Her smile lit her red mouth and shined in her eyes of clearest blue . . . a delicate sense of enjoyment made her tilt her nose, the rosy nostrils of which lifted and fell -- while a bright flush suffused her cheeks.
Paris clamored to see her -- "Nana, Nana!" they cried, to bring onstage the new star of The Blonde Venus. Then she appeared -- and as for stage abilities, Nana seemed to have none . . . yet the sensuous vitality of her every movement captivated everyone.
Emile Zola's depiction of Nana's struggles to rise above her squalid upbringing remains a triumph of novelistic naturalism.
