"They say that things won't be ready in time," La Faloise ventured to
remark. "There's infinite confusion there--"

But the count interrupted him in his severe voice:

"Things will be ready. The emperor desires it."

Fauchery gaily recounted how one day, when he had gone down thither in
search of a subject for an article, he had come near spending all his
time in the aquarium, which was then in course of construction. The
countess smiled. Now and again she glanced down at the body of the
house, raising an arm which a white glove covered to the elbow and
fanning herself with languid hand. The house dozed, almost deserted.
Some gentlemen in the stalls had opened out newspapers, and ladies
received visits quite comfortably, as though they were at their
own homes. Only a well-bred whispering was audible under the great
chandelier, the light of which was softened in the fine cloud of dust
raised by the confused movements of the interval. At the different
entrances men were crowding in order to talk to ladies who remained
seated. They stood there motionless for a few seconds, craning forward
somewhat and displaying the great white bosoms of their shirt fronts.

"We count on you next Tuesday," said the countess to La Faloise, and she
invited Fauchery, who bowed.

Not a word was said of the play; Nana's name was not once mentioned. The
count was so glacially dignified that he might have been supposed to be
taking part at a sitting of the legislature. In order to explain their
presence that evening he remarked simply that his father-in-law was fond