Oh, that's where the shoe pinches, I remember! Well, dear boy, there's nothing very savory in the Mignon's leavings! Oughtn't you to have broken it off with that dirty lot before coming and squirming on my knees ?" He protested vaguely and at last was able to get out a phrase.
"Oh, I don't care a jot for Rose; I'll give her up at once." Nana seemed satisfied on this point.

She continued: "Well then, what's bothering you?
Bordenave's master here.

You'll tell me there's Fauchery after Bordenave--" She had sunk her voice, for she was coming to the delicate part of the matter.

Muffat sat silent, his eyes fixed on the ground.

He had remained voluntarily ignorant of Fauchery's assiduous attentions to the countess, and time had lulled his suspicions and set him hoping that he had been deceiving himself during that fearful night passed in a doorway of the Rue Taitbout.