Meanwhile Fauchery, with extreme calmness, was looking at the women as
they came in. He went to his cousin's rescue when he saw him all at sea
and doubtful whether to laugh or to be angry.

"Do be pleasant to Bordenave--call his theater what he wishes you to,
since it amuses him. And you, my dear fellow, don't keep us waiting
about for nothing. If your Nana neither sings nor acts you'll find
you've made a blunder, that's all. It's what I'm afraid of, if the truth
be told."

"A blunder! A blunder!" shouted the manager, and his face grew purple.
"Must a woman know how to act and sing? Oh, my chicken, you're too
STOOPID. Nana has other good points, by heaven!--something which is as
good as all the other things put together. I've smelled it out; it's
deuced pronounced with her, or I've got the scent of an idiot. You'll
see, you'll see! She's only got to come on, and all the house will be
gaping at her."

He had held up his big hands which were trembling under the influence of
his eager enthusiasm, and now, having relieved his feelings, he lowered
his voice and grumbled to himself:

"Yes, she'll go far! Oh yes, s'elp me, she'll go far! A skin--oh, what a
skin she's got!"

Then as Fauchery began questioning him he consented to enter into a
detailed explanation, couched in phraseology so crude that Hector de la
Faloise felt slightly disgusted. He had been thick with Nana, and he was
anxious to start her on the stage. Well, just about that time he was in