”

这时，吕西问他们娜娜住在哪个房间，他们便央求她，请她叫罗丝下来，说如果罗丝不下来，他们就要发火了。然而，吕西和卡罗利娜并未立刻上楼。她们瞥见丰唐两只手插在口袋里，正在马路上闲逛，饶有兴趣地注视着街上行人的一张张古怪面孔。他知道娜娜病倒在楼上后，装出一副同情的神态，说道：

“可怜的姑娘！……我要上楼去同她握握手……她得了什么病？”

“她得的是天花。”米尼翁回答道。

丰唐原本已向院子迈了一步，但随即又退了回来。他打了一个哆嗦，嘴里咕噜道：

“哎哟！我的天哪！”

天花可非同小可。丰唐五岁时就差点儿染上天花。米尼翁说，他有一个侄子就是得了天花死的。说到天花，福什利更有发言权，他自己就得过天花，如今鼻根处还留下三个麻点呢，他还把麻点指给大家看。米尼翁这时又推他上楼，说一个人不会得两次天花的。福什利却严厉驳斥他的谬论，他列举了许多人第二次生天花的例子，说医生们啥也不懂。这会儿吕西见街上行人越来越多，便截住他们的话，说道：

“看呀！看呀！人越来越多了。”

暮色越发浓了，远处的煤气路灯接二连三亮起来。这时呆在窗口看热闹的人隐约可见，树下的人流每时每刻都在增加，从圣玛德莱娜教堂一直到巴士底狱，汇合成一条巨大的人流。马车都徐徐行驶着。在这密密麻麻的人群中，不时发出嗡嗡的声音，还有人发出吼叫声，大家都是为了加入群众行列，步行来到这里的，个个情绪激昂。这时，人群中突然一阵骚动，人群连忙往后退了退。在推推搡搡中，人群向两边闪出一条路来，一队头戴鸭舌帽、身穿白工装的人出现了，他们有节奏地呼喊着口号，那喊声酷似铁锤落在铁砧上的声音：

“进军柏林！进军柏林！进军柏林！”

群众带着沮丧和不信任的神情瞅着他们，不过他们已经受到这种激昂情绪的感染和激励，就像看见一支军乐队经过似的。

“好吧，好吧，让你们去战场上丢脑袋吧！”米尼翁很激动，用哲学家的达观口吻，嘟哝了一句。

丰唐却认为这样行动很好。他说自己也要参军上前线。敌人已经打到边境线上了，全体公民都应该起来保卫祖国。他说话的姿势颇像拿破仑在奥斯特利茨①发表演说时的姿势。

①一八○五年十二月二日，拿破仑在奥斯特利茨（今捷克斯洛伐克的斯拉夫科夫）与俄奥联军交战，联军惨败，死伤一点五万人，被俘一点一万人，而拿破仑仅损失九千人。

“喂！你同我们一起上楼吗？”

“哦！我才不上去呢，”丰唐回答道，“上去会染上天花的！”

在格朗旅馆的门前，有一个男子坐在一条长凳上，用手绢掩住面孔。福什利一到这里，就向米尼翁眨眨眼睛，示意要他留心那个人。那个人一直坐在那儿，是的，他未挪动一步。新闻记者叫住两个女人，指着那个人叫他们看。当那人抬起头来时，她们辨认出他来了，两人不禁惊叫了一声。原来他是缪法伯爵，他仰着头，凝视着楼上的一扇窗户。

“你们知道吧，他从清早就呆在这里了，”米尼翁说道，“六点钟时我就看见他了，他没有走动一步……拉博德特刚告诉他这个消息，他就来了，他用手绢掩住面孔……每隔半个钟头，就迈着沉重的步伐走过来，询问楼上那个人的病是否好了一些，然后又回到原来的地方坐下来……当然罗！那个房间里不卫生，一个人不管怎样爱别人，也不至于想寻死吧。”

伯爵抬头望着楼上，似乎还未注意到周围发生的事。大概他还不知道宣战这件事，仿佛还没有发现自己周围有许多人，也没有听见人群中的喧嚣声。

“瞧！”福什利说道，“他站起来了，你们看他往哪儿走。”

伯爵果然离开了长凳走到高大的门脚下。门房终于认出他来，还没等到他开口，门房就直截了当地告诉他：

“先生，她已经死了，是刚刚死的。”

娜娜死啦！这对所有的人都是一个打击。缪法听了没吭一声，又回到原来的地方，坐到那条长凳上，用手绢掩着面孔。其他人又高声呼喊起来，但是喊声听上去断断续续，又有一群人经过那里，他们声嘶力竭地喊道：

“进军柏林！进军柏林！进军柏林！”

娜娜死啦！哎呀，她是多么漂亮的姑娘！米尼翁舒了一口气，顿时觉得轻松了；罗丝终于要下楼了。大家沉默良久。丰唐是一个天生的悲剧角色，他装出一副悲伤的样子，耷拉着嘴角，眼珠向上翻到眼皮边；而小记者福什利，虽然平时喜欢开玩笑，现在也真的伤心起来，他神经质地抽着雪茄。不过，两个女人还在继续叫喊着。吕西最后一次见到娜娜，是在快乐剧院。布朗瑟也是在她演出《仙女梅侣茜娜》时见到她的。啊！亲爱的，她出现在一个水晶岩洞口时，演得真棒！这几位先生都还记忆犹新。丰唐扮演的是雄鸡公子。几位先生的记忆被唤醒后，便没完没了地谈起剧中的细枝末节。嗯！她在水晶宫里，她那丰腴的裸体令人着迷！她一句话也没说，本来她有一段独白，后来被剧作者删掉了，因为说话反而显得不自然；对，她什么也没说，这样才与众不同，她一出场，便把观众弄得神魂颠倒。她那漂亮身段，观众从来没见过，她的肩膀，她的腿，她的腰身都令观众如痴如醉！可是她竟然死啦，岂非怪事！大家知道，她在台上时只穿一件紧身衣，下身系一条金色腰带，前后几乎啥也没有掩盖住。她周围的岩洞全是水晶玻璃的，闪烁着光亮；钻石瀑布从洞顶飞流而下，一条条白色珍珠项链在拱顶上乳石中间发出璀璨的光芒；她的周围全是一片透明，一道宽阔的电光照亮着泉水瀑布，娜娜宛如一轮红日，令人悦目，她的皮肤白皙，头发火红。巴黎人将永远看见她像这样子，光艳夺目地出现在水晶玻璃中间，她像天上慈善的上帝，身居这样的地位，却让自己死了，着实可惜！现在她躺在楼上，样子一定挺好看的！

“多少欢乐失去了！”米尼翁像一个不愿看到有用、美好的东西失去的人，用沮丧的语调说道。

他用试探的口气问吕西和卡罗利娜是否想马上上楼。她们当然想上去，她们的好奇心越发强烈了。恰巧这时布朗瑟气喘吁吁地跑来了，人群堵塞了人行道，她很恼火。她知道娜娜死去的消息后，便惊叫起来，三个女人一起向楼梯走去，她们的裙子窸窣作响。米尼翁紧随其后，大声嚷道：

“请你们告诉罗丝我在等她……叫她立刻下来，听见了吗？”

“天花究竟是开始传染得厉害，还是后来传染得厉害，现在还不清楚，”丰唐向福什利说，“我有一个朋友是实习医生，他甚至用十分肯定的语气对我说，人死后天花传染性更大……因为尸体散发出疫气……哎！她突然落到这样的结局，我真遗憾，我要能与她最后一次握握手，该是多么高兴啊！”

“现在你说这话有什么用？”新闻记者说道。

“是啊，说这话有什么用？”其他两个人附和道。

街上的人越来越多。各个店铺里的灯都亮了，在煤气路灯晃晃悠悠的灯光下，可以清楚地看见人行道上的两股人流，无数帽子在移动。在这样的时刻，群情越来越激昂了，许多人跑到穿工装的队伍后面，人群不断涌向车行道上，这时人群中响起铿锵有力的口号声，它是发自每一个人的胸膛：

“进军柏林！进军柏林！进军柏林！”

五楼上的那间房子每天租金是十二法郎，罗丝当时提出租一间普通的房子就行了，不需要很豪华，因为人在病痛中是不需要住豪华房间的。房间的墙上挂着路易十三式的大花装饰布，家具与其它旅馆里一样，全是桃花心木的，红色地毯上点缀着一簇黑色树叶图案。房间里一片沉静，不时听见窃窃私语声，打破这样的沉静。这时，走廊里传来了说话声。

“我敢向你保证，我们走错路了。茶房说向右拐弯……这儿像是营房。”

“等一等，看看房号再说……四○一号房间，四○一号房间。”

“喂！从这边走……四○五，四○三……我们就要找到了……啊！终于找到了，四○一！……到了，嘘！嘘！”说话声停止了。她们三个人先咳嗽几声，定了定神。随后，悄悄推开门，吕西首先进门，卡罗利娜和布朗瑟紧随其后。她们刚刚跨进门间，便霍然止步，房间里已经有了五个妇女。加加深深地躺在房间里唯一的一张扶手椅上，那是一张红色天鹅绒的伏尔泰椅①。西蒙娜和克拉利瑟站在壁炉前，与坐在椅子上的莱娅·德·霍恩聊天。罗丝·米尼翁呆在门的左边，坐在一只装劈柴的箱子上，凝视着隐没在窗帘荫影中的尸体。几个妇女都戴着手套和帽子，像到别人家作客一样；只有罗丝没有戴手套和帽子，她已经守护了三天，她疲惫不堪，面色苍白，面对娜娜的骤然逝世，她惊呆了，心里充满哀伤。在五斗柜的一个角上，有一盏带罩的灯亮着，强烈的光线照在加加身上。

①伏尔泰椅，椅身较大，椅背较高。

“唉！她是多么不幸啊！”吕西握着罗丝的手，喃喃说道，“我们还想向她道别呢。”

吕西转过头来，想瞧娜娜一眼，可是灯离娜娜很远，她又不敢把灯挪近。只见床上躺着一大块灰色的东西，大家只看清那红色的发髻，还有一团灰白色的东西，那大概是脸。吕西又说道：

“我还是在快乐剧院见过她，以后再也不曾见到她，那次她坐在水晶岩洞里……”

这时，罗丝从呆滞状态中清醒过来，嫣然一笑，连声说道：

“唉！她变了样了，她变了样了……”

说完，她又陷入沉思之中，她一动不动，默不作声。过一会儿，大概可以看看娜娜了吧；三个女人走到壁炉边，同其他几个女人呆在一起。西蒙娜同克拉利瑟悄声议论起死者的钻石首饰。她到底有没有钻石，谁也不曾见过，也许有人扯谎。可是莱娅·德·霍恩认识的一个男子说见过那些钻石首饰，哦！一颗颗硕大无朋的钻石！何况还不止这些，她还从俄国带回来不少别的东西呢，如绣花衣料，贵重小玩艺，一套金餐具，甚至还有家具。确实，亲爱的，总共有五十二件行李，足足装了三车厢。这些东西都还留在火车站呢。唉！她真倒霉，还没有来得及打开行李就死了，据说，她还带回很多钱，大概足有一百万。吕西问谁来继承遗产，无疑由远房亲戚继承喽，肯定是她的姑妈，这个老太婆这下子倒交了好运。她还一点不知道呢，病人执意不让人告诉她，孩子死了，娜娜对她怀恨在心。于是大家都可怜起那个孩子，记得赛马时大家看见过他，那时他浑身是病，像被病魔缠身，老是愁眉不展，总之，他像一个不愿来到这个世上的孩子。

“他在阴曹地府会更幸福。”布朗瑟说道。

“啊！娜娜也是这样，”卡罗利娜补充道，“活着对她来说，并没有多大意思。”

房间里一派肃穆气氛，使她们不禁产生悲观的想法。于是，她们害怕起来，心想在这里聊了这么久，真有点傻，可是她们还想看看死者，所以谁也没有动弹一下。房间里很热，既潮湿又阴暗，灯光透过玻璃灯罩照在天花板上，宛若一轮明月。床底下有一只深底盘子，里面盛满了石炭酸，散发出一股淡淡的气味。临街窗户上的窗帘不时被风吹得鼓起来，街上传来低沉的轰轰隆隆的声音。

“她死时很痛苦吗？”吕西问道，她站在挂钟前，出神地看着钟上的图案，那是裸体美惠三女神，嘴上挂着舞女般的微笑。

加加仿佛被她的问话猛然惊醒：

“啊！当然罗！……她死的时候，我在这里。我告诉你，那时她的样子一点不好看……唉！她全身还抽搐呢……”

她无法继续说下去，楼下又响起了口号声：

“进军柏林！进军柏林！进军柏林！”

吕西感到一阵气闷，便把窗子全部打开，接着把胳膊撑在窗台上。这时天空繁星点点，外面微风阵阵，窗口很凉爽。对面，家家户户的窗户里灯光灿烂，街上的煤气灯光照在商店的金字招牌上，熠熠反光。俯视街道上，一派壮观景色，激流般的人群在横七竖八的马车中穿过，在人行道上和车行道上滚滚向前，手提灯和煤气路灯照在一大片人流黑影上。一群人手擎火把，高呼口号走过来；一道微弱的红光从圣玛德莱娜教堂那边照射过来，犹如一道火光穿过乱糟糟的人群，映在远处的人群头上，仿佛发生了一场火灾。吕西叫布朗瑟和卡罗利娜过来，她看得出神了，大声嚷道：

“快来看呀！……站在这个窗口看得很清楚。”

她们三个人都俯下身子，兴致勃勃地往下看，街上的树木不时挡住她们的视线，火炬时隐时现。她们一心想看清楼下的几位先生，由于阳台遮住了旅馆的大门，她们总是只看见缪法伯爵，他用手绢捂住面孔，看上去像扔在长凳上的一团黑黝黝的东西。一辆马车在旅馆门口停一来，吕西认出走下马车的是玛丽亚·布隆，这下又来了一个女人。她不是一个人来的，身后还跟着一个胖乎乎的男人。

“原来是盗贼斯泰内，”卡罗利娜说，“怎么还不把他遣送到科隆①去呢！……等他进来时，我倒要看看他是副什么样子。”

①科隆是普鲁士城市，斯泰内是科隆人，所以普法战争爆发了，就应该把他遣送到科隆去。

她们转过身子。但是过了十分钟，玛丽亚·布隆才出现在她们面前，原来她两次走错了楼梯，不过，只有她一个人。吕西觉得蹊跷，便问她为什么一个人上来，她回答道：

“他呀！嘿！亲爱的，你以为他会上来吗！……他陪我到门口，就算不错了……他们大约有十二个人，都在门口抽雪茄呢。”

确实，娜娜生前熟悉的男人都聚集在这里。他们都是出来逛逛的，想看看街上的热闹，他们见面后，互相打招呼。大家对这个可怜姑娘的逝世哀叹不已；随后，他们聊起政治和战略问题。博尔德纳夫、拉博德特、普律利埃尔和其他人的到来，扩大了他们的阵容。大家都在听丰唐讲解在五天内如何攻克柏林的作战计划。

这时玛丽亚·布隆在死者床前感到心情很沉痛，像其他女人那样嘟哝道：

“可怜的宝贝！……我最后一次见到她，是在快乐剧院里，她在那水晶洞里……”

“啊！她变了样了，她变了样了。”罗丝反复说道，脸上露出疲惫、沮丧的微笑。

接着又来了两个女人，她们是塔唐·内内和路易丝·维奥莱纳。她们在格朗旅馆里跑遍了，找了二十分钟，打听一个茶房又一个茶房，上上下下跑了三十多层，遇到的人都是惊恐万状、迫不及待要离开巴黎的旅客，他们被战争和街上群众的激昂情绪吓得乱作一团。她俩一进门，便一下子倒在椅子上，她们太疲劳了，不能马上看死者。就在这时候，隔壁房间里传来一阵嘈杂声，有人在推箱子，敲家具，还听见说话的声音，说的是外话，每个音节都拉得长长的。他们是一对年轻的奥地利夫妇。加加说，娜娜快要断气时，他们正在追逐嬉戏，因为两个房间只隔一道封死的门，当一个人被另一个抓住时，还听见一阵笑声和接吻声。

“喂！我们该走了，”克拉利瑟说道，”我们老呆在这儿，也不能使她生还……跟我一道走吧，西蒙娜？”

她们每人都往床上瞟着，谁也没有离开那儿。不过，她们都轻轻拍拍裙子，准备动身了。吕西一个人又趴在窗台上。她渐渐感到悲伤，胸口发闷，好像有一股悲切的气氛从街上怒吼的人群中传来，使她触景生情。火炬在街上不停地经过，火光在晃动；远处，人群像起伏的波涛，延伸到黑暗之中，颇像夜间被赶向屠宰场的牲口群。令人头晕目眩的混乱的人群，犹如滚滚向前的波浪，令人恐怖之感油然而生，对即将发生的大屠杀产生怜悯之情。狂热情绪使他们冲昏了头脑，歇斯底里地叫喊着，向着黑墙状的地平线冲去，向着不可知的地方冲去。

“进军柏林！进军柏林！进军柏林！”

吕西转过身来，倚在窗口上，脸色变得煞白，说道：

“我的上帝！还不知道我们最后会落到什么样的结局！”

这些女人都摇摇头，个个神态严肃，对局势的变化感到惴惴不安。

“我呀！”卡罗利娜·埃凯从容地说道，”后天我要到伦敦去……我妈妈已经在那里了，她给我安排了一座公馆……当然罗，我才不让自己留在巴黎掉脑袋呢。”

她的母亲是一个小心谨慎的妇女，已经把她的财产转移到外国去了。谁也不知道这场战争最后结局怎样。玛丽亚·布隆却生气了，她是个爱国主义者，她说自己要随军队一起走。

“我是一个围猎能手！……是的，如果他们要我，我就穿起男人军装，朝着普鲁士人开枪，打死那些普鲁士猪猡！……我们都死了怎么样？这样死才光荣呢！”

布朗瑟·德·西弗里听后勃然大怒。

“别骂那些普鲁士人了吧！……他们也是人，与其他人一样，他们不像你的那些法国男人，老是追逐女人……同我住在一起的那个普鲁士小伙子，刚刚被人驱逐走了，他很有钱，性格又温柔，他不会伤害任何人。这样做法真卑鄙，这下也毁了我……你知道，谁也不要再来烦我了，不然我就到德国去找他！”

她们正在争论时，加加用悲伤的语气低声说道：

“这下可完啦，我真倒霉……我在汝维希买了一座小房子，付钱还不到一个星期。啊！天知道我到底花了多大气力！还弄得莉莉不得不资助我……现在战争爆发了，普鲁士人就要打来了，他们会把什么都烧光……像我这样的年纪，还能叫我从头干起吗？”

“嘿！”克拉利瑟说道，“我才不在乎呢！我总是抱这种态度。”

“当然罗，”西蒙娜附和道，“打起仗来挺有意思的……说不定还会因祸得福呢。”

接着她莞尔一笑，以表达她还没有说出来的想法。塔唐·内内和路易丝·维奥莱纳都赞同这种看法。塔唐·内内说，她曾同一些军人花天酒地快活过，哦！他们可都是好小伙子，即使为女人出生入死，也在所不惜。这些女人说话声音太高，一直坐在床前箱子上的罗丝·米尼翁轻轻“嘘”了一声，叫她们安静一些。她们愣了一下，目光瞟瞟死者，仿佛嘘声是从帐幔的暗影里