On the toilet table the bouquets--roses, lilacs and hyacinths--appeared like a very ruin of flowers.

Their perfume was strong and penetrating, while through the dampish air of the place, which was full of the spoiled exhalations of the washstand, came occasional whiffs of a more pungent scent, the scent of some grains or dry patchouli ground to fine powder at the bottom of a cup.

And as she gathered herself together and drew up her dressing jacket, which had been ill fastened, Nana had all the appearance of having been surprised at her toilet: her skin was still damp; she smiled and looked quite startled amid her frills and laces.
"Madame, you will pardon our insistence," said the Count Muffat gravely.
"We come on a quest.

Monsieur and I are members of the Benevolent Organization of the district." The Marquis de Chouard hastened gallantly to add: "When we learned that a great artiste lived in this house we promised ourselves that we would put the claims of our poor people before her in a very special manner.

Talent is never without a heart." Nana pretended to be modest.