And Zoé mentioned the banker first. Nana made a face. Did that man Steiner think she was going to let herself be bored because he had thrown her a bouquet yesterday evening?
“Besides, I’ve had enough of it,” she declared. “I shan’t receive today. Go and say you don’t expect me now.”
“Madame will think the matter over; Madame will receive Monsieur Steiner,” murmured Zoé gravely, without budging from her place. She was annoyed to see her mistress on the verge of committing another foolish mistake.
Then she mentioned the Walachian, who ought by now to find time hanging heavy on his hands in the bedroom. Whereupon Nana grew furious and more obstinate than ever. No, she would see nobody, nobody! Who’d sent her such a blooming leech of a man?
“Chuck ’em all out! I—I’m going to play a game of bezique with Madame Maloir. I prefer doing that.”
The bell interrupted her remarks. That was the last straw. Another of the beggars yet! She forbade Zoé to go and open the door, but the latter had left the kitchen without listening to her, and when she reappeared she brought back a couple of cards and said authoritatively:
“I told them that Madame was receiving visitors. The gentlemen are in the drawing room.”
Nana had sprung up, raging, but the names of the Marquis de Chouard and of Count Muffat de Beuville, which were inscribed on the cards, calmed her down. For a moment or two she remained silent.
“Who are they?” she asked at last. “You know them?”
“I know the old fellow,” replied Zoé, discreetly pursing up her lips.