It's a chorus they all sing.

I can't be nice, but they forthwith begin yelling, 'Will you marry me?
Will you marry me ?'" She lashed herself up and then burst out in fine indignation: "Oh dear, no! I don't want to! D'you think I'm built that way?
Just look at me a bit! Why, I shouldn't be Nana any longer if I fastened a man on behind! And, besides, it's too foul!" And she spat and hiccuped with disgust, as though she had seen all the dirt in the world spread out beneath her.
One evening La Faloise vanished, and a week later it became known that he was in the country with an uncle whose mania was botany.

He was pasting his specimens for him and stood a chance of marrying a very plain, pious cousin.

Nana shed no tears for him.

She simply said to the count: "Eh, little rough, another rival less! You're chortling today.