"And where is she?
And what's it of ?" "At the Grand Hotel, of smallpox.

Oh, it's a long story!" Lucy had bidden her coachman drive fast, and while the horses trotted rapidly along the Rue Royale and the boulevards, she told what had happened to Nana in jerky, breathless sentences.
"You can't imagine it.

Nana plumps down out of Russia.

I don't know why--some dispute with her prince.

She leaves her traps at the station; she lands at her aunt's--you remember the old thing.