passage through the midst of the groups and dragging on his arm the
banker Steiner, an exceedingly small man with a corporation already in
evidence and a round face framed in a setting of beard which was already
growing gray.

"Well," said Bordenave to the banker, "you met her yesterday in my
office."

"Ah! It was she, was it?" ejaculated Steiner. "I suspected as much. Only
I was coming out as she was going in, and I scarcely caught a glimpse of
her."

Mignon was listening with half-closed eyelids and nervously twisting a
great diamond ring round his finger. He had quite understood that Nana
was in question. Then as Bordenave was drawing a portrait of his new
star, which lit a flame in the eyes of the banker, he ended by joining
in the conversation.

"Oh, let her alone, my dear fellow; she's a low lot! The public will
show her the door in quick time. Steiner, my laddie, you know that my
wife is waiting for you in her box."

He wanted to take possession of him again. But Steiner would not quit
Bordenave. In front of them a stream of people was crowding and crushing
against the ticket office, and there was a din of voices, in the midst
of which the name of Nana sounded with all the melodious vivacity of its
two syllables. The men who stood planted in front of the notices kept
spelling it out loudly; others, in an interrogative tone, uttered it as
they passed; while the women, at once restless and smiling, repeated
it softly with an air of surprise. Nobody knew Nana. Whence had Nana