Muffat stood behind her, looking on.

He saw her reflection in the mirror, with her rounded shoulders and her bosom half hidden by a rosy shadow.

And despite all his endeavors he could not turn away his gaze from that face so merry with dimples and so worn with desire, which the closed eye rendered more seductive.

When she shut her right eye and passed the brush along it he understood that he belonged to her.
"They are stamping their feet, madame," the callboy once more cried.
"They'll end by smashing the seats.

May I give the knocks ?" "Oh, bother!" said Nana impatiently.