further deliberation.

Meanwhile Nana waited patiently for a second or two in order to give her
time to sweep the place out, as she phrased it. No one would ever have
expected such a siege! She craned her head into the drawing room and
found it empty. The dining room was empty too. But as she continued
her visitation in a calmer frame of mind, feeling certain that nobody
remained behind, she opened the door of a closet and came suddenly upon
a very young man. He was sitting on the top of a trunk, holding a huge
bouquet on his knees and looking exceedingly quiet and extremely well
behaved.

"Goodness gracious me!" she cried. "There's one of 'em in there even
now!" The very young man had jumped down at sight of her and was
blushing as red as a poppy. He did not know what to do with his bouquet,
which he kept shifting from one hand to the other, while his looks
betrayed the extreme of emotion. His youth, his embarrassment and the
funny figure he cut in his struggles with his flowers melted Nana's
heart, and she burst into a pretty peal of laughter. Well, now, the very
children were coming, were they? Men were arriving in long clothes. So
she gave up all airs and graces, became familiar and maternal, tapped
her leg and asked for fun:

"You want me to wipe your nose; do you, baby?"

"Yes," replied the lad in a low, supplicating tone.

This answer made her merrier than ever. He was seventeen years old, he
said. His name was Georges Hugon. He was at the Varietes last night and
now he had come to see her.