The room was full of Nana's intimate existence: a pair of gloves, a fallen handkerchief, an open book, lay scattered about, and their owner seemed present in careless attire with that well-known odor of violets and that species of untidiness which became her in her character of good-natured courtesan and had such a charming effect among all those rich surroundings.

The very armchairs, which were as wide as beds, and the sofas, which were as deep as alcoves, invited to slumber oblivious of the flight of time and to tender whispers in shadowy corners.
Satin went and lolled back in the depths of a sofa near the fireplace.
She had lit a cigarette, but Vandeuvres began amusing himself by pretending to be ferociously jealous.

Nay, he even threatened to send her his seconds if she still persisted in keeping Nana from her duty.
Philippe and Georges joined him and teased her and badgered her so mercilessly that at last she shouted out: "Darling! Darling! Do make 'em keep quiet! They're still after me!" "Now then, let her be," said Nana seriously.

"I won't have her tormented; you know that quite well.

And you, my pet, why d'you always go mixing yourself up with them when they've got so little sense ?" Satin, blushing all over and putting out her tongue, went into the dressing room, through the widely open door of which you caught a glimpse of pale marbles gleaming in the milky light of a gas flame in a globe of rough glass.