Then suddenly, as if this thought brought another one to his memory, “By the way,” he cried, “I met Nana last night.”
This news caused Gervaise such emotion that she sunk down in the dirty water which covered the floor of the shop.
“Ah!” she muttered speechlessly.
“Yes; as I was going down the Rue des Martyrs, I caught sight of a girl who was on the arm of an old fellow in front of me, and I said to myself: I know that shape. I stepped faster and sure enough found myself face to face with Nana. There’s no need to pity her, she looked very happy, with her pretty woolen dress on her back, a gold cross and an awfully pert expression.”
“Ah!” repeated Gervaise in a husky voice.
Lantier, who had finished the pastilles, took some barley-sugar out of another jar.
“She’s sneaky,” he resumed. “She made a sign to me to follow her, with wonderful composure. Then she left her old fellow somewhere in a cafe—oh a wonderful chap, the old bloke, quite used up!—and she came and joined me under the doorway. A pretty little serpent, pretty, and doing the grand, and fawning on you like a little dog. Yes, she kissed me, and wanted to have news of everyone—I was very pleased to meet her.”
“Ah!” said Gervaise for the third time. She drew herself together, and still waited. Hadn’t her daughter had a word for her then? In the silence Poisson’s saw could be heard again. Lantier, who felt gay, was sucking his barley-sugar, and smacking his lips.
“Well, if I saw her, I should go over to the other side of the street,” interposed Virginie, who had just pinched the hatter again most ferociously. “It isn’t because you are there, Madame Coupeau, but your daughter is rotten to the core. Why, every day Poisson arrests girls who are better than she is.”
Gervaise said nothing, nor did she move; her eyes staring into space. She ended by jerking her head to and fro, as if in answer to her thoughts, whilst the hatter, with a gluttonous mien, muttered: