“And I can still picture your shop. Your mother was a great fatty. One evening when we were playing your father came in drunk. Oh, so drunk!”
At this point Vandeuvres tried to intercept the ladies’ reminiscences and to effect a diversion,
“I say, my dear, I should be very glad to have some more truffles. They’re simply perfect. Yesterday I had some at the house of the Duc de Corbreuse, which did not come up to them at all.”
“The truffles, Julien!” said Nana roughly.
Then returning to the subject:
“By Jove, yes, Dad hadn’t any sense! And then what a smash there was! You should have seen it—down, down, down we went, starving away all the time. I can tell you I’ve had to bear pretty well everything and it’s a miracle I didn’t kick the bucket over it, like Daddy and Mamma.”
This time Muffat, who was playing with his knife in a state of infinite exasperation, made so bold as to intervene.
“What you’re telling us isn’t very cheerful.”
“Eh, what? Not cheerful!” she cried with a withering glance. “I believe you; it isn’t cheerful! Somebody had to earn a living for us dear boy. Oh yes, you know, I’m the right sort; I don’t mince matters. Mamma was a laundress; Daddy used to get drunk, and he died of it! There! If it doesn’t suit you—if you’re ashamed of my family—”
They all protested. What was she after now? They had every sort of respect for her family! But she went on: