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diff --git a/8600-h/8600-h.htm b/8600-h/8600-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..878f7c5 --- /dev/null +++ b/8600-h/8600-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,20461 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of L’assommoir, by Émile Zola</title> + +<style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of L’assommoir, by Émile Zola</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: L’assommoir</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Émile Zola</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July 27, 2003 [eBook #8600]<br /> +[Last updated: September 15, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: John Bickers, Dagny and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK L’ASSOMMOIR ***</div> + +<h1>L'ASSOMMOIR</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">By Émile Zola</h2> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0001">CHAPTER I.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0002">CHAPTER II.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0003">CHAPTER III.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0004">CHAPTER IV.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0005">CHAPTER V.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0006">CHAPTER VI.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0007">CHAPTER VII.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0008">CHAPTER VIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0009">CHAPTER IX</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0010">CHAPTER X</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0011">CHAPTER XI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0012">CHAPTER XII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#link2HCH0013">CHAPTER XIII</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr /> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"></a> +CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<p> +Gervaise had waited up for Lantier until two in the morning. Then, shivering +from having remained in a thin loose jacket, exposed to the fresh air at the +window, she had thrown herself across the bed, drowsy, feverish, and her cheeks +bathed in tears. +</p> + +<p> +For a week past, on leaving the “Two-Headed Calf,” where they took +their meals, he had sent her home with the children and never reappeared +himself till late at night, alleging that he had been in search of work. That +evening, while watching for his return, she thought she had seen him enter the +dancing-hall of the “Grand-Balcony,” the ten blazing windows of +which lighted up with the glare of a conflagration the dark expanse of the +exterior Boulevards; and five or six paces behind him, she had caught sight of +little Adele, a burnisher, who dined at the same restaurant, swinging her +hands, as if she had just quitted his arm so as not to pass together under the +dazzling light of the globes at the door. +</p> + +<p> +When, towards five o’clock, Gervaise awoke, stiff and sore, she broke +forth into sobs. Lantier had not returned. For the first time he had slept away +from home. She remained seated on the edge of the bed, under the strip of faded +chintz, which hung from the rod fastened to the ceiling by a piece of string. +And slowly, with her eyes veiled by tears, she glanced round the wretched +lodging, furnished with a walnut chest of drawers, minus one drawer, three +rush-bottomed chairs, and a little greasy table, on which stood a broken +water-jug. There had been added, for the children, an iron bedstead, which +prevented any one getting to the chest of drawers, and filled two-thirds of the +room. Gervaise’s and Lantier’s trunk, wide open, in one corner, +displayed its emptiness, and a man’s old hat right at the bottom almost +buried beneath some dirty shirts and socks; whilst, against the walls, above +the articles of furniture, hung a shawl full of holes, and a pair of trousers +begrimed with mud, the last rags which the dealers in second-hand clothes +declined to buy. In the centre of the mantel-piece, lying between two odd zinc +candle-sticks, was a bundle of pink pawn-tickets. It was the best room of the +hotel, the first floor room, looking on to the Boulevard. +</p> + +<p> +The two children were sleeping side by side, with their heads on the same +pillow. Claude, aged eight years, was breathing quietly, with his little hands +thrown outside the coverlet; while Etienne, only four years old, was smiling, +with one arm round his brother’s neck. And bare-footed, without thinking +to again put on the old shoes that had fallen on the floor, she resumed her +position at the window, her eyes searching the pavements in the distance. +</p> + +<p> +The hotel was situated on the Boulevard de la Chapelle, to the left of the +Barriere Poissonniere. It was a building of two stories high, painted a red, of +the color of wine dregs, up to the second floor, and with shutters all rotted +by the rain. Over a lamp with starred panes of glass, one could manage to read, +between the two windows, the words, “Hotel Boncoeur, kept by +Marsoullier,” painted in big yellow letters, several pieces of which the +moldering of the plaster had carried away. The lamp preventing her seeing, +Gervaise raised herself on tiptoe, still holding the handkerchief to her lips. +She looked to the right, towards the Boulevard Rochechouart, where groups of +butchers, in aprons smeared with blood, were hanging about in front of the +slaughter-houses; and the fresh breeze wafted occasionally a stench of +slaughtered beasts. Looking to the left, she scanned a long avenue that ended +nearly in front of her, where the white mass of the Lariboisiere Hospital was +then in course of construction. Slowly, from one end of the horizon to the +other, she followed the octroi wall, behind which she sometimes heard, during +night time, the shrieks of persons being murdered; and she searchingly looked +into the remote angles, the dark corners, black with humidity and filth, +fearing to discern there Lantier’s body, stabbed to death. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at the endless gray wall that surrounded the city with its belt of +desolation. When she raised her eyes higher, she became aware of a bright burst +of sunlight. The dull hum of the city’s awakening already filled the air. +Craning her neck to look at the Poissonniere gate, she remained for a time +watching the constant stream of men, horses, and carts which flooded down from +the heights of Montmartre and La Chapelle, pouring between the two squat octroi +lodges. It was like a herd of plodding cattle, an endless throng widened by +sudden stoppages into eddies that spilled off the sidewalks into the street, a +steady procession of laborers on their way back to work with tools slung over +their back and a loaf of bread under their arm. This human inundation kept +pouring down into Paris to be constantly swallowed up. Gervaise leaned further +out at the risk of falling when she thought she recognized Lantier among the +throng. She pressed the handkerchief tighter against her mouth, as though to +push back the pain within her. +</p> + +<p> +The sound of a young and cheerful voice caused her to leave the window. +</p> + +<p> +“So the old man isn’t here, Madame Lantier?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, no, Monsieur Coupeau,” she replied, trying to smile. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau, a zinc-worker who occupied a ten franc room on the top floor, having +seen the door unlocked, had walked in as friends will do. +</p> + +<p> +“You know,” he continued, “I’m now working over there +in the hospital. What beautiful May weather, isn’t it? The air is rather +sharp this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +And he looked at Gervaise’s face, red with weeping. When he saw that the +bed had not been slept in, he shook his head gently; then he went to the +children’s couch where they were sleeping, looking as rosy as cherubs, +and, lowering his voice, he said, +</p> + +<p> +“Come, the old man’s not been home, has he? Don’t worry +yourself, Madame Lantier. He’s very much occupied with politics. When +they were voting for Eugene Sue the other day, he was acting almost crazy. He +has very likely spent the night with some friends blackguarding crapulous +Bonaparte.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” she murmured with an effort. “You don’t think +that. I know where Lantier is. You see, we have our little troubles like the +rest of the world!” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau winked his eye, to indicate he was not a dupe of this falsehood; and he +went off, after offering to fetch her milk, if she did not care to go out: she +was a good and courageous woman, and might count upon him on any day of +trouble. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as he was gone, Gervaise again returned to the window. At the Barriere, +the tramp of the drove still continued in the morning air: locksmiths in short +blue blouses, masons in white jackets, house painters in overcoats over long +smocks. From a distance the crowd looked like a chalky smear of neutral hue +composed chiefly of faded blue and dingy gray. When one of the workers +occasionally stopped to light his pipe the others kept plodding past him, +without sparing a laugh or a word to a comrade. With cheeks gray as clay, their +eyes were continually drawn toward Paris which was swallowing them one by one. +</p> + +<p> +At both corners of the Rue des Poissonniers however, some of the men slackened +their pace as they neared the doors of the two wine-dealers who were taking +down their shutters; and, before entering, they stood on the edge of the +pavement, looking sideways over Paris, with no strength in their arms and +already inclined for a day of idleness. Inside various groups were already +buying rounds of drinks, or just standing around, forgetting their troubles, +crowding up the place, coughing, spitting, clearing their throats with sip +after sip. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was watching Pere Colombe’s wineshop to the left of the street, +where she thought she had seen Lantier, when a stout woman, bareheaded and +wearing an apron called to her from the middle of the roadway: +</p> + +<p> +“Hey, Madame Lantier, you’re up very early!” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise leaned out. “Why! It’s you, Madame Boche! Oh! I’ve +got a lot of work to-day!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, things don’t do themselves, do they?” +</p> + +<p> +The conversation continued between roadway and window. Madame Boche was +concierge of the building where the “Two-Headed Calf” was on the +ground floor. Gervaise had waited for Lantier more than once in the +concierge’s lodge, so as not to be alone at table with all the men who +ate at the restaurant. Madame Boche was going to a tailor who was late in +mending an overcoat for her husband. She mentioned one of her tenants who had +come in with a woman the night before and kept everybody awake past three in +the morning. She looked at Gervaise with intense curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Monsieur Lantier, then, still in bed?” she asked abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he’s asleep,” replied Gervaise, who could not avoid +blushing. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Boche saw the tears come into her eyes; and, satisfied no doubt, she +turned to go, declaring men to be a cursed, lazy set. As she went off, she +called back: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s this morning you go to the wash-house, isn’t it? +I’ve something to wash, too. I’ll keep you a place next to me, and +we can chat together.” Then, as if moved with sudden pity, she added: +</p> + +<p> +“My poor little thing, you had far better not remain there; you’ll +take harm. You look quite blue with cold.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise still obstinately remained at the window during two mortal hours, till +eight o’clock. Now all the shops had opened. Only a few work men were +still hurrying along. +</p> + +<p> +The working girls now filled the boulevard: metal polishers, milliners, flower +sellers, shivering in their thin clothing. In small groups they chattered +gaily, laughing and glancing here and there. Occasionally there would be one +girl by herself, thin, pale, serious-faced, picking her way along the city wall +among the puddles and the filth. +</p> + +<p> +After the working girls, the office clerks came past, breathing upon their +chilled fingers and munching penny rolls. Some of them are gaunt young fellows +in ill-fitting suits, their tired eyes still fogged from sleep. Others are +older men, stooped and tottering, with faces pale and drawn from long hours of +office work and glancing nervously at their watches for fear of arriving late. +</p> + +<p> +In time the Boulevards settle into their usual morning quiet. Old folks come +out to stroll in the sun. Tired young mothers in bedraggled skirts cuddle +babies in their arms or sit on a bench to change diapers. Children run, +squealing and laughing, pushing and shoving. +</p> + +<p> +Then Gervaise felt herself choking, dizzy with anguish, all hopes gone; it +seemed to her that everything was ended, even time itself, and that Lantier +would return no more. Her eyes vacantly wandered from the old slaughter-house, +foul with butchery and with stench, to the new white hospital which, through +the yawning openings of its ranges of windows, disclosed the naked wards, where +death was preparing to mow. In front of her on the other side of the octroi +wall the bright heavens dazzled her, with the rising sun which rose higher and +higher over the vast awaking city. +</p> + +<p> +The young woman was seated on a chair, no longer crying, and with her hands +abandoned on her lap, when Lantier quietly entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s you! It’s you!” she cried, rising to throw +herself upon his neck. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s me. What of it?” he replied. “You are not +going to begin any of your nonsense, I hope!” +</p> + +<p> +He had pushed her aside. Then, with a gesture of ill-humor he threw his black +felt hat to the chest of drawers. He was a young fellow of twenty-six years of +age, short and very dark, with a handsome figure, and slight moustaches which +his hand was always mechanically twirling. He wore a workman’s overalls +and an old soiled overcoat, which he had belted tightly at the waist, and he +spoke with a strong Provencal accent. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, who had fallen back on her chair, gently complained, in short +sentences: “I’ve not had a wink of sleep. I feared some harm had +happened to you. Where have you been? Where did you spend the night? For +heaven’s sake! Don’t do it again, or I shall go crazy. Tell me +Auguste, where have you been?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where I had business, of course,” he returned shrugging his +shoulders. “At eight o’clock, I was at La Glaciere, with my friend +who is to start a hat factory. We sat talking late, so I preferred to sleep +there. Now, you know, I don’t like being spied upon, so just shut +up!” +</p> + +<p> +The young woman recommenced sobbing. The loud voices and the rough movements of +Lantier, who upset the chairs, had awakened the children. They sat up in bed, +half naked, disentangling their hair with their tiny hands, and, hearing their +mother weep, they uttered terrible screams, crying also with their scarcely +open eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! there’s the music!” shouted Lantier furiously. “I +warn you, I’ll take my hook! And it will be for good, this time. You +won’t shut up? Then, good morning! I’ll return to the place +I’ve just come from.” +</p> + +<p> +He had already taken his hat from off the chest of drawers. But Gervaise threw +herself before him, stammering: “No, no!” +</p> + +<p> +And she hushed the little ones’ tears with her caresses, smoothed their +hair, and soothed them with soft words. The children, suddenly quieted, +laughing on their pillow, amused themselves by punching each other. The father +however, without even taking off his boots, had thrown himself on the bed +looking worn out, his face bearing signs of having been up all night. He did +not go to sleep, he lay with his eyes wide open, looking round the room. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a mess here!” he muttered. And after observing Gervaise +a moment, he malignantly added: “Don’t you even wash yourself +now?” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was twenty-two, tall and slim with fine features, but she was already +beginning to show the strain of her hard life. She seemed to have aged ten +years from the hours of agonized weeping. Lantier’s mean remark made her +mad. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not fair,” she said spiritedly. “You well know +I do all I can. It’s not my fault we find ourselves here. I would like to +see you, with two children, in a room where there’s not even a stove to +heat some water. When we arrived in Paris, instead of squandering your money, +you should have made a home for us at once, as you promised.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen!” Lantier exploded. “You cracked the nut with me; it +doesn’t become you to sneer at it now!” +</p> + +<p> +Apparently not listening, Gervaise went on with her own thought. “If we +work hard we can get out of the hole we’re in. Madame Fauconnier, the +laundress on Rue Neuve, will start me on Monday. If you work with your friend +from La Glaciere, in six months we will be doing well. We’ll have enough +for decent clothes and a place we can call our own. But we’ll have to +stick with it and work hard.” +</p> + +<p> +Lantier turned over towards the wall, looking greatly bored. Then Gervaise lost +her temper. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s it, I know the love of work doesn’t trouble you +much. You’re bursting with ambition, you want to be dressed like a +gentleman. You don’t think me nice enough, do you, now that you’ve +made me pawn all my dresses? Listen, Auguste, I didn’t intend to speak of +it, I would have waited a bit longer, but I know where you spent the night; I +saw you enter the ‘Grand-Balcony’ with that trollop Adele. Ah! you +choose them well! She’s a nice one, she is! She does well to put on the +airs of a princess! She’s been the ridicule of every man who frequents +the restaurant.” +</p> + +<p> +At a bound Lantier sprang from the bed. His eyes had become as black as ink in +his pale face. With this little man, rage blew like a tempest. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, of every man who frequents the restaurant!” repeated the +young woman. “Madame Boche intends to give them notice, she and her long +stick of a sister, because they’ve always a string of men after them on +the staircase.” +</p> + +<p> +Lantier raised his fists; then, resisting the desire of striking her, he seized +hold of her by the arms, shook her violently and sent her sprawling upon the +bed of the children, who recommenced crying. And he lay down again, mumbling, +like a man resolving on something that he previously hesitated to do: +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know what you’ve done, Gervaise. You’ve made +a big mistake; you’ll see.” +</p> + +<p> +For an instant the children continued sobbing. Their mother, who remained +bending over the bed, held them both in her embrace, and kept repeating the +same words in a monotonous tone of voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! if it weren’t for you! My poor little ones! If it +weren’t for you! If it weren’t for you!” +</p> + +<p> +Stretched out quietly, his eyes raised to the faded strip of chintz, Lantier no +longer listened, but seemed to be buried in a fixed idea. He remained thus for +nearly an hour, without giving way to sleep, in spite of the fatigue which +weighed his eyelids down. +</p> + +<p> +He finally turned toward Gervaise, his face set hard in determination. She had +gotten the children up and dressed and had almost finished cleaning the room. +The room looked, as always, dark and depressing with its sooty black ceiling +and paper peeling from the damp walls. The dilapidated furniture was always +streaked and dirty despite frequent dustings. Gervaise, devouring her grief, +trying to assume a look of indifference, hurried over her work. +</p> + +<p> +Lantier watched as she tidied her hair in front of the small mirror hanging +near the window. While she washed herself he looked at her bare arms and +shoulders. He seemed to be making comparisons in his mind as his lips formed a +grimace. Gervaise limped with her right leg, though it was scarcely noticeable +except when she was tired. To-day, exhausted from remaining awake all night, +she was supporting herself against the wall and dragging her leg. +</p> + +<p> +Neither one spoke, they had nothing more to say. Lantier seemed to be waiting, +while Gervaise kept busy and tried to keep her countenance expressionless. +Finally, while she was making a bundle of the dirty clothes thrown in a corner, +behind the trunk, he at length opened his lips and asked: +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing there? Where are you going?” +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer at first. Then, when he furiously repeated his question, she +made up her mind, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you can see for yourself. I’m going to wash all this. +The children can’t live in filth.” +</p> + +<p> +He let her pick up two or three handkerchiefs. And, after a fresh pause, he +resumed: “Have you got any money?” +</p> + +<p> +At these words she stood up and looked him full in the face, without leaving go +of the children’s dirty clothes, which she held in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Money! And where do you think I can have stolen any? You know well +enough that I got three francs the day before yesterday on my black skirt. +We’ve lunched twice off it, and money goes quick at the +pork-butcher’s. No, you may be quite sure I’ve no money. I’ve +four sous for the wash-house. I don’t have an extra income like some +women.” +</p> + +<p> +He let this allusion pass. He had moved off the bed, and was passing in review +the few rags hanging about the room. He ended by taking up the pair of trousers +and the shawl, and searching the drawers, he added two chemises and a +woman’s loose jacket to the parcel; then, he threw the whole bundle into +Gervaise’s arms, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Here, go and pop this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you want me to pop the children as well?” asked she. +“Eh! If they lent on children, it would be a fine riddance!” +</p> + +<p> +She went to the pawn-place, however. When she returned at the end of half an +hour, she laid a hundred sou piece on the mantel-shelf, and added the ticket to +the others, between the two candlesticks. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what they gave me,” said she. “I wanted six +francs, but I couldn’t manage it. Oh! they’ll never ruin +themselves. And there’s always such a crowd there!” +</p> + +<p> +Lantier did not pick up the five franc piece directly. He would rather that she +got change, so as to leave her some of it. But he decided to slip it into his +waistcoat pocket, when he noticed a small piece of ham wrapped up in paper, and +the remains of a loaf on the chest of drawers. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t dare go to the milkwoman’s, because we owe her a +week,” explained Gervaise. “But I shall be back early; you can get +some bread and some chops whilst I’m away, and then we’ll have +lunch. Bring also a bottle of wine.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not say no. Their quarrel seemed to be forgotten. The young woman was +completing her bundle of dirty clothes. But when she went to take +Lantier’s shirts and socks from the bottom of the trunk, he called to her +to leave them alone. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave my things, d’ye hear? I don’t want ’em +touched!” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s it you don’t want touched?” she asked, rising +up. “I suppose you don’t mean to put these filthy things on again, +do you? They must be washed.” +</p> + +<p> +She studied his boyishly handsome face, now so rigid that it seemed nothing +could ever soften it. He angrily grabbed his things from her and threw them +back into the trunk, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Just obey me, for once! I tell you I won’t have ’em +touched!” +</p> + +<p> +“But why?” she asked, turning pale, a terrible suspicion crossing +her mind. “You don’t need your shirts now, you’re not going +away. What can it matter to you if I take them?” +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated for an instant, embarrassed by the piercing glance she fixed upon +him. “Why—why—” stammered he, “because you go and +tell everyone that you keep me, that you wash and mend. Well! It worries me, +there! Attend to your own business and I’ll attend to mine, washerwomen +don’t work for dogs.” +</p> + +<p> +She supplicated, she protested she had never complained; but he roughly closed +the trunk and sat down upon it, saying, “No!” to her face. He could +surely do as he liked with what belonged to him! Then, to escape from the +inquiring looks she leveled at him, he went and laid down on the bed again, +saying that he was sleepy, and requesting her not to make his head ache with +any more of her row. This time indeed, he seemed to fall asleep. Gervaise, for +a while, remained undecided. She was tempted to kick the bundle of dirty +clothes on one side, and to sit down and sew. But Lantier’s regular +breathing ended by reassuring her. She took the ball of blue and the piece of +soap remaining from her last washing, and going up to the little ones who were +quietly playing with some old corks in front of the window, she kissed them, +and said in a low voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Be very good, don’t make any noise; papa’s asleep.” +</p> + +<p> +When she left the room, Claude’s and Etienne’s gentle laughter +alone disturbed the great silence beneath the blackened ceiling. It was ten +o’clock. A ray of sunshine entered by the half open window. +</p> + +<p> +On the Boulevard, Gervaise turned to the left, and followed the Rue Neuve de la +Goutte-d’Or. As she passed Madame Fauconnier’s shop, she slightly +bowed her head. The wash-house she was bound for was situated towards the +middle of the street, at the part where the roadway commenced to ascend. +</p> + +<p> +The rounded, gray contours of the three large zinc wash tanks, studded with +rivets, rose above the flat-roofed building. Behind them was the drying room, a +high second story, closed in on all sides by narrow-slatted lattices so that +the air could circulate freely, and through which laundry could be seen hanging +on brass wires. The steam engine’s smokestack exhaled puffs of white +smoke to the right of the water tanks. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was used to puddles and did not bother to tuck her skirts up before +making her way through the doorway, which was cluttered with jars of bleaching +water. She was already acquainted with the mistress of the wash-house, a +delicate little woman with red, inflamed eyes, who sat in a small glazed closet +with account books in front of her, bars of soap on shelves, balls of blue in +glass bowls, and pounds of soda done up in packets; and, as she passed, she +asked for her beetle and her scouring-brush, which she had left to be taken +care of the last time she had done her washing there. Then, after obtaining her +number, she entered the wash-house. +</p> + +<p> +It was an immense shed, with large clear windows, and a flat ceiling, showing +the beams supported on cast-iron pillars. Pale rays of light passed through the +hot steam, which remained suspended like a milky fog. Smoke arose from certain +corners, spreading about and covering the recesses with a bluish veil. A heavy +moisture hung around, impregnated with a soapy odor, a damp insipid smell, +continuous though at moments overpowered by the more potent fumes of the +chemicals. Along the washing-places, on either side of the central alley, were +rows of women, with bare arms and necks, and skirts tucked up, showing colored +stockings and heavy lace-up shoes. They were beating furiously, laughing, +leaning back to call out a word in the midst of the din, or stooping over their +tubs, all of them brutal, ungainly, foul of speech, and soaked as though by a +shower, with their flesh red and reeking. +</p> + +<p> +All around the women continuously flowed a river from hot-water buckets emptied +with a sudden splash, cold-water faucets left dripping, soap suds spattering, +and the dripping from rinsed laundry which was hung up. It splashed their feet +and drained away across the sloping flagstones. The din of the shouting and the +rhythmic beating was joined by the patter of steady dripping. It was slightly +muffled by the moisture-soaked ceiling. Meanwhile, the steam engine could be +heard as it puffed and snorted ceaselessly while cloaked in its white mist. The +dancing vibration of its flywheel seemed to regulate the volume of the noisy +turbulence. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise passed slowly along the alley, looking to the right and left, carrying +her laundry bundle under one arm, with one hip thrust high and limping more +than usual. She was jostled by several women in the hubbub. +</p> + +<p> +“This way, my dear!” cried Madame Boche, in her loud voice. Then, +when the young woman had joined her at the very end on the left, the concierge, +who was furiously rubbing a dirty sock, began to talk incessantly, without +leaving off her work. “Put your things there, I’ve kept your place. +Oh, I sha’n’t be long over what I’ve got. Boche scarcely +dirties his things at all. And you, you won’t be long either, will you? +Your bundle’s quite a little one. Before twelve o’clock we shall +have finished, and we can go off to lunch. I used to send my things to a +laundress in the Rue Poulet, but she destroyed everything with her chlorine and +her brushes; so now I do the washing myself. It’s so much saved; it only +costs the soap. I say, you should have put those shirts to soak. Those little +rascals of children, on my word! One would think their bodies were covered with +soot.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, having undone her bundle, was spreading out the little ones’ +shirts, and as Madame Boche advised her to take a pailful of lye, she answered, +“Oh, no! warm water will do. I’m used to it.” She had sorted +her laundry with several colored pieces to one side. Then, after filling her +tub with four pails of cold water from the tap behind her, she plunged her pile +of whites into it. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re used to it?” repeated Madame Boche. “You were a +washerwoman in your native place, weren’t you, my dear?” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, with her sleeves pushed back, displayed the graceful arms of a young +blonde, as yet scarcely reddened at the elbows, and started scrubbing her +laundry. She spread a shirt out on the narrow rubbing board which was +water-bleached and eroded by years of use. She rubbed soap into the shirt, +turned it over, and soaped the other side. Before replying to Madame Boche she +grasped her beetle and began to pound away so that her shouted phrases were +punctuated with loud and rhythmic thumps. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, a washerwoman—When I was ten—That’s twelve +years ago—We used to go to the river—It smelt nicer there than it +does here—You should have seen, there was a nook under the trees, with +clear running water—You know, at Plassans—Don’t you know +Plassans?—It’s near Marseilles.” +</p> + +<p> +“How you go at it!” exclaimed Madame Boche, amazed at the strength +of her blows. “You could flatten out a piece of iron with your little +lady-like arms.” +</p> + +<p> +The conversation continued in a very high volume. At times, the concierge, not +catching what was said, was obliged to lean forward. All the linen was beaten, +and with a will! Gervaise plunged it into the tub again, and then took it out +once more, each article separately, to rub it over with soap a second time and +brush it. With one hand she held the article firmly on the plank; with the +other, which grasped the short couch-grass brush, she extracted from the linen +a dirty lather, which fell in long drips. Then, in the slight noise caused by +the brush, the two women drew together, and conversed in a more intimate way. +</p> + +<p> +“No, we’re not married,” resumed Gervaise. “I +don’t hide it. Lantier isn’t so nice for any one to care to be his +wife. If it weren’t for the children! I was fourteen and he was eighteen +when we had our first one. It happened in the usual way, you know how it is. I +wasn’t happy at home. Old man Macquart would kick me in the tail whenever +he felt like it, for no reason at all. I had to have some fun outside. We might +have been married, but—I forget why—our parents wouldn’t +consent.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her hands, which were growing red in the white suds. “The +water’s awfully hard in Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Boche was now washing only very slowly. She kept leaving off, making her +work last as long as she could, so as to remain there, to listen to that story, +which her curiosity had been hankering to know for a fortnight past. Her mouth +was half open in the midst of her big, fat face; her eyes, which were almost at +the top of her head, were gleaming. She was thinking, with the satisfaction of +having guessed right. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s it, the little one gossips too much. There’s been a +row.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, she observed out loud, “He isn’t nice, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t mention it!” replied Gervaise. “He used to +behave very well in the country; but, since we’ve been in Paris, +he’s been unbearable. I must tell you that his mother died last year and +left him some money—about seventeen hundred francs. He would come to +Paris, so, as old Macquart was forever knocking me about without warning, I +consented to come away with him. We made the journey with two children. He was +to set me up as a laundress, and work himself at his trade of a hatter. We +should have been very happy; but, you see, Lantier’s ambitious and a +spendthrift, a fellow who only thinks of amusing himself. In short, he’s +not worth much. On arriving, we went to the Hotel Montmartre, in the Rue +Montmartre. And then there were dinners, and cabs, and the theatre; a watch for +himself and a silk dress for me, for he’s not unkind when he’s got +the money. You understand, he went in for everything, and so well that at the +end of two months we were cleaned out. It was then that we came to live at the +Hotel Boncoeur, and that this horrible life began.” +</p> + +<p> +She interrupted herself. A lump had suddenly risen in her throat, and she could +scarcely restrain her tears. She had finished brushing the things. +</p> + +<p> +“I must go and fetch my hot water,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +But Madame Boche, greatly disappointed at this break off in the disclosures, +called to the wash-house boy, who was passing, “My little Charles, kindly +get madame a pail of hot water; she’s in a hurry.” +</p> + +<p> +The youth took the bucket and brought it back filled. Gervaise paid him; it was +a sou the pailful. She poured the hot water into the tub, and soaped the things +a last time with her hands, leaning over them in a mass of steam, which +deposited small beads of grey vapor in her light hair. +</p> + +<p> +“Here put some soda in, I’ve got some by me,” said the +concierge, obligingly. +</p> + +<p> +And she emptied into Gervaise’s tub what remained of a bag of soda which +she had brought with her. She also offered her some of the chemical water, but +the young woman declined it; it was only good for grease and wine stains. +</p> + +<p> +“I think he’s rather a loose fellow,” resumed Madame Boche, +returning to Lantier, but without naming him. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, bent almost double, her hands all shriveled, and thrust in amongst +the clothes, merely tossed her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” continued the other, “I have noticed several +little things—” But she suddenly interrupted herself, as Gervaise +jumped up, with a pale face, and staring wildly at her. Then she exclaimed, +“Oh, no! I don’t know anything! He likes to laugh a bit, I think, +that’s all. For instance, you know the two girls who lodge at my place, +Adele and Virginie. Well, he larks about with ’em, but he just flirts for +sport.” +</p> + +<p> +The young woman standing before her, her face covered with perspiration, the +water dripping from her arms, continued to stare at her with a fixed and +penetrating look. Then the concierge got excited, giving herself a blow on the +chest, and pledging her word of honor, she cried: +</p> + +<p> +“I know nothing, I mean it when I say so!” +</p> + +<p> +Then calming herself, she added in a gentle voice, as if speaking to a person +on whom loud protestations would have no effect, “I think he has a frank +look about the eyes. He’ll marry you, my dear, I’m sure of +it.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise wiped her forehead with her wet hand. Shaking her head again, she +pulled another garment out of the water. Both of them kept silence for a +moment. The wash-house was quieting down, for eleven o’clock had struck. +Half of the washerwomen were perched on the edge of their tubs, eating sausages +between slices of bread and drinking from open bottles of wine. Only housewives +who had come to launder small bundles of family linen were hurrying to finish. +</p> + +<p> +Occasional beetle blows could still be heard amid the subdued laughter and +gossip half-choked by the greedy chewing of jawbones. The steam engine never +stopped. Its vibrant, snorting voice seemed to fill the entire hall, though not +one of the women even heard it. It was like the breathing of the wash-house, +its hot breath collecting under the ceiling rafters in an eternal floating +mist. +</p> + +<p> +The heat was becoming intolerable. Through the tall windows on the left +sunlight was streaming in, touching the steamy vapors with opalescent tints of +soft pinks and grayish blues. Charles went from window to window, letting down +the heavy canvas awnings. Then he crossed to the shady side to open the +ventilators. He was applauded by cries and hand clapping and a rough sort of +gaiety spread around. Soon even the last of the beetle-pounding stopped. +</p> + +<p> +With full mouths, the washerwomen could only make gestures. It became so quiet +that the grating sound of the fireman shoveling coal into the engine’s +firebox could be heard at regular intervals from far at the other end. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was washing her colored things in the hot water thick with lather, +which she had kept for the purpose. When she had finished, she drew a trestle +towards her and hung across it all the different articles; the drippings from +which made bluish puddles on the floor; and she commenced rinsing. Behind her, +the cold water tap was set running into a vast tub fixed to the ground, and +across which were two wooden bars whereon to lay the clothes. High up in the +air were two other bars for the things to finish dripping on. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re almost finished, and not a bad job,” said Madame +Boche. “I’ll wait and help you wring all that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! it’s not worth while; I’m much obliged though,” +replied the young woman, who was kneading with her hands and sousing the +colored things in some clean water. “If I’d any sheets, it would be +another thing.” +</p> + +<p> +But she had, however, to accept the concierge’s assistance. They were +wringing between them, one at each end, a woolen skirt of a washed-out chestnut +color, from which dribbled a yellowish water, when Madame Boche exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Why, there’s tall Virginie! What has she come here to wash, when +all her wardrobe that isn’t on her would go into a pocket +handkerchief?” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise jerked her head up. Virginie was a girl of her own age, taller than +she was, dark and pretty in spite of her face being rather long and narrow. She +had on an old black dress with flounces, and a red ribbon round her neck; and +her hair was done up carefully, the chignon being enclosed in a blue silk net. +She stood an instant in the middle of the central alley, screwing up her eyes +as though seeking someone; then, when she caught sight of Gervaise, she passed +close to her, erect, insolent, and with a swinging gait, and took a place in +the same row, five tubs away from her. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a freak for you!” continued Madame Boche in a lower +tone of voice. “She never does any laundry, not even a pair of cuffs. A +seamstress who doesn’t even sew on a loose button! She’s just like +her sister, the brass burnisher, that hussy Adele, who stays away from her job +two days out of three. Nobody knows who their folks are or how they make a +living. Though, if I wanted to talk . . . What on earth is she scrubbing there? +A filthy petticoat. I’ll wager it’s seen some lovely sights, that +petticoat!” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Boche was evidently trying to make herself agreeable to Gervaise. The +truth was she often took a cup of coffee with Adele and Virginia, when the +girls had any money. Gervaise did not answer, but hurried over her work with +feverish hands. She had just prepared her blue in a little tub that stood on +three legs. She dipped in the linen things, and shook them an instant at the +bottom of the colored water, the reflection of which had a pinky tinge; and +after wringing them lightly, she spread them out on the wooden bars up above. +During the time she was occupied with this work, she made a point of turning +her back on Virginie. But she heard her chuckles; she could feel her sidelong +glances. Virginie appeared only to have come there to provoke her. At one +moment, Gervaise having turned around, they both stared into each other’s +faces. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave her alone,” whispered Madame Boche. “You’re not +going to pull each other’s hair out, I hope. When I tell you +there’s nothing to it! It isn’t her, anyhow!” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, as the young woman was hanging up the last article of clothing, +there was a sound of laughter at the door of the wash-house. +</p> + +<p> +“Here are two brats who want their mamma!” cried Charles. +</p> + +<p> +All the women leant forward. Gervaise recognized Claude and Etienne. As soon as +they caught sight of her, they ran to her through the puddles, the heels of +their unlaced shoes resounding on the flagstones. Claude, the eldest, held his +little brother by the hand. The women, as they passed them, uttered little +exclamations of affection as they noticed their frightened though smiling +faces. And they stood there, in front of their mother, without leaving go of +each other’s hands, and holding their fair heads erect. +</p> + +<p> +“Has papa sent you?” asked Gervaise. +</p> + +<p> +But as she stooped to tie the laces of Etienne’s shoes, she saw the key +of their room on one of Claude’s fingers, with the brass number hanging +from it. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you’ve brought the key!” she said, greatly surprised. +“What’s that for?” +</p> + +<p> +The child, seeing the key which he had forgotten on his finger, appeared to +recollect, and exclaimed in his clear voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Papa’s gone away.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s gone to buy the lunch, and told you to come here to fetch +me?” +</p> + +<p> +Claude looked at his brother, hesitated, no longer recollecting. Then he +resumed all in a breath: “Papa’s gone away. He jumped off the bed, +he put all the things in the trunk, he carried the trunk down to a cab. +He’s gone away.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, who was squatting down, slowly rose to her feet, her face ghastly +pale. She put her hands to her cheeks and temples, as though she felt her head +was breaking; and she could find only these words, which she repeated twenty +times in the same tone of voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! good heavens!—ah! good heavens!—ah! good heavens!” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Boche, however, also questioned the child, quite delighted at the chance +of hearing the whole story. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, little one, you must tell us just what happened. It was he who +locked the door and who told you to bring the key, wasn’t it?” And, +lowering her voice, she whispered in Claude’s ear: “Was there a +lady in the cab?” +</p> + +<p> +The child again got confused. Then he recommenced his story in a triumphant +manner: “He jumped off the bed, he put all the things in the trunk. +He’s gone away.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, when Madame Boche let him go, he drew his brother in front of the tap, +and they amused themselves by turning on the water. Gervaise was unable to cry. +She was choking, leaning back against her tub, her face still buried in her +hands. Brief shudders rocked her body and she wailed out long sighs while +pressing her hands tighter against her eyes, as though abandoning herself to +the blackness of desolation, a dark, deep pit into which she seemed to be +falling. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, my dear, pull yourself together!” murmured Madame Boche. +</p> + +<p> +“If you only knew! If you only knew!” said she at length very +faintly. “He sent me this morning to pawn my shawl and my chemises to pay +for that cab.” +</p> + +<p> +And she burst out crying. The memory of the events of that morning and of her +trip to the pawn-place tore from her the sobs that had been choking her throat. +That abominable trip to the pawn-place was the thing that hurt most in all her +sorrow and despair. Tears were streaming down her face but she didn’t +think of using her handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“Be reasonable, do be quiet, everyone’s looking at you,” +Madame Boche, who hovered round her, kept repeating. “How can you worry +yourself so much on account of a man? You loved him, then, all the same, did +you, my poor darling? A little while ago you were saying all sorts of things +against him; and now you’re crying for him, and almost breaking your +heart. Dear me, how silly we all are!” +</p> + +<p> +Then she became quite maternal. +</p> + +<p> +“A pretty little woman like you! Can it be possible? One may tell you +everything now, I suppose. Well! You recollect when I passed under your window, +I already had my suspicions. Just fancy, last night, when Adele came home, I +heard a man’s footsteps with hers. So I thought I would see who it was. I +looked up the staircase. The fellow was already on the second landing; but I +certainly recognized Monsieur Lantier’s overcoat. Boche, who was on the +watch this morning, saw him tranquilly nod adieu. He was with Adele, you know. +Virginie has a situation now, where she goes twice a week. Only it’s +highly imprudent all the same, for they’ve only one room and an alcove, +and I can’t very well say where Virginie managed to sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +She interrupted herself an instant, turned round, and then resumed, subduing +her loud voice: +</p> + +<p> +“She’s laughing at seeing you cry, that heartless thing over there. +I’d stake my life that her washing’s all a pretence. She’s +packed off the other two, and she’s come here so as to tell them how you +take it.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise removed her hands from her face and looked. When she beheld Virginie +in front of her, amidst three or four women, speaking low and staring at her, +she was seized with a mad rage. Her arms in front of her, searching the ground, +she stumbled forward a few paces. Trembling all over, she found a bucket full +of water, grabbed it with both hands, and emptied it at Virginie. +</p> + +<p> +“The virago!” yelled tall Virginie. +</p> + +<p> +She had stepped back, and her boots alone got wet. The other women, who for +some minutes past had all been greatly upset by Gervaise’s tears, jostled +each other in their anxiety to see the fight. Some, who were finishing their +lunch, got on the tops of their tubs. Others hastened forward, their hands +smothered with soap. A ring was formed. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! the virago!” repeated tall Virginie. “What’s the +matter with her? She’s mad!” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, standing on the defensive, her chin thrust out, her features +convulsed, said nothing, not having yet acquired the Paris gift of street gab. +The other continued: +</p> + +<p> +“Get out! This girl’s tired of wallowing about in the country; she +wasn’t twelve years old when the soldiers were at her. She even lost her +leg serving her country. That leg’s rotting off.” +</p> + +<p> +The lookers-on burst out laughing. Virginie, seeing her success, advanced a +couple of steps, drawing herself up to her full height, and yelling louder than +ever: +</p> + +<p> +“Here! Come a bit nearer, just to see how I’ll settle you! +Don’t you come annoying us here. Do I even know her, the hussy? If +she’d wetted me, I’d have pretty soon shown her battle, as +you’d have seen. Let her just say what I’ve ever done to her. +Speak, you vixen; what’s been done to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk so much,” stammered Gervaise. “You know +well enough. Some one saw my husband last night. And shut up, because if you +don’t I’ll most certainly strangle you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Her husband! That’s a good one! As if cripples like her had +husbands! If he’s left you it’s not my fault. Surely you +don’t think I’ve stolen him, do you? He was much too good for you +and you made him sick. Did you keep him on a leash? Has anyone here seen her +husband? There’s a reward.” +</p> + +<p> +The laughter burst forth again. Gervaise contented herself with continually +murmuring in a low tone of voice: +</p> + +<p> +“You know well enough, you know well enough. It’s your sister. +I’ll strangle her—your sister.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, go and try it on with my sister,” resumed Virginie +sneeringly. “Ah! it’s my sister! That’s very likely. My +sister looks a trifle different to you; but what’s that to me? +Can’t one come and wash one’s clothes in peace now? Just dry up, +d’ye hear, because I’ve had enough of it!” +</p> + +<p> +But it was she who returned to the attack, after giving five or six strokes +with her beetle, intoxicated by the insults she had been giving utterance to, +and worked up into a passion. She left off and recommenced again, speaking in +this way three times: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes! it’s my sister. There now, does that satisfy you? They +adore each other. You should just see them bill and coo! And he’s left +you with your children. Those pretty kids with scabs all over their faces! You +got one of them from a gendarme, didn’t you? And you let three others die +because you didn’t want to pay excess baggage on your journey. It’s +your Lantier who told us that. Ah! he’s been telling some fine things; +he’d had enough of you!” +</p> + +<p> +“You dirty jade! You dirty jade! You dirty jade!” yelled Gervaise, +beside herself, and again seized with a furious trembling. She turned round, +looking once more about the ground; and only observing the little tub, she +seized hold of it by the legs, and flung the whole of the bluing at +Virginie’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“The beast! She’s spoilt my dress!” cried the latter, whose +shoulder was sopping wet and whose left hand was dripping blue. “Just +wait, you wretch!” +</p> + +<p> +In her turn she seized a bucket, and emptied it over Gervaise. Then a +formidable battle began. They both ran along the rows of tubs, seized hold of +the pails that were full, and returned to dash the contents at each +other’s heads. And each deluge was accompanied by a volley of words. +Gervaise herself answered now: +</p> + +<p> +“There, you scum! You got it that time. It’ll help to cool +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! the carrion! That’s for your filth. Wash yourself for once in +your life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, I’ll wash the salt out of you, you cod!” +</p> + +<p> +“Another one! Brush your teeth, fix yourself up for your post to-night at +the corner of the Rue Belhomme.” +</p> + +<p> +They ended by having to refill the buckets at the water taps, continuing to +insult each other the while. The initial bucketfuls were so poorly aimed as to +scarcely reach their targets, but they soon began to splash each other in +earnest. Virginie was the first to receive a bucketful in the face. The water +ran down, soaking her back and front. She was still staggering when another +caught her from the side, hitting her left ear and drenching her chignon which +then came unwound into a limp, bedraggled string of hair. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was hit first in the legs. One pail filled her shoes full of water and +splashed up to her thighs. Two more wet her even higher. Soon both of them were +soaked from top to bottom and it was impossible to count the hits. Their +clothes were plastered to their bodies and they looked shrunken. Water was +dripping everywhere as from umbrellas in a rainstorm. +</p> + +<p> +“They look jolly funny!” said the hoarse voice of one of the women. +</p> + +<p> +Everyone in the wash-house was highly amused. A good space was left to the +combatants, as nobody cared to get splashed. Applause and jokes circulated in +the midst of the sluice-like noise of the buckets emptied in rapid succession! +On the floor the puddles were running one into another, and the two women were +wading in them up to their ankles. Virginie, however, who had been meditating a +treacherous move, suddenly seized hold of a pail of lye, which one of her +neighbors had left there and threw it. The same cry arose from all. Everyone +thought Gervaise was scalded; but only her left foot had been slightly touched. +And, exasperated by the pain, she seized a bucket, without troubling herself to +fill it this time, and threw it with all her might at the legs of Virginie, who +fell to the ground. All the women spoke together. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s broken one of her limbs!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, the other tried to cook her!” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s right, after all, the blonde one, if her man’s been +taken from her!” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Boche held up her arms to heaven, uttering all sorts of exclamations. +She had prudently retreated out of the way between two tubs; and the children, +Claude and Etienne, crying, choking, terrified, clung to her dress with the +continuous cry of “Mamma! Mamma!” broken by their sobs. When she +saw Virginie fall she hastened forward, and tried to pull Gervaise away by her +skirt, repeating the while, +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, go home! Be reasonable. On my word, it’s quite upset me. +Never was such a butchery seen before.” +</p> + +<p> +But she had to draw back and seek refuge again between the two tubs, with the +children. Virginie had just flown at Gervaise’s throat. She squeezed her +round the neck, trying to strangle her. The latter freed herself with a violent +jerk, and in her turn hung on to the other’s hair, as though she was +trying to pull her head off. The battle was silently resumed, without a cry, +without an insult. They did not seize each other round the body, they attacked +each other’s faces with open hands and clawing fingers, pinching, +scratching whatever they caught hold of. The tall, dark girl’s red ribbon +and blue silk hair net were torn off. The body of her dress, giving way at the +neck, displayed a large portion of her shoulder; whilst the blonde, half +stripped, a sleeve gone from her loose white jacket without her knowing how, +had a rent in her underlinen, which exposed to view the naked line of her +waist. Shreds of stuff flew in all directions. It was from Gervaise that the +first blood was drawn, three long scratches from the mouth to the chin; and she +sought to protect her eyes, shutting them at every grab the other made, for +fear of having them torn out. No blood showed on Virginie as yet. Gervaise +aimed at her ears, maddened at not being able to reach them. At length she +succeeded in seizing hold of one of the earrings—an imitation pear in +yellow glass—which she pulled out and slit the ear, and the blood flowed. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re killing each other! Separate them, the vixens!” +exclaimed several voices. +</p> + +<p> +The other women had drawn nearer. They formed themselves into two camps. Some +were cheering the combatants on as the others were trembling and turning their +heads away saying that it was making them sick. A large fight nearly broke out +between the two camps as the women called each other names and brandished their +fists threateningly. Three loud slaps rang out. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Boche, meanwhile, was trying to discover the wash-house boy. +</p> + +<p> +“Charles! Charles! Wherever has he got to?” +</p> + +<p> +And she found him in the front rank, looking on with his arms folded. He was a +big fellow, with an enormous neck. He was laughing and enjoying the sight of +the skin which the two women displayed. The little blonde was as fat as a +quail. It would be fun if her chemise burst open. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” murmured he, blinking his eye, “she’s got a +strawberry birthmark under her arm.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! You’re there!” cried Madame Boche, as she caught sight +of him. “Just come and help us separate them. You can easily separate +them, you can!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no! thank you, not if I know it,” said he coolly. “To +get my eye scratched like I did the other day, I suppose! I’m not here +for that sort of thing; I have enough to do without that. Don’t be +afraid, a little bleeding does ’em good; it’ll soften +’em.” +</p> + +<p> +The concierge then talked of fetching the police; but the mistress of the +wash-house, the delicate young woman with the red, inflamed eyes, would not +allow her to do this. She kept saying: +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, I won’t; it’ll compromise my establishment.” +</p> + +<p> +The struggle on the ground continued. All on a sudden, Virginie raised herself +up on her knees. She had just gotten hold of a beetle and held it on high. She +had a rattle in her throat and in an altered voice, she exclaimed, +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s something that’ll settle you! Get your dirty linen +ready!” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise quickly thrust out her hand, and also seized a beetle, and held it up +like a club; and she too spoke in a choking voice, +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you want to wash. Let me get hold of your skin that I may beat it +into dish-cloths!” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment they remained there, on their knees, menacing each other. Their +hair all over their faces, their breasts heaving, muddy, swelling with rage, +they watched one another, as they waited and took breath. Gervaise gave the +first blow. Her beetle glided off Virginie’s shoulder, and she at once +threw herself on one side to avoid the latter’s beetle, which grazed her +hip. Then, warming to their work they struck at each other like washerwomen +beating clothes, roughly, and in time. Whenever there was a hit, the sound was +deadened, so that one might have thought it a blow in a tub full of water. The +other women around them no longer laughed. Several had gone off saying that it +quite upset them; those who remained stretched out their necks, their eyes +lighted up with a gleam of cruelty, admiring the pluck displayed. Madame Boche +had led Claude and Etienne away, and one could hear at the other end of the +building the sound of their sobs, mingled with the sonorous shocks of the two +beetles. But Gervaise suddenly yelled. Virginie had caught her a whack with all +her might on her bare arm, just above the elbow. A large red mark appeared, the +flesh at once began to swell. Then she threw herself upon Virginie, and +everyone thought she was going to beat her to death. +</p> + +<p> +“Enough! Enough!” was cried on all sides. +</p> + +<p> +Her face bore such a terrible expression, that no one dared approach her. Her +strength seemed to have increased tenfold. She seized Virginie round the waist, +bent her down and pressed her face against the flagstones. Raising her beetle +she commenced beating as she used to beat at Plassans, on the banks of the +Viorne, when her mistress washed the clothes of the garrison. The wood seemed +to yield to the flesh with a damp sound. At each whack a red weal marked the +white skin. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, oh!” exclaimed the boy Charles, opening his eyes to their full +extent and gloating over the sight. +</p> + +<p> +Laughter again burst forth from the lookers-on, but soon the cry, +“Enough! Enough!” recommenced. Gervaise heard not, neither did she +tire. She examined her work, bent over it, anxious not to leave a dry place. +She wanted to see the whole of that skin beaten, covered with contusions. And +she talked, seized with a ferocious gaiety, recalling a washerwoman’s +song, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Bang! Bang! Margot at her tub.<br/> +Bang! Bang! Beating rub-a-dub.<br/> +Bang! Bang! Tries to wash her heart.<br/> +Bang! Bang! Black with grief to part.” +</p> + +<p> +And then she resumed, +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“That’s for you, that’s for your sister.<br/> +That’s for Lantier.<br/> +When you next see them,<br/> +You can give them that.<br/> +Attention! I’m going to begin again.<br/> +That’s for Lantier, that’s for your sister.<br/> +That’s for you.<br/> +Bang! Bang! Margot at her tub.<br/> +Bang! Bang! Beating rub-a-dub—” +</p> + +<p> +The others were obliged to drag Virginie away from her. The tall, dark girl, +her face bathed in tears and purple with shame, picked up her things and +hastened away. She was vanquished. Gervaise slipped on the sleeve of her jacket +again, and fastened up her petticoats. Her arm pained her a good deal, and she +asked Madame Boche to place her bundle of clothes on her shoulder. The +concierge referred to the battle, spoke of her emotions, and talked of +examining the young woman’s person, just to see. +</p> + +<p> +“You may, perhaps, have something broken. I heard a tremendous +blow.” +</p> + +<p> +But Gervaise wanted to go home. She made no reply to the pitying remarks and +noisy ovation of the other women who surrounded her, erect in their aprons. +When she was laden she gained the door, where the children awaited her. +</p> + +<p> +“Two hours, that makes two sous,” said the mistress of the +wash-house, already back at her post in the glazed closet. +</p> + +<p> +Why two sous? She no longer understood that she was asked to pay for her place +there. Then she gave the two sous; and limping very much beneath the weight of +the wet clothes on her shoulder, the water dripping from off her, her elbow +black and blue, her cheek covered with blood, she went off, dragging Claude and +Etienne with her bare arms, whilst they trotted along on either side of her, +still trembling, and their faces besmeared with their tears. +</p> + +<p> +Once she was gone, the wash-house resumed its roaring tumult. The washerwomen +had eaten their bread and drunk their wine. Their faces were lit up and their +spirits enlivened by the fight between Gervaise and Virginie. +</p> + +<p> +The long lines of tubs were astir again with the fury of thrashing arms, of +craggy profiles, of marionettes with bent backs and slumping shoulders that +twisted and jerked violently as though on hinges. Conversations went on from +one end to the other in loud voices. Laughter and coarse remarks crackled +through the ceaseless gurgling of the water. Faucets were sputtering, buckets +spilling, rivulets flowing underneath the rows of washboards. Throughout the +huge shed rising wisps of steam reflected a reddish tint, pierced here and +there by disks of sunlight, golden globes that had leaked through holes in the +awnings. The air was stiflingly warm and odorous with soap. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the hall was filled with a white mist. The huge copper lid of the +lye-water kettle was rising mechanically along a notched shaft, and from the +gaping copper hollow within its wall of bricks came whirling clouds of vapor. +Meanwhile, at one side the drying machines were hard at work; within their +cast-iron cylinders bundles of laundry were being wrung dry by the centrifugal +force of the steam engine, which was still puffing, steaming, jolting the +wash-house with the ceaseless labor of its iron limbs. +</p> + +<p> +When Gervaise turned into the entry of the Hotel Boncoeur, her tears again +mastered her. It was a dark, narrow passage, with a gutter for the dirty water +running alongside the wall; and the stench which she again encountered there +caused her to think of the fortnight she had passed in the place with +Lantier—a fortnight of misery and quarrels, the recollection of which was +now a bitter regret. It seemed to bring her abandonment home to her. +</p> + +<p> +Upstairs the room was bare, in spite of the sunshine which entered through the +open window. That blaze of light, that kind of dancing golden dust, exposed the +lamentable condition of the blackened ceiling, and of the walls half denuded of +paper, all the more. The only thing left hanging in the room was a +woman’s small neckerchief, twisted like a piece of string. The +children’s bedstead, drawn into the middle of the apartment, displayed +the chest of drawers, the open drawers of which exposed their emptiness. +Lantier had washed himself and had used up the last of the pomatum—two +sous’ worth of pomatum in a playing card; the greasy water from his hands +filled the basin. And he had forgotten nothing. The corner which until then had +been filled by the trunk seemed to Gervaise an immense empty space. Even the +little mirror which hung on the window-fastening was gone. When she made this +discovery, she had a presentiment. She looked on the mantel-piece. Lantier had +taken away the pawn tickets; the pink bundle was no longer there, between the +two odd zinc candlesticks. +</p> + +<p> +She hung her laundry over the back of a chair and just stood there, gazing +around at the furniture. She was so dulled and bewildered that she could no +longer cry. She had only one sou left. Then, hearing Claude and Etienne +laughing merrily by the window, their troubles already forgotten, she went to +them and put her arms about them, losing herself for a moment in contemplation +of that long gray avenue where, that very morning, she had watched the +awakening of the working population, of the immense work-shop of Paris. +</p> + +<p> +At this hour immense heat was rising from the pavement and from all the +furnaces in the factories, setting alight a reflecting oven over the city and +beyond the octroi wall. Out upon this very pavement, into this furnace blast, +she had been tossed, alone with her little ones. As she glanced up and down the +boulevard, she was seized with a dull dread that her life would be fixed there +forever, between a slaughter-house and a hospital. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"></a> +CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<p> +Three weeks later, towards half-past eleven, one beautiful sunshiny day, +Gervaise and Coupeau, the zinc-worker, were each partaking of a plum preserved +in brandy, at “l’Assommoir” kept by Pere Colombe. Coupeau, +who had been smoking a cigarette on the pavement, had prevailed on her to go +inside as she returned from taking home a customer’s washing; and her big +square laundress’s basket was on the floor beside her, behind the little +zinc covered table. +</p> + +<p> +Pere Colombe’s l’Assommoir was at the corner of Rue des +Poissonniers and Boulevard de Rochechouart. The sign, in tall blue letters +stretching from one end to the other said: Distillery. Two dusty oleanders +planted in half casks stood beside the doorway. A long bar with its tin +measuring cups was on the left as you entered. The large room was decorated +with casks painted a gay yellow, bright with varnish, and gleaming with copper +taps and hoops. +</p> + +<p> +On the shelves above the bar were liquor bottles, jars of fruit preserved in +brandy, and flasks of all shapes. They completely covered the wall and were +reflected in the mirror behind the bar as colorful spots of apple green, pale +gold, and soft brown. The main feature of the establishment, however, was the +distilling apparatus. It was at the rear, behind an oak railing in a glassed-in +area. The customers could watch its functioning, long-necked still-pots, copper +worms disappearing underground, a devil’s kitchen alluring to +drink-sodden work men in search of pleasant dreams. +</p> + +<p> +L’Assommoir was nearly empty at the lunch hour. Pere Colombe, a heavy man +of forty, was serving a ten year old girl who had asked him to place four +sous’ worth of brandy into her cup. A shaft of sunlight came through the +entrance to warm the floor which was always damp from the smokers’ +spitting. From everything, the casks, the bar, the entire room, a liquorish +odor arose, an alcoholic aroma which seemed to thicken and befuddle the dust +motes dancing in the sunlight. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau was making another cigarette. He was very neat, in a short blue linen +blouse and cap, and was laughing and showing his white teeth. With a projecting +under jaw and a slightly snub nose, he had handsome chestnut eyes, and the face +of a jolly dog and a thorough good fellow. His coarse curly hair stood erect. +His skin still preserved the softness of his twenty-six years. Opposite to him, +Gervaise, in a thin black woolen dress, and bareheaded, was finishing her plum +which she held by the stalk between the tips of her fingers. They were close to +the street, at the first of the four tables placed alongside the barrels facing +the bar. +</p> + +<p> +When the zinc-worker had lit his cigarette, he placed his elbows on the table, +thrust his face forward, and for an instant looked without speaking at the +young woman, whose pretty fair face had that day the milky transparency of +china. Then, alluding to a matter known to themselves alone, and already +discussed between them, he simply asked in a low voice: +</p> + +<p> +“So it’s to be ‘no’? you say ‘no’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! most decidedly ‘no’ Monsieur Coupeau,” quietly +replied Gervaise with a smile. “I hope you’re not going to talk to +me about that here. You know you promised me you would be reasonable. Had I +known, I wouldn’t have let you treat me.” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau kept silence, looking at her intently with a boldness. She sat still, +at ease and friendly. At the end of a brief silence she added: +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t really mean it. I’m an old woman; I’ve a big +boy eight years old. Whatever could we two do together?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why!” murmured Coupeau, blinking his eyes, “what the others +do, of course, get married!” +</p> + +<p> +She made a gesture of feeling annoyed. “Oh! do you think it’s +always pleasant? One can very well see you’ve never seen much of living. +No, Monsieur Coupeau, I must think of serious things. Burdening oneself never +leads to anything, you know! I’ve two mouths at home which are never +tired of swallowing, I can tell you! How do you suppose I can bring up my +little ones, if I only sit here talking indolently? And listen, besides that, +my misfortune has been a famous lesson to me. You know I don’t care a bit +about men now. They won’t catch me again for a long while.” +</p> + +<p> +She spoke with such cool objectivity that it was clear she had resolved this in +her mind, turning it about thoroughly. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau was deeply moved and kept repeating: “I feel so sorry for you. It +causes me a great deal of pain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know that,” resumed she, “and I am sorry, Monsieur +Coupeau. But you mustn’t take it to heart. If I had any idea of enjoying +myself, <i>mon Dieu!</i>, I would certainly rather be with you than anyone +else. You’re a good boy and gentle. Only, where’s the use, as +I’ve no inclination to wed? I’ve been for the last fortnight, now, +at Madame Fauconnier’s. The children go to school. I’ve work, +I’m contented. So the best is to remain as we are, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +And she stooped down to take her basket. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re making me talk; they must be expecting me at the shop. +You’ll easily find someone else prettier than I, Monsieur Coupeau, and +who won’t have two boys to drag about with her.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at the clock inserted in the frame-work of the mirror, and made her +sit down again, exclaiming: +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be in such a hurry! It’s only eleven thirty-five. +I’ve still twenty-five minutes. You don’t have to be afraid that I +shall do anything foolish; there’s the table between us. So you detest me +so much that you won’t stay and have a little chat with me.” +</p> + +<p> +She put her basket down again, so as not to disoblige him; and they conversed +like good friends. She had eaten her lunch before going out with the laundry. +He had gulped down his soup and beef hurriedly to be able to wait for her. All +the while she chatted amiably, Gervaise kept looking out the window at the +activity on the street. It was now unusually crowded with the lunch time rush. +</p> + +<p> +Everywhere were hurried steps, swinging arms, and pushing elbows. Some late +comers, hungry and angry at being kept extra long at the job, rushed across the +street into the bakery. They emerged with a loaf of bread and went three doors +farther to the Two-Headed Calf to gobble down a six-sou meat dish. +</p> + +<p> +Next door to the bakery was a grocer who sold fried potatoes and mussels cooked +with parsley. A procession of girls went in to get hot potatoes wrapped in +paper and cups of steaming mussels. Other pretty girls bought bunches of +radishes. By leaning a bit, Gervaise could see into the sausage shop from which +children issued, holding a fried chop, a sausage or a piece of hot blood +pudding wrapped in greasy paper. The street was always slick with black mud, +even in clear weather. A few laborers had already finished their lunch and were +strolling aimlessly about, their open hands slapping their thighs, heavy from +eating, slow and peaceful amid the hurrying crowd. A group formed in front of +the door of l’Assommoir. +</p> + +<p> +“Say, Bibi-the-Smoker,” demanded a hoarse voice, +“aren’t you going to buy us a round of <i>vitriol</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +Five laborers came in and stood by the bar. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Here’s that thief, Pere Colombe!” the voice continued. +“We want the real old stuff, you know. And full sized glasses, +too.” +</p> + +<p> +Pere Colombe served them as three more laborers entered. More blue smocks +gathered on the street corner and some pushed their way into the establishment. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re foolish! You only think of the present,” Gervaise was +saying to Coupeau. “Sure, I loved him, but after the disgusting way in +which he left me—” +</p> + +<p> +They were talking of Lantier. Gervaise had not seen him again; she thought he +was living with Virginie’s sister at La Glaciere, in the house of that +friend who was going to start a hat factory. She had no thought of running +after him. She had been so distressed at first that she had thought of drowning +herself in the river. But now that she had thought about it, everything seemed +to be for the best. Lantier went through money so fast, that she probably never +could have raised her children properly. Oh, she’d let him see his +children, all right, if he bothered to come round. But as far as she was +concerned, she didn’t want him to touch her, not even with his finger +tips. +</p> + +<p> +She told all this to Coupeau just as if her plan of life was well settled. +Meanwhile, Coupeau never forgot his desire to possess her. He made a jest of +everything she said, turning it into ribaldry and asking some very direct +questions about Lantier. But he proceeded so gaily and which such a smile that +she never thought of being offended. +</p> + +<p> +“So, you’re the one who beat him,” said he at length. +“Oh! you’re not kind. You just go around whipping people.” +</p> + +<p> +She interrupted him with a hearty laugh. It was true, though, she had whipped +Virginie’s tall carcass. She would have delighted in strangling someone +on that day. She laughed louder than ever when Coupeau told her that Virginie, +ashamed at having shown so much cowardice, had left the neighborhood. Her face, +however, preserved an expression of childish gentleness as she put out her +plump hands, insisting she wouldn’t even harm a fly. +</p> + +<p> +She began to tell Coupeau about her childhood at Plassans. She had never cared +overmuch for men; they had always bored her. She was fourteen when she got +involved with Lantier. She had thought it was nice because he said he was her +husband and she had enjoyed playing a housewife. She was too soft-hearted and +too weak. She always got passionately fond of people who caused her trouble +later. When she loved a man, she wasn’t thinking of having fun in the +present; she was dreaming about being happy and living together forever. +</p> + +<p> +And as Coupeau, with a chuckle, spoke of her two children, saying they +hadn’t come from under a bolster, she slapped his fingers; she added that +she was, no doubt made on the model of other women; women thought of their +home, slaved to keep the place clean and tidy, and went to bed too tired at +night not to go to sleep at once. Besides, she resembled her mother, a stout +laboring woman who died at her work and who had served as beast of burden to +old Macquart for more than twenty years. Her mother’s shoulders had been +heavy enough to smash through doors, but that didn’t prevent her from +being soft-hearted and madly attracted to people. And if she limped a little, +she no doubt owed that to the poor woman, whom old Macquart used to belabor +with blows. Her mother had told her about the times when Macquart came home +drunk and brutally bruised her. She had probably been born with her lame leg as +a result of one of those times. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! it’s scarcely anything, it’s hardly perceptible,” +said Coupeau gallantly. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head; she knew well enough that it could be seen; at forty she +would look broken in two. Then she added gently, with a slight laugh: +“It’s a funny fancy of yours to fall in love with a cripple.” +</p> + +<p> +With his elbows still on the table, he thrust his face closer to hers and began +complimenting her in rather dubious language as though to intoxicate her with +his words. But she kept shaking her head “no,” and didn’t +allow herself to be tempted although she was flattered by the tone of his +voice. While listening, she kept looking out the window, seeming to be +fascinated by the interesting crowd of people passing. +</p> + +<p> +The shops were now almost empty. The grocer removed his last panful of fried +potatoes from the stove. The sausage man arranged the dishes scattered on his +counter. Great bearded workmen were as playful as young boys, clumping along in +their hobnailed boots. Other workmen were smoking, staring up into the sky and +blinking their eyes. Factory bells began to ring in the distance, but the +workers, in no hurry, relit their pipes. Later, after being tempted by one +wineshop after another, they finally decided to return to their jobs, but were +still dragging their feet. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise amused herself by watching three workmen, a tall fellow and two short +ones who turned to look back every few yards; they ended by descending the +street, and came straight to Pere Colombe’s l’Assommoir. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well,” murmured she, “there’re three fellows who +don’t seem inclined for work!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why!” said Coupeau, “I know the tall one, it’s +My-Boots, a comrade of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +Pere Colombe’s l’Assommoir was now full. You had to shout to be +heard. Fists often pounded on the bar, causing the glasses to clink. Everyone +was standing, hands crossed over belly or held behind back. The drinking groups +crowded close to one another. Some groups, by the casks, had to wait a quarter +of an hour before being able to order their drinks of Pere Colombe. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo! It’s that aristocrat, Young Cassis!” cried My-Boots, +bringing his hand down roughly on Coupeau’s shoulder. “A fine +gentleman, who smokes paper, and wears shirts! So we want to do the grand with +our sweetheart; we stand her little treats!” +</p> + +<p> +“Shut up! Don’t bother me!” replied Coupeau, greatly annoyed. +</p> + +<p> +But the other added, with a chuckle, “Right you are! We know what’s +what, my boy. Muffs are muffs, that’s all!” +</p> + +<p> +He turned his back after leering terribly as he looked at Gervaise. The latter +drew back, feeling rather frightened. The smoke from the pipes, the strong odor +of all those men, ascended in the air, already foul with the fumes of alcohol; +and she felt a choking sensation in her throat, and coughed slightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what a horrible thing it is to drink!” said she in a low +voice. +</p> + +<p> +And she related that formerly at Plassans she used to drink anisette with her +mother. But on one occasion it nearly killed her, and that disgusted her with +it; now, she could never touch any liqueurs. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” added she, pointing to her glass, “I’ve +eaten my plum; only I must leave the juice, because it would make me +ill.” +</p> + +<p> +For himself, Coupeau couldn’t understand how anyone could drink glass +after glass of cheap brandy. A brandied plum occasionally could not hurt, but +as for cheap brandy, absinthe and the other strong stuff, no, not for him, no +matter how much his comrades teased him about it. He stayed out on the sidewalk +when his friends went into low establishments. Coupeau’s father had +smashed his head open one day when he fell from the eaves of No. 25 on Rue +Coquenard. He was drunk. This memory keeps Coupeau’s entire family from +the drink. Every time Coupeau passed that spot, he thought he would rather lick +up water from the gutter than accept a free drink in a bar. He would always +say: “In our trade, you have to have steady legs.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise had taken up her basket again. She did not rise from her seat however, +but held the basket on her knees, with a vacant look in her eyes and lost in +thought, as though the young workman’s words had awakened within her +far-off thoughts of existence. And she said again, slowly, and without any +apparent change of manner: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mon Dieu</i>! I’m not ambitious; I don’t ask for much. My +desire is to work in peace, always to have bread to eat and a decent place to +sleep in, you know; with a bed, a table, and two chairs, nothing more. If I +can, I’d like to raise my children to be good citizens. Also, I’d +like not to be beaten up, if I ever again live with a man. It’s not my +idea of amusement.” She pondered, thinking if there was anything else she +wanted, but there wasn’t anything of importance. Then, after a moment she +went on, “Yes, when one reaches the end, one might wish to die in +one’s bed. For myself, having trudged through life, I should like to die +in my bed, in my own home.” +</p> + +<p> +And she rose from her seat. Coupeau, who cordially approved her wishes, was +already standing up, anxious about the time. But they did not leave yet. +Gervaise was curious enough to go to the far end of the room for a look at the +big still behind the oak railing. It was chugging away in the little glassed-in +courtyard. Coupeau explained its workings to her, pointing at the different +parts of the machinery, showing her the trickling of the small stream of limpid +alcohol. Not a single gay puff of steam was coming forth from the endless +coils. The breathing could barely be heard. It sounded muffled as if from +underground. It was like a sombre worker, performing dark deeds in the bright +daylight, strong but silent. +</p> + +<p> +My-Boots, accompanied by his two comrades, came to lean on the railing until +they could get a place at the bar. He laughed, looking at the machine. +<i>Tonnerre de Dieu</i>, that’s clever. There’s enough stuff in its +big belly to last for weeks. He wouldn’t mind if they just fixed the end +of the tube in his mouth, so he could feel the fiery spirits flowing down to +his heels like a river. It would be better than the tiny sips doled out by Pere +Colombe! His two comrades laughed with him, saying that My-Boots was quite a +guy after all. +</p> + +<p> +The huge still continued to trickle forth its alcoholic sweat. Eventually it +would invade the bar, flow out along the outer Boulevards, and inundate the +immense expanse of Paris. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise stepped back, shivering. She tried to smile as she said: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s foolish, but that still and the liquor gives me the +creeps.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, returning to the idea she nursed of a perfect happiness, she resumed: +“Now, ain’t I right? It’s much the nicest isn’t +it—to have plenty of work, bread to eat, a home of one’s own, and +to be able to bring up one’s children and to die in one’s +bed?” +</p> + +<p> +“And never to be beaten,” added Coupeau gaily. “But I would +never beat you, if you would only try me, Madame Gervaise. You’ve no +cause for fear. I don’t drink and then I love you too much. Come, shall +it be marriage? I’ll get you divorced and make you my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +He was speaking low, whispering at the back of her neck while she made her way +through the crowd of men with her basket held before her. She kept shaking her +head “no.” Yet she turned around to smile at him, apparently happy +to know that he never drank. Yes, certainly, she would say “yes” to +him, except she had already sworn to herself never to start up with another +man. Eventually they reached the door and went out. +</p> + +<p> +When they left, l’Assommoir was packed to the door, spilling its hubbub +of rough voices and its heavy smell of vitriol into the street. My-Boots could +be heard railing at Pere Colombe, calling him a scoundrel and accusing him of +only half filling his glass. He didn’t have to come in here. He’d +never come back. He suggested to his comrades a place near the Barriere +Saint-Denis where you drank good stuff straight. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah,” sighed Gervaise when they reached the sidewalk. “You +can breathe out here. Good-bye, Monsieur Coupeau, and thank you. I must hurry +now.” +</p> + +<p> +He seized her hand as she started along the boulevard, insisting, “Take a +walk with me along Rue de la Goutte-d’Or. It’s not much farther for +you. I’ve got to see my sister before going back to work. We’ll +keep each other company.” +</p> + +<p> +In the end, Gervaise agreed and they walked beside each other along the Rue des +Poissonniers, although she did not take his arm. He told her about his family. +His mother, an old vest-maker, now had to do housekeeping because her eyesight +was poor. Her birthday was the third of last month and she was sixty-two. He +was the youngest. One of his sisters, a widow of thirty-six, worked in a flower +shop and lived in the Batignolles section, on Rue des Moines. The other sister +was thirty years old now. She had married a deadpan chainmaker named Lorilleux. +That’s where he was going now. They lived in a big tenement on the left +side. He ate with them in the evenings; it saved a bit for all of them. But he +had been invited out this evening and he was going to tell her not to expect +him. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, who was listening to him, suddenly interrupted him to ask, with a +smile: “So you’re called ‘Young Cassis,’ Monsieur +Coupeau?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” replied he, “it’s a nickname my mates have given +me because I generally drink ‘cassis’ when they force me to +accompany them to the wineshop. It’s no worse to be called Young Cassis +than My-Boots, is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course not. Young Cassis isn’t an ugly name,” observed +the young woman. +</p> + +<p> +And she questioned him about his work. He was still working there, behind the +octroi wall at the new hospital. Oh! there was no want of work, he would not be +finished there for a year at least. There were yards and yards of gutters! +</p> + +<p> +“You know,” said he, “I can see the Hotel Boncoeur when +I’m up there. Yesterday you were at the window, and I waved my arms, but +you didn’t notice me.” +</p> + +<p> +They had already gone about a hundred paces along the Rue de la +Goutte-d’Or, when he stood still and raising his eyes, said: +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the house. I was born farther on, at No. 22. But this house +is, all the same, a fine block of masonry! It’s as big as a barrack +inside!” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise looked up, examining the facade. On the street side, the tenement had +five stories, each with fifteen windows, whose black shutters with their broken +slats gave an air of desolation to the wide expanse of wall. Four shops +occupied the ground floor. To the right of the entrance, a large, greasy hash +house, and to the left, a coal dealer, a notions seller, and an umbrella +merchant. The building appeared even larger than it was because it had on each +side a small, low building which seemed to lean against it for support. This +immense, squared-off building was outlined against the sky. Its unplastered +side walls were as bare as prison walls, except for rows of roughly jutting +stones which suggested jaws full of decayed teeth yawning vacantly. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was gazing at the entrance with interest. The high, arched doorway +rose to the second floor and opened onto a deep porch, at the end of which +could be seen the pale daylight of a courtyard. This entranceway was paved like +the street, and down the center flowed a streamlet of pink-stained water. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in,” said Coupeau, “no one will eat you.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise wanted to wait for him in the street. However, she could not resist +going through the porch as far as the concierge’s room on the right. And +there, on the threshold, she raised her eyes. Inside, the building was six +stories high, with four identical plain walls enclosing the broad central +court. The drab walls were corroded by yellowish spots and streaked by +drippings from the roof gutters. The walls went straight up to the eaves with +no molding or ornament except the angles on the drain pipes at each floor. Here +the sink drains added their stains. The glass window panes resembled murky +water. Mattresses of checkered blue ticking were hanging out of several windows +to air. Clothes lines stretched from other windows with family washing hanging +to dry. On a third floor line was a baby’s diaper, still implanted with +filth. This crowded tenement was bursting at the seams, spilling out poverty +and misery through every crevice. +</p> + +<p> +Each of the four walls had, at ground level, a narrow entrance, plastered +without a trace of woodwork. This opened into a vestibule containing a +dirt-encrusted staircase which spiraled upward. They were each labeled with one +of the first four letters of the alphabet painted on the wall. +</p> + +<p> +Several large work-shops with weather-blackened skylights were scattered about +the court. Near the concierge’s room was the dyeing establishment +responsible for the pink streamlet. Puddles of water infested the courtyard, +along with wood shavings and coal cinders. Grass and weeds grew between the +paving stones. The unforgiving sunlight seemed to cut the court into two parts. +On the shady side was a dripping water tap with three small hens scratching for +worms with their filth-smeared claws. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise slowly gazed about, lowering her glance from the sixth floor to the +paving stones, then raising it again, surprised at the vastness, feeling as it +were in the midst of a living organ, in the very heart of a city, and +interested in the house, as though it were a giant before her. +</p> + +<p> +“Is madame seeking for any one?” called out the inquisitive +concierge, emerging from her room. +</p> + +<p> +The young woman explained that she was waiting for a friend. She returned to +the street; then as Coupeau did not come, she went back to the courtyard seized +with the desire to take another look. She did not think the house ugly. Amongst +the rags hanging from the windows she discovered various cheerful +touches—a wall-flower blooming in a pot, a cage of chirruping canaries, +shaving-glasses shining like stars in the depth of the shadow. A carpenter was +singing in his work-shop, accompanied by the whining of his plane. The +blacksmith’s hammers were ringing rhythmically. +</p> + +<p> +In contrast to the apparent wretched poverty, at nearly every open window +appeared the begrimed faces of laughing children. Women with peaceful faces +could be seen bent over their sewing. The rooms were empty of men who had gone +back to work after lunch. The whole tenement was tranquil except for the sounds +from the work-shops below which served as a sort of lullaby that went on, +unceasingly, always the same. +</p> + +<p> +The only thing she did not like was the courtyard’s dampness. She would +want rooms at the rear, on the sunny side. Gervaise took a few more steps into +the courtyard, inhaling the characteristic odor of the slums, comprised of dust +and rotten garbage. But the sharp odor of the waste water from the dye shop was +strong, and Gervaise thought it smelled better here than at the Hotel Boncoeur. +She chose a window for herself, the one at the far left with a small window box +planted with scarlet runners. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I’ve kept you waiting rather a long time,” +said Coupeau, whom she suddenly heard close beside her. “They always make +an awful fuss whenever I don’t dine with them, and it was worse than ever +to-day as my sister had bought some veal.” +</p> + +<p> +And as Gervaise had slightly started with surprise, he continued glancing +around in his turn: +</p> + +<p> +“You were looking at the house. It’s always all let from the top to +the bottom. There are three hundred lodgers, I think. If I had any furniture, I +would have secured a small room. One would be comfortable here, don’t you +think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, one would be comfortable,” murmured Gervaise. “In our +street at Plassans there weren’t near so many people. Look, that’s +pretty—that window up on the fifth floor, with the scarlet +runners.” +</p> + +<p> +The zinc-worker’s obstinate desire made him ask her once more whether she +would or she wouldn’t. They could rent a place here as soon as they found +a bed. She hurried out the arched entranceway, asking him not to start that +subject again. There was as much chance of this building collapsing as there +was of her sleeping under the same blanket with him. Still, when Coupeau left +her in front of Madame Fauconnier’s shop, he was allowed to hold her hand +for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +For a month the young woman and the zinc-worker were the best of friends. He +admired her courage, when he beheld her half killing herself with work, keeping +her children tidy and clean, and yet finding time at night to do a little +sewing. Often other women were hopelessly messy, forever nibbling or gadding +about, but she wasn’t like them at all. She was much too serious. Then +she would laugh, and modestly defend herself. It was her misfortune that she +had not always been good, having been with a man when only fourteen. Then too, +she had often helped her mother empty a bottle of anisette. But she had learned +a few things from experience. He was wrong to think of her as strong-willed; +her will power was very weak. She had always let herself be pushed into things +because she didn’t want to hurt someone’s feelings. Her one hope +now was to live among decent people, for living among bad people was like being +hit over the head. It cracks your skull. Whenever she thought of the future, +she shivered. Everything she had seen in life so far, especially when a child, +had given her lessons to remember. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau, however, chaffed her about her gloomy thoughts, and brought back all +her courage by trying to pinch her hips. She pushed him away from her, and +slapped his hands, whilst he called out laughingly that, for a weak woman, she +was not a very easy capture. He, who always joked about everything did not +trouble himself regarding the future. One day followed another, that was all. +There would always be somewhere to sleep and a bite to eat. The neighborhood +seemed decent enough to him, except for a gang of drunkards that ought to be +cleaned out of the gutters. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau was not a bad sort of fellow. He sometimes had really sensible things +to say. He was something of a dandy with his Parisian working man’s gift +for banter, a regular gift of gab, and besides, he was attractive. +</p> + +<p> +They had ended by rendering each other all sorts of services at the Hotel +Boncoeur. Coupeau fetched her milk, ran her errands, carried her bundles of +clothes; often of an evening, as he got home first from work, he took the +children for a walk on the exterior Boulevard. Gervaise, in return for his +polite attentions, would go up into the narrow room at the top of the house +where he slept, and see to his clothes, sewing buttons on his blue linen +trousers, and mending his linen jackets. A great familiarity existed between +them. She was never bored when he was around. The gay songs he sang amused her, +and so did his continuous banter of jokes and jibes characteristic of the Paris +streets, this being still new to her. +</p> + +<p> +On Coupeau’s side, this continual familiarity inflamed him more and more +until it began to seriously bother him. He began to feel tense and uneasy. He +continued with his foolish talk, never failing to ask her, “When will it +be?” She understood what he meant and teased him. He would then come to +visit her carrying his bedroom slippers, as if he were moving in. She joked +about it and continued calmly without blushing at the allusions with which he +was always surrounding her. She stood for anything from him as long as he +didn’t get rough. She only got angry once when he pulled a strand of her +hair while trying to force a kiss from her. +</p> + +<p> +Towards the end of June, Coupeau lost his liveliness. He became most peculiar. +Gervaise, feeling uneasy at some of his glances, barricaded herself in at +night. Then, after having sulked ever since the Sunday, he suddenly came on the +Tuesday night about eleven o’clock and knocked at her room. She would not +open to him; but his voice was so gentle and so trembling that she ended by +removing the chest of drawers she had pushed against the door. When he entered, +she thought he was ill; he looked so pale, his eyes were so red, and the veins +on his face were all swollen. And he stood there, stuttering and shaking his +head. No, no, he was not ill. He had been crying for two hours upstairs in his +room; he wept like a child, biting his pillow so as not to be heard by the +neighbors. For three nights past he had been unable to sleep. It could not go +on like that. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Madame Gervaise,” said he, with a swelling in his throat +and on the point of bursting out crying again; “we must end this, +mustn’t we? We’ll go and get married. It’s what I want. +I’ve quite made up my mind.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise showed great surprise. She was very grave. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Monsieur Coupeau,” murmured she, “whatever are you +thinking of? You know I’ve never asked you for that. I didn’t care +about it—that was all. Oh, no, no! it’s serious now; think of what +you’re saying, I beg of you.” +</p> + +<p> +But he continued to shake his head with an air of unalterable resolution. He +had already thought it all over. He had come down because he wanted to have a +good night. She wasn’t going to send him back to weep again he supposed! +As soon as she said “yes,” he would no longer bother her, and she +could go quietly to bed. He only wanted to hear her say “yes.” They +could talk it over on the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +“But I certainly can’t say ‘yes’ just like that,” +resumed Gervaise. “I don’t want you to be able to accuse me later +on of having incited you to do a foolish thing. You shouldn’t be so +insistent, Monsieur Coupeau. You can’t really be sure that you’re +in love with me. If you didn’t see me for a week, it might fade away. +Sometimes men get married and then there’s day after day, stretching out +into an entire lifetime, and they get pretty well bored by it all. Sit down +there; I’m willing to talk it over at once.” +</p> + +<p> +Then until one in the morning, in the dark room and by the faint light of a +smoky tallow candle which they forgot to snuff, they talked of their marriage, +lowering their voices so as not to wake the two children, Claude and Etienne, +who were sleeping, both heads on the same pillow. Gervaise kept pointing out +the children to Coupeau, what a funny kind of dowry they were. She really +shouldn’t burden him with them. Besides, what would the neighbors say? +She’d feel ashamed for him because everyone knew about the story of her +life and her lover. They wouldn’t think it decent if they saw them +getting married barely two months later. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau replied by shrugging his shoulders. He didn’t care about the +neighbors! He never bothered about their affairs. So, there was Lantier before +him, well, so what? What’s so bad about that? She hadn’t been +constantly bringing men upstairs, as some women did, even rich ladies! The +children would grow up, they’d raise them right. Never had he known +before such a woman, such sound character, so good-hearted. Anyway, she could +have been anything, a streetwalker, ugly, lazy and good-for-nothing, with a +whole gang of dirty kids, and so what? He wanted her. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I want you,” he repeated, bringing his hand down on his knee +with a continuos hammering. “You understand, I want you. There’s +nothing to be said to that, is there?” +</p> + +<p> +Little by little, Gervaise gave way. Her emotions began to take control when +faced with his encompassing desire. Still, with her hands in her lap and her +face suffused with a soft sweetness, she hesitantly offered objections. From +outside, through the half-open window, a lovely June night breathed in puffs of +sultry air, disturbing the candle with its long wick gleaming red like a +glowing coal. In the deep silence of the sleeping neighborhood the only sound +was the infantile weeping of a drunkard lying in the middle of the street. Far +away, in the back room of some restaurant, a violin was playing a dance tune +for some late party. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau was silent. Then, knowing she had no more arguments, he smiled, took +hold of her hands and pulled her toward him. She was in one of those moments of +weakness she so greatly mistrusted, persuaded at last, too emotionally stirred +to refuse anything or to hurt anyone’s feelings. Coupeau didn’t +realize that she was giving way. He held her wrists so tightly as to almost +crush them. Together they breathed a long sigh that to both of them meant a +partial satisfaction of their desire. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll say ‘yes,’ won’t you,” asked he. +</p> + +<p> +“How you worry me!” she murmured. “You wish it? Well then, +‘yes.’ Ah! we’re perhaps doing a very foolish thing.” +</p> + +<p> +He jumped up, and, seizing her round the waist, kissed her roughly on the face, +at random. Then, as this caress caused a noise, he became anxious, and went +softly and looked at Claude and Etienne. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush, we must be careful,” said he in a whisper, “and not +wake the children. Good-bye till to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +And he went back to his room. Gervaise, all in a tremble, remained seated on +the edge of her bed, without thinking of undressing herself for nearly an hour. +She was touched; she felt that Coupeau was very honorable; for at one moment +she had really thought it was all over, and that he would forget her. The +drunkard below, under the window, was now hoarsely uttering the plaintive cry +of some lost animal. The violin in the distance had left off its saucy tune and +was now silent. +</p> + +<p> +During the following days Coupeau sought to get Gervaise to call some evening +on his sister in the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or; but the young woman, who was +very timid, showed a great dread of this visit to the Lorilleux. She knew that +Coupeau had a lingering fear of that household, even though he certainly +wasn’t dependent on his sister, who wasn’t even the oldest of the +family. Mamma Coupeau would certainly give her consent at once, as she never +refused her only son anything. The thing was that the Lorilleuxs were supposed +to be earning ten francs a day or more and that gave them a certain authority. +Coupeau would never dare to get married unless his wife was acceptable to them. +</p> + +<p> +“I have spoken to them of you, they know our plans,” explained he +to Gervaise. “Come now! What a child you are! Let’s call on them +this evening. I’ve warned you, haven’t I? You’ll find my +sister rather stiff. Lorilleux, too, isn’t always very amiable. In +reality they are greatly annoyed, because if I marry, I shall no longer take my +meals with them, and it’ll be an economy the less. But that doesn’t +matter, they won’t turn you out. Do this for me, it’s absolutely +necessary.” +</p> + +<p> +These words only frightened Gervaise the more. One Saturday evening, however, +she gave in. Coupeau came for her at half-past eight. She had dressed herself +in a black dress, a crape shawl with yellow palms, and a white cap trimmed with +a little cheap lace. During the six weeks she had been working, she had saved +the seven francs for the shawl, and the two and a half francs for the cap; the +dress was an old one cleaned and made up afresh. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re expecting you,” said Coupeau to her, as they went +round by the Rue des Poissonniers. “Oh! they’re beginning to get +used to the idea of my being married. They seem nice indeed, to-night. And you +know if you’ve never seen gold chains made, it’ll amuse you to +watch them. They just happen to have a pressing order for Monday.” +</p> + +<p> +“They’ve got gold in their room?” asked Gervaise. +</p> + +<p> +“I should think so; there’s some on the walls, on the floor, in +fact everywhere.” +</p> + +<p> +They had passed the arched doorway and crossed the courtyard. The Lorilleuxs +lived on the sixth floor, staircase B. Coupeau laughingly told her to hold the +hand-rail tight and not to leave go of it. She looked up, and blinked her eyes, +as she perceived the tall hollow tower of the staircase, lighted by three gas +jets, one on every second landing; the last one, right up at the top looked +like a star twinkling in a black sky, whilst the other two cast long flashes of +light, of fantastic shapes, among the interminable windings of the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove!” said the zinc-worker as he reached the first floor, +smiling, “there’s a strong smell of onion soup. Someone’s +having onion soup, I’m sure.” +</p> + +<p> +Staircase B, with its gray, dirty steps and hand-rail, its scratched walls and +chipped plaster, was full of strong kitchen odors. Long corridors, echoing with +noise, led away from each landing. Doors, painted yellow, gaped open, smeared +black around the latch from dirty hands. A sink on each landing gave forth a +fetid humidity, adding its stench to the sharp flavor of the cooking of onions. +From the basement, all the way to the sixth floor, you could hear dishes +clattering, saucepans being rinsed, pots being scraped and scoured. +</p> + +<p> +On the first floor Gervaise saw a half-opened door with the word +“Designer” written on it in large letters. Inside were two men +sitting by a table, the dishes cleared away from its oilcloth cover, arguing +furiously amid a cloud of pipe smoke. The second and third floors were quieter, +and through cracks in the woodwork only such sounds filtered as the rhythm of a +cradle rocking, the stifled crying of a child, a woman’s voice sounding +like the dull murmur of running water with no words distinct. Gervaise read the +various signs on the doors giving the names of the occupants: “Madame +Gaudron, wool-carder” and “Monsieur Madinier, cardboard +boxes.” There was a fight in progress on the fourth floor: a stomping of +feet that shook the floor, furniture banged around, a racket of curses and +blows; but this did not bother the neighbors opposite, who were playing cards +with their door opened wide to admit more air. +</p> + +<p> +When Gervaise reached the fifth floor, she had to stop to take a breath; she +was not used to going up so high; that wall for ever turning, the glimpses she +had of the lodgings following each other, made her head ache. Anyway, there was +a family almost blocking the landing: the father washing the dishes over a +small earthenware stove near the sink and the mother sitting with her back to +the stair-rail and cleaning the baby before putting it to bed. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau kept urging Gervaise along, and they finally reached the sixth floor. +He encouraged her with a smile; they had arrived! She had been hearing a voice +all the way up from the bottom and she was gazing upward, wondering where it +could be coming from, a voice so clear and piercing that it had dominated all +the other sounds. It came from a little old woman in an attic room who sang +while putting dresses on cheap dolls. When a tall girl came by with a pail of +water and entered a nearby apartment, Gervaise saw a tumbled bed on which a man +was sprawled, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. As the door closed behind her, +Gervaise saw the hand-written card: “Mademoiselle Clemence, +ironing.” +</p> + +<p> +Now that she had finally made it to the top, her legs weary and her breath +short, Gervaise leaned over the railing to look down. Now it was the gaslight +on the first floor which seemed a distant star at the bottom of a narrow well +six stories deep. All the odors and all the murmurings of the immense variety +of life within the tenement came up to her in one stifling breath that flushed +her face as she hazarded a worried glance down into the gulf below. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re not there yet,” said Coupeau. “Oh! It’s +quite a journey!” +</p> + +<p> +He had gone down a long corridor on the left. He turned twice, the first time +also to the left, the second time to the right. The corridor still continued +branching off, narrowing between walls full of crevices, with plaster peeling +off, and lighted at distant intervals by a slender gas-jet; and the doors all +alike, succeeded each other the same as the doors of a prison or a convent, and +nearly all open, continued to display homes of misery and work, which the hot +June evening filled with a reddish mist. At length they reached a small passage +in complete darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re here,” resumed the zinc-worker. “Be careful, +keep to the wall; there are three steps.” +</p> + +<p> +And Gervaise carefully took another ten steps in the obscurity. She stumbled +and then counted the three steps. But at the end of the passage Coupeau had +opened a door, without knocking. A brilliant light spread over the tiled floor. +They entered. +</p> + +<p> +It was a narrow apartment, and seemed as if it were the continuation of the +corridor. A faded woolen curtain, raised up just then by a string, divided the +place in two. The first part contained a bedstead pushed beneath an angle of +the attic ceiling, a cast-iron stove still warm from the cooking of the dinner, +two chairs, a table and a wardrobe, the cornice of which had had to be sawn off +to make it fit in between the door and the bedstead. The second part was fitted +up as a work-shop; at the end, a narrow forge with its bellows; to the right, a +vise fixed to the wall beneath some shelves on which pieces of old iron lay +scattered; to the left near the window, a small workman’s bench, +encumbered with greasy and very dirty pliers, shears and microscopical saws, +all very dirty and grimy. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s us!” cried Coupeau advancing as far as the woolen +curtain. +</p> + +<p> +But no one answered at first. Gervaise, deeply affected, moved especially by +the thought that she was about to enter a place full of gold, stood behind the +zinc-worker, stammering and venturing upon nods of her head by way of bowing. +The brilliant light, a lamp burning on the bench, a brazier full of coals +flaring in the forge, increased her confusion still more. She ended however, by +distinguishing Madame Lorilleux—little, red-haired and tolerably strong, +pulling with all the strength of her short arms, and with the assistance of a +big pair of pincers, a thread of black metal which she passed through the holes +of a draw-plate fixed to the vise. Seated in front of the bench, Lorilleux, +quite as small of stature, but more slender in the shoulders, worked with the +tips of his pliers, with the vivacity of a monkey, at a labor so minute, that +it was impossible to follow it between his scraggy fingers. It was the husband +who first raised his head—a head with scanty locks, the face of the +yellow tinge of old wax, long, and with an ailing expression. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! it’s you; well, well!” murmured he. “We’re +in a hurry you know. Don’t come into the work-room, you’d be in our +way. Stay in the bedroom.” +</p> + +<p> +And he resumed his minute task, his face again in the reflection of a glass +globe full of green-colored water, through which the lamp shed a circle of +bright light over his work. +</p> + +<p> +“Take the chairs!” called out Madame Lorilleux in her turn. +“It’s that lady, isn’t it? Very well, very well!” +</p> + +<p> +She had rolled the wire and she carried it to the forge, and then, reviving the +fire of the brazier with a large wooden fan, she proceeded to temper the wire +before passing it through the last holes of the draw-plate. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau moved the chairs forward and seated Gervaise by the curtain. The room +was so narrow that he could not sit beside her, so he sat behind her, leaning +over her shoulder to explain the work in progress. Gervaise was intimidated by +this strange reception and felt uneasy. She had a buzzing in her ears and +couldn’t hear clearly. She thought the wife looked older than her thirty +years and not very neat with her hair in a pigtail dangling down the back of +her loosely worn wrapper. The husband, who was only a year older, appeared +already an old man with mean, thin lips, as he sat there working in his shirt +sleeves with his bare feet thrust into down at the heel slippers. Gervaise was +dismayed by the smallness of the shop, the grimy walls, the rustiness of the +tools, and the black soot spread all over what looked like the odds and ends of +a scrap-iron peddler’s wares. +</p> + +<p> +“And the gold?” asked Gervaise in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +Her anxious glances searched the corners and sought amongst all that filth for +the resplendence she had dreamt of. But Coupeau burst out laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Gold?” said he; “why there’s some; there’s some +more, and there’s some at your feet!” +</p> + +<p> +He pointed successively to the fine wire at which his sister was working, and +to another roll of wire, similar to the ordinary iron wire, hanging against the +wall close to the vise; then going down on all fours, he picked up, beneath the +wooden screen which covered the tiled floor of the work-room, a piece of waste, +a tiny fragment resembling the point of a rusty needle. But Gervaise protested; +that couldn’t be gold, that blackish piece of metal as ugly as iron! He +had to bite into the piece and show her the gleaming notch made by his teeth. +Then he continued his explanations: the employers provided the gold wire, +already alloyed; the craftsmen first pulled it through the draw-plate to obtain +the correct size, being careful to anneal it five or six times to keep it from +breaking. It required a steady, strong hand, and plenty of practice. His sister +would not let her husband touch the wire-drawing since he was subject to +coughing spells. She had strong arms for it; he had seen her draw gold to the +fineness of a hair. +</p> + +<p> +Lorilleux, seized with a fit of coughing, almost doubled up on his stool. In +the midst of the paroxysm, he spoke, and said in a choking voice, still without +looking at Gervaise, as though he was merely mentioning the thing to himself: +</p> + +<p> +“I’m making the herring-bone chain.” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau urged Gervaise to get up. She might draw nearer and see. The chainmaker +consented with a grunt. He wound the wire prepared by his wife round a mandrel, +a very thin steel rod. Then he sawed gently, cutting the wire the whole length +of the mandrel, each turn forming a link, which he soldered. The links were +laid on a large piece of charcoal. He wetted them with a drop of borax, taken +from the bottom of a broken glass beside him; and he made them red-hot at the +lamp beneath the horizontal flame produced by the blow-pipe. Then, when he had +soldered about a hundred links he returned once more to his minute work, +propping his hands against the edge of the <i>cheville</i>, a small piece of +board which the friction of his hands had polished. He bent each link almost +double with the pliers, squeezed one end close, inserted it in the last link +already in place and then, with the aid of a point opened out again the end he +had squeezed; and he did this with a continuous regularity, the links joining +each other so rapidly that the chain gradually grew beneath Gervaise’s +gaze, without her being able to follow, or well understand how it was done. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the herring-bone chain,” said Coupeau. +“There’s also the long link, the cable, the plain ring, and the +spiral. But that’s the herring-bone. Lorilleux only makes the +herring-bone chain.” +</p> + +<p> +The latter chuckled with satisfaction. He exclaimed, as he continued squeezing +the links, invisible between his black finger-nails. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen to me, Young Cassis! I was making a calculation this morning. I +commenced work when I was twelve years old, you know. Well! Can you guess how +long a herring-bone chain I must have made up till to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +He raised his pale face, and blinked his red eye-lids. +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-six thousand feet, do you hear? Two leagues! That’s +something! A herring-bone chain two leagues long! It’s enough to twist +round the necks of all the women of the neighborhood. And you know, it’s +still increasing. I hope to make it long enough to reach from Paris to +Versailles.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise had returned to her seat, disenchanted and thinking everything very +ugly. She smiled to be polite to the Lorilleuxs. The complete silence about her +marriage bothered her. It was the sole reason for her having come. The +Lorilleuxs were treating her as some stranger brought in by Coupeau. When a +conversation finally did get started, it concerned the building’s +tenants. Madame Lorilleux asked her husband if he had heard the people on the +fourth floor having a fight. They fought every day. The husband usually came +home drunk and the wife had her faults too, yelling in the filthiest language. +Then they spoke of the designer on the first floor, an uppity show-off with a +mound of debts, always smoking, always arguing loudly with his friends. +Monsieur Madinier’s cardboard business was barely surviving. He had let +two girl workers go yesterday. The business ate up all his money, leaving his +children to run around in rags. And that Madame Gaudron was pregnant again; +this was almost indecent at her age. The landlord was going to evict the +Coquets on the fifth floor. They owed nine months’ rent, and besides, +they insisted on lighting their stove out on the landing. Last Saturday the old +lady on the sixth floor, Mademoiselle Remanjou, had arrived just in time to +save the Linguerlot child from being badly burned. Mademoiselle Clemence, one +who took in ironing, well, she lived life as she pleased. She was so kind to +animals though and had such a good heart that you couldn’t say anything +against her. It was a pity, a fine girl like her, the company she kept. +She’d be walking the streets before long. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, here’s one,” said Lorilleux to his wife, giving her +the piece of chain he had been working on since his lunch. “You can trim +it.” And he added, with the persistence of a man who does not easily +relinquish a joke: “Another four feet and a half. That brings me nearer +to Versailles.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lorilleux, after tempering it again, trimmed it by passing it through +the regulating draw-plate. Then she put it in a little copper saucepan with a +long handle, full of lye-water, and placed it over the fire of the forge. +Gervaise, again pushed forward by Coupeau, had to follow this last operation. +When the chain was thoroughly cleansed, it appeared a dull red color. It was +finished, and ready to be delivered. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re always delivered like that, in their rough state,” +the zinc-worker explained. “The polishers rub them afterwards with +cloths.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise felt her courage failing her. The heat, more and more intense, was +suffocating her. They kept the door shut, because Lorilleux caught cold from +the least draught. Then as they still did not speak of the marriage, she wanted +to go away and gently pulled Coupeau’s jacket. He understood. Besides, he +also was beginning to feel ill at ease and vexed at their affectation of +silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, we’re off,” said he. “We mustn’t keep you +from your work.” +</p> + +<p> +He moved about for a moment, waiting, hoping for a word or some allusion or +other. At length he decided to broach the subject himself. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Lorilleux, we’re counting on you to be my wife’s +witness.” +</p> + +<p> +The chainmaker pretended, with a chuckle, to be greatly surprised; whilst his +wife, leaving her draw-plates, placed herself in the middle of the work-room. +</p> + +<p> +“So it’s serious then?” murmured he. “That confounded +Young Cassis, one never knows whether he is joking or not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! yes, madame’s the person involved,” said the wife in her +turn, as she stared rudely at Gervaise. “<i>Mon Dieu!</i> We’ve no +advice to give you, we haven’t. It’s a funny idea to go and get +married, all the same. Anyhow, it’s your own wish. When it doesn’t +succeed, one’s only got oneself to blame, that’s all. And it +doesn’t often succeed, not often, not often.” +</p> + +<p> +She uttered these last words slower and slower, and shaking her head, she +looked from the young woman’s face to her hands, and then to her feet as +though she had wished to undress her and see the very pores of her skin. She +must have found her better than she expected. +</p> + +<p> +“My brother is perfectly free,” she continued more stiffly. +“No doubt the family might have wished—one always makes projects. +But things take such funny turns. For myself, I don’t want to have any +unpleasantness. Had he brought us the lowest of the low, I should merely have +said: ‘Marry her and go to blazes!’ He was not badly off though, +here with us. He’s fat enough; one can very well see he didn’t fast +much; and he always found his soup hot right on time. I say, Lorilleux, +don’t you think madame’s like Therese—you know who I mean, +that woman who used to live opposite, and who died of consumption?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, there’s a certain resemblance,” replied the chainmaker. +</p> + +<p> +“And you’ve got two children, madame? Now, I must admit I said to +my brother: ‘I can’t understand how you can want to marry a woman +who’s got two children.’ You mustn’t be offended if I consult +his interests; its only natural. You don’t look strong either. +Don’t you think, Lorilleux, that madame doesn’t look very +strong?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, she’s not strong.” +</p> + +<p> +They did not mention her leg; but Gervaise understood by their side glances, +and the curling of their lips, that they were alluding to it. She stood before +them, wrapped in her thin shawl with the yellow palms, replying in +monosyllables, as though in the presence of her judges. Coupeau, seeing she was +suffering, ended by exclaiming: +</p> + +<p> +“All that’s nothing to do with it. What you are talking about +isn’t important. The wedding will take place on Saturday, July 29. I +calculated by the almanac. Is it settled? Does it suit you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s all the same to us,” said his sister. “There +was no necessity to consult us. I shan’t prevent Lorilleux being witness. +I only want peace and quiet.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, hanging her head, not knowing what to do with herself had put the toe +of her boot through one of the openings in the wooden screen which covered the +tiled floor of the work-room; then afraid of having disturbed something when +she had withdrawn it, she stooped down and felt about with her hand. Lorilleux +hastily brought the lamp, and he examined her fingers suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +“You must be careful,” said he, “the tiny bits of gold stick +to the shoes, and get carried away without one knowing it.” +</p> + +<p> +It was all to do with business. The employers didn’t allow a single speck +for waste. He showed her the rabbit’s foot he used to brush off any +flecks of gold left on the <i>cheville</i> and the leather he kept on his lap +to catch any gold that fell. Twice weekly the shop was swept out carefully, the +sweepings collected and burned and the ashes sifted. This recovered up to +twenty-five or thirty francs’ worth of gold a month. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lorilleux could not take her eyes from Gervaise’s shoes. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no reason to get angry,” murmured she with an +amiable smile. “But, perhaps madame would not mind looking at the soles +of her shoes.” +</p> + +<p> +And Gervaise, turning very red, sat down again, and holding up her feet showed +that there was nothing clinging to them. Coupeau had opened the door, +exclaiming: “Good-night!” in an abrupt tone of voice. He called to +her from the corridor. Then she in her turn went off, after stammering a few +polite words: she hoped to see them again, and that they would all agree well +together. Both of the Lorilleux had already gone back to their work at the far +end of their dark hole of a work-room. Madame Lorilleux, her skin reflecting +the red glow from the bed of coals, was drawing on another wire, each effort +swelling her neck and making the strained muscles stand out like taut cords. +Her husband, hunched over beneath the greenish gleam of the globe was starting +another length of chain, twisting each link with his pliers, pressing it on one +side, inserting it into the next link above, opening it again with the pointed +tool, continuously, mechanically, not wasting a motion, even to wipe the sweat +from his face. +</p> + +<p> +When Gervaise emerged from the corridor on to the landing, she could not help +saying, with tears in her eyes: +</p> + +<p> +“That doesn’t promise much happiness.” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau shook his head furiously. He would get even with Lorilleux for that +evening. Had anyone ever seen such a miserly fellow? To think that they were +going to walk off with two or three grains of his gold dust! All the fuss they +made was from pure avarice. His sister thought perhaps that he would never +marry, so as to enable her to economize four sous on her dinner every day. +However, it would take place all the same on July 29. He did not care a hang +for them! +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, Gervaise still felt depressed. Tormented by a foolish +fearfulness, she peered anxiously into every dark shadow along the stair-rail +as she descended. It was dark and deserted at this hour, lit only by a single +gas jet on the second floor. In the shadowy depths of the dark pit, it gave a +spot of brightness, even with its flame turned so low. It was now silent behind +the closed doors; the weary laborers had gone to sleep after eating. However, +there was a soft laugh from Mademoiselle Clemence’s room and a ray of +light shone through the keyhole of Mademoiselle Remanjou’s door. She was +still busy cutting out dresses for the dolls. Downstairs at Madame +Gaudron’s, a child was crying. The sinks on the landings smelled more +offensive than ever in the midst of the darkness and stillness. +</p> + +<p> +In the courtyard, Gervaise turned back for a last look at the tenement as +Coupeau called out to the concierge. The building seemed to have grown larger +under the moonless sky. The drip-drip of water from the faucet sounded loud in +the quiet. Gervaise felt that the building was threatening to suffocate her and +a chill went through her body. It was a childish fear and she smiled at it a +moment later. +</p> + +<p> +“Watch your step,” warned Coupeau. +</p> + +<p> +To get to the entrance, Gervaise had to jump over a wide puddle that had +drained from the dye shop. The puddle was blue now, the deep blue of a summer +sky. The reflections from the night light of the concierge sparkled in it like +stars. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"></a> +CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<p> +Gervaise did not want to have a wedding-party! What was the use of spending +money? Besides, she still felt somewhat ashamed; it seemed to her quite +unnecessary to parade the marriage before the whole neighborhood. But Coupeau +cried out at that. One could not be married without having a feed. He did not +care a button for the people of the neighborhood! Nothing elaborate, just a +short walk and a rabbit ragout in the first eating-house they fancied. No music +with dessert. Just a glass or two and then back home. +</p> + +<p> +The zinc-worker, chaffing and joking, at length got the young woman to consent +by promising her that there should be no larks. He would keep his eye on the +glasses, to prevent sunstrokes. Then he organized a sort of picnic at five +francs a head, at the “Silver Windmill,” kept by Auguste, on the +Boulevard de la Chapelle. It was a small cafe with moderate charges and had a +dancing place in the rear, beneath the three acacias in the courtyard. They +would be very comfortable on the first floor. During the next ten days, he got +hold of guests in the house where his sister lived in the Rue de la +Goutte-d’Or—Monsieur Madinier, Mademoiselle Remanjou, Madame +Gaudron and her husband. He even ended by getting Gervaise to consent to the +presence of two of his comrades—Bibi-the-Smoker and My-Boots. No doubt +My-Boots was a boozer; but then he had such a fantastic appetite that he was +always asked to join those sort of gatherings, just for the sight of the +caterer’s mug when he beheld that bottomless pit swallowing his twelve +pounds of bread. The young woman on her side, promised to bring her employer +Madame Fauconnier and the Boches, some very agreeable people. On counting, they +found there would be fifteen to sit down to table, which was quite enough. When +there are too many, they always wind up by quarrelling. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau however, had no money. Without wishing to show off, he intended to +behave handsomely. He borrowed fifty francs of his employer. Out of that, he +first of all purchased the wedding-ring—a twelve franc gold wedding-ring, +which Lorilleux procured for him at the wholesale price of nine francs. He then +bought himself a frock coat, a pair of trousers and a waistcoat at a +tailor’s in the Rue Myrrha, to whom he gave merely twenty-five francs on +account; his patent leather shoes and his hat were still good enough. When he +had put by the ten francs for his and Gervaise’s share of the +feast—the two children not being charged for—he had exactly six +francs left—the price of a low mass at the altar of the poor. He had no +liking for those black crows, the priests. It would gripe him to pay his last +six francs to keep their whistles wet; however, a marriage without a mass +wasn’t a real marriage at all. +</p> + +<p> +Going to the church himself, he bargained for a whole hour with a little old +priest in a dirty cassock who was as sharp at dealing as a push-cart peddler. +Coupeau felt like boxing his ears. For a joke, he asked the priest if he +didn’t have a second-hand mass that would do for a modest young couple. +The priest, mumbling that God would take small pleasure in blessing their +union, finally let him have his mass for five francs. Well after all, that +meant twenty sous saved. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise also wanted to look decent. As soon as the marriage was settled, she +made her arrangements, worked extra time in the evenings, and managed to put +thirty francs on one side. She had a great longing for a little silk mantle +marked thirteen francs in the Rue du Faubourg Poissonniere. She treated herself +to it, and then bought for ten francs off the husband of a washerwoman who had +died in Madame Fauconnier’s house a blue woolen dress, which she altered +to fit herself. With the seven francs remaining she procured a pair of cotton +gloves, a rose for her cap, and some shoes for Claude, her eldest boy. +Fortunately the youngsters’ blouses were passable. She spent four nights +cleaning everything, and mending the smallest holes in her stockings and +chemise. +</p> + +<p> +On Friday night, the eve of the great day, Gervaise and Coupeau had still a +good deal of running about to do up till eleven o’clock, after returning +home from work. Then before separating for the night they spent an hour +together in the young woman’s room, happy at being about to be released +from their awkward position. In spite of the fact that they had originally +resolved not to put themselves out to impress the neighbors, they had ended by +taking it seriously and working themselves till they were weary. By the time +they said “Good-night,” they were almost asleep on their feet. They +breathed a great sigh of relief now that everything was ready. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau’s witnesses were to be Monsieur Madinier and Bibi-the-Smoker. +They were counting on Lorilleux and Boche for Gervaise’s witnesses. They +were to go quietly to the mayor’s office and the church, just the six of +them, without a whole procession of people trailing behind them. The +bridegroom’s two sisters had even declared that they would stay home, +their presence not being necessary. Coupeau’s mother, however, had sobbed +and wailed, threatening to go ahead of them and hide herself in some corner of +the church, until they had promised to take her along. The meeting of the +guests was set for one o’clock at the Silver Windmill. From there, they +would go to Saint-Denis, going out by railroad and returning on foot along the +highway in order to work up an appetite. The party promised to be quite all +right. +</p> + +<p> +Saturday morning, while getting dressed, Coupeau felt a qualm of uneasiness in +view of the single franc in his pocket. He began to think that it was a matter +of ordinary courtesy to offer a glass of wine and a slice of ham to the +witnesses while awaiting dinner. Also, there might be unforeseen expenses. So, +after taking Claude and Etienne to stay with Madame Boche, who was to bring +them to the dinner later that afternoon, he hurried over to the Rue de la +Goutte-d’Or to borrow ten francs from Lorilleux. Having to do that griped +him immensely as he could guess the attitude his brother-in-law would take. The +latter did grumble a bit, but ended by lending him two five-franc pieces. +However, Coupeau overheard his sister muttering under her breath, “This +is a fine beginning.” +</p> + +<p> +The ceremony at the mayor’s was to take place at half-past ten. It was +beautiful weather—a magnificent sun seemed to roast the streets. So as +not to be stared at the bride and bridegroom, the old mother, and the four +witnesses separated into two bands. Gervaise walked in front with Lorilleux, +who gave her his arm; whilst Monsieur Madinier followed with mother Coupeau. +Then, twenty steps behind on the opposite side of the way, came Coupeau, Boche, +and Bibi-the-Smoker. These three were in black frock coats, walking erect and +swinging their arms. Boche’s trousers were bright yellow. Bibi-the-Smoker +didn’t have a waistcoat so he was buttoned up to the neck with only a bit +of his cravat showing. The only one in a full dress suit was Monsieur Madinier +and passers-by gazed at this well-dressed gentleman escorting the huge bulk of +mother Coupeau in her green shawl and black bonnet with red ribbons. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise looked very gay and sweet in her dress of vivid blue and with her new +silk mantle fitted tightly to her shoulders. She listened politely to the +sneering remarks of Lorilleux, who seemed buried in the depths of the immense +overcoat he was wearing. From time to time, Gervaise would turn her head a +little to smile brightly at Coupeau, who was rather uncomfortable under the hot +sun in his new clothes. +</p> + +<p> +Though they walked very slowly, they arrived at the mayor’s quite half an +hour too soon. And as the mayor was late, their turn was not reached till close +upon eleven o’clock. They sat down on some chairs and waited in a corner +of the apartment, looking by turns at the high ceiling and bare walls, talking +low, and over-politely pushing back their chairs each time that one of the +attendants passed. Yet among themselves they called the mayor a sluggard, +saying he must be visiting his blonde to get a massage for his gout, or that +maybe he’d swallowed his official sash. +</p> + +<p> +However, when the mayor did put in his appearance, they rose respectfully in +his honor. They were asked to sit down again and they had to wait through three +other marriages. The hall was crowded with the three bourgeois wedding parties: +brides all in white, little girls with carefully curled hair, bridesmaids +wearing wide sashes, an endless procession of ladies and gentlemen dressed in +their best and looking very stylish. +</p> + +<p> +When at length they were called, they almost missed being married altogether, +Bibi-the-Smoker having disappeared. Boche discovered him outside smoking his +pipe. Well! They were a nice lot inside there to humbug people about like that, +just because one hadn’t yellow kid gloves to shove under their noses! And +the various formalities—the reading of the Code, the different questions +to be put, the signing of all the documents—were all got through so +rapidly that they looked at each other with an idea that they had been robbed +of a good half of the ceremony. Gervaise, dizzy, her heart full, pressed her +handkerchief to her lips. Mother Coupeau wept bitterly. All had signed the +register, writing their names in big struggling letters with the exception of +the bridegroom, who not being able to write, had put his cross. They each gave +four sous for the poor. When an attendant handed Coupeau the marriage +certificate, the latter, prompted by Gervaise who nudged his elbow, handed him +another five sous. +</p> + +<p> +It was a fair walk from the mayor’s office in the town hall to the +church. The men stopped along the way to have a beer. Mother Coupeau and +Gervaise took cassis with water. Then they had to trudge along the long street +where the sun glared straight down without the relief of shade. +</p> + +<p> +When they arrived at the church they were hurried along and asked if they came +so late in order to make a mockery of religion. A priest came forward, his face +pale and resentful from having to delay his lunch. An altar boy in a soiled +surplice ran before him. +</p> + +<p> +The mass went very fast, with the priest turning, bowing his head, spreading +out his arms, making all the ritual gestures in haste while casting sidelong +glances at the group. Gervaise and Coupeau, before the altar, were embarrassed, +not knowing when they should kneel or rise or seat themselves, expecting some +indication from the attendant. The witnesses, not knowing what was proper, +remained standing during the ceremony. Mother Coupeau was weeping again and +shedding her tears into the missal she had borrowed from a neighbor. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, the noon chimes had sounded and the church began to fill with noise +from the shuffling feet of sacristans and the clatter of chairs being put back +in place. The high altar was apparently being prepared for some special +ceremony. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, in the depths of this obscure chapel, amid the floating dust, the surly +priest placed his withered hands on the bared heads of Gervaise and Coupeau, +blessing their union amid a hubbub like that of moving day. The wedding party +signed another registry, this time in the sacristy, and then found themselves +out in the bright sunlight before the church doors where they stood for a +moment, breathless and confused from having been carried along at such a +break-neck speed. +</p> + +<p> +“Voila!” said Coupeau with an embarrassed laugh. “Well, it +sure didn’t take long. They shove it at you so; it’s like being at +the painless dentist’s who doesn’t give you time to cry out. Here +you get a painless wedding!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s a quick job,” Lorilleux smirked. “In five +minutes you’re tied together for the rest of your life. You poor Young +Cassis, you’ve had it.” +</p> + +<p> +The four witnesses whacked Coupeau on the shoulders as he arched his back +against the friendly blows. Meanwhile Gervaise was hugging and kissing mother +Coupeau, her eyes moist, a smile lighting her face. She replied reassuringly to +the old woman’s sobbing: “Don’t worry, I’ll do my best. +I want so much to have a happy life. If it doesn’t work out it +won’t be my fault. Anyhow, it’s done now. It’s up to us to +get along together and do the best we can for each other.” +</p> + +<p> +After that they went straight to the Silver Windmill. Coupeau had taken his +wife’s arm. They walked quickly, laughing as though carried away, quite +two hundred steps ahead of the others, without noticing the houses or the +passers-by, or the vehicles. The deafening noises of the faubourg sounded like +bells in their ears. When they reached the wineshop, Coupeau at once ordered +two bottles of wine, some bread and some slices of ham, to be served in the +little glazed closet on the ground floor, without plates or table cloth, simply +to have a snack. Then, noticing that Boche and Bibi-the-Smoker seemed to be +very hungry, he had a third bottle brought, as well as a slab of brie cheese. +Mother Coupeau was not hungry, being too choked up to be able to eat. Gervaise +found herself very thirsty, and drank several large glasses of water with a +small amount of wine added. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll settle for this,” said Coupeau, going at once to the +bar, where he paid four francs and five sous. +</p> + +<p> +It was now one o’clock and the other guests began to arrive. Madame +Fauconnier, a fat woman, still good looking, first put in an appearance; she +wore a chintz dress with a flowery pattern, a pink tie and a cap over-trimmed +with flowers. Next came Mademoiselle Remanjou, looking very thin in the eternal +black dress which she seemed to keep on even when she went to bed; and the two +Gaudrons—the husband, like some heavy animal and almost bursting his +brown jacket at the slightest movement, the wife, an enormous woman, whose +figure indicated evident signs of an approaching maternity and whose stiff +violet colored skirt still more increased her rotundity. Coupeau explained that +they were not to wait for My-Boots; his comrade would join the party on the +Route de Saint-Denis. +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” exclaimed Madame Lerat as she entered, “it’ll +pour in torrents soon! That’ll be pleasant!” +</p> + +<p> +And she called everyone to the door of the wineshop to see the clouds as black +as ink which were rising rapidly to the south of Paris. Madame Lerat, eldest of +the Coupeaus, was a tall, gaunt woman who talked through her nose. She was +unattractively dressed in a puce-colored robe that hung loosely on her and had +such long dangling fringes that they made her look like a skinny poodle coming +out of the water. She brandished her umbrella like a club. After greeting +Gervaise, she said, “You’ve no idea. The heat in the street is like +a slap on the face. You’d think someone was throwing fire at you.” +</p> + +<p> +Everyone agreed that they knew the storm was coming. It was in the air. +Monsieur Madinier said that he had seen it as they were coming out of the +church. Lorilleux mentioned that his corns were aching and he hadn’t been +able to sleep since three in the morning. A storm was due. It had been much too +hot for three days in a row. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, maybe it will just be a little mist,” Coupeau said several +times, standing at the door and anxiously studying the sky. “Now we have +to wait only for my sister. We’ll start as soon as she arrives.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lorilleux was late. Madame Lerat had stopped by so they could come +together, but found her only beginning to get dressed. The two sisters had +argued. The widow whispered in her brother’s ear, “I left her flat! +She’s in a dreadful mood. You’ll see.” +</p> + +<p> +And the wedding party had to wait another quarter of an hour, walking about the +wineshop, elbowed and jostled in the midst of the men who entered to drink a +glass of wine at the bar. Now and again Boche, or Madame Fauconnier, or +Bibi-the-Smoker left the others and went to the edge of the pavement, looking +up at the sky. The storm was not passing over at all; a darkness was coming on +and puffs of wind, sweeping along the ground, raised little clouds of white +dust. At the first clap of thunder, Mademoiselle Remanjou made the sign of the +cross. All the glances were anxiously directed to the clock over the +looking-glass; it was twenty minutes to two. +</p> + +<p> +“Here it goes!” cried Coupeau. “It’s the angels +who’re weeping.” +</p> + +<p> +A gush of rain swept the pavement, along which some women flew, holding down +their skirts with both hands. And it was in the midst of this first shower that +Madame Lorilleux at length arrived, furious and out of breath, and struggling +on the threshold with her umbrella that would not close. +</p> + +<p> +“Did any one ever see such a thing?” she exclaimed. “It +caught me just at the door. I felt inclined to go upstairs again and take my +things off. I should have been wise had I done so. Ah! it’s a pretty +wedding! I said how it would be. I wanted to put it off till next Saturday; and +it rains because they wouldn’t listen to me! So much the better, so much +the better! I wish the sky would burst!” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau tried to pacify her without success. He wouldn’t have to pay for +her dress if it was spoilt! She had on a black silk dress in which she was +nearly choking, the bodice, too tight fitting, was almost bursting the +button-holes, and was cutting her across the shoulders; while the skirt only +allowed her to take very short steps in walking. However, the ladies present +were all staring at her, quite overcome by her costume. +</p> + +<p> +She appeared not to notice Gervaise, who was sitting beside mother Coupeau. She +asked her husband for his handkerchief. Then she went into a corner and very +carefully wiped off the raindrops that had fallen on her silk dress. +</p> + +<p> +The shower had abruptly ceased. The darkness increased, it was almost like +night—a livid night rent at times by large flashes of lightning. +Bibi-the-Smoker said laughingly that it would certainly rain priests. Then the +storm burst forth with extreme violence. For half an hour the rain came down in +bucketsful, and the thunder rumbled unceasingly. The men standing up before the +door contemplated the grey veil of the downpour, the swollen gutters, the +splashes of water caused by the rain beating into the puddles. The women, +feeling frightened, had sat down again, holding their hands before their eyes. +They no longer conversed, they were too upset. A jest Boche made about the +thunder, saying that St. Peter was sneezing up there, failed to raise a smile. +But, when the thunder-claps became less frequent and gradually died away in the +distance, the wedding guests began to get impatient, enraged against the storm, +cursing and shaking their fists at the clouds. A fine and interminable rain now +poured down from the sky which had become an ashy grey. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s past two o’clock,” cried Madame Lorilleux. +“We can’t stop here for ever.” +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Remanjou, having suggested going into the country all the same, +even though they went no farther than the moat of the fortifications, the +others scouted the idea: the roads would be in a nice state, one would not even +be able to sit down on the grass; besides, it did not seem to be all over yet, +there might perhaps be another downpour. Coupeau, who had been watching a +workman, completely soaked, yet quietly walking along in the rain, murmured: +</p> + +<p> +“If that animal My-Boots is waiting for us on the Route de Saint-Denis, +he won’t catch a sunstroke.” +</p> + +<p> +That made some of them laugh; but the general ill-humor increased. It was +becoming ludicrous. They must decide on something unless they planned to sit +there, staring at each other, until time for dinner. So for the next quarter of +an hour, while the persistent rain continued, they tried to think of what to +do. Bibi-the-Smoker suggested that they play cards. Boche slyly suggesting a +most amusing game, the game of true confessions. Madame Gaudron thought of +going to eat onion tarts on the Chaussee Clignancourt. Madame Lerat wanted to +hear some stories. Gaudron said he wasn’t a bit put out and thought they +were quite well off where they were, out of the downpour. He suggested sitting +down to dinner immediately. +</p> + +<p> +There was a discussion after each proposal. Some said that this would put +everybody to sleep or that that would make people think they were stupid. +Lorilleux had to get his word in. He finally suggested a walk along the outer +Boulevards to Pere Lachaise cemetery. They could visit the tomb of Heloise and +Abelard. Madame Lorilleux exploded, no longer able to control herself. She was +leaving, she was. Were they trying to make fun of her? She got all dressed up +and came out in the rain. And for what? To be wasting time in a wineshop. No, +she had had enough of this wedding party. She’d rather be in her own +home. Coupeau and Lorilleux had to get between her and the door to keep her +from leaving. She kept telling them, “Get out of my way! I am leaving, I +tell you!” +</p> + +<p> +Lorilleux finally succeeded in calming her down. Coupeau went over to Gervaise, +who had been sitting quietly in a corner with mother Coupeau and Madame +Fauconnier. +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t suggested anything,” he said to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Whatever they want,” she replied, laughing. “I +don’t mind. We can go out or stay here.” +</p> + +<p> +She seemed aglow with contentment. She had spoken to each guest as they +arrived. She spoke sensibly, in her soft voice, not getting into any +disagreements. During the downpour, she had sat with her eyes wide open, +watching the lightning as though she could see the future in the sudden +flashes. +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Madinier had up to this time not proposed anything. He was leaning +against the bar, with the tails of his dress coat thrust apart, while he fully +maintained the important air of an employer. He kept on expectorating, and +rolled his big eyes about. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mon Dieu</i>!” said he, “we might go to the +Museum.” +</p> + +<p> +And he stroked his chin, as he blinkingly consulted the other members of the +party. +</p> + +<p> +“There are antiquities, pictures, paintings, a whole heap of things. It +is very instructive. Perhaps you have never been there. Oh! it is quite worth +seeing at least once in a while.” +</p> + +<p> +They looked at each other interrogatively. No, Gervaise had never been; Madame +Fauconnier neither, nor Boche, nor the others. Coupeau thought he had been one +Sunday, but he was not sure. They hesitated, however, when Madame Lorilleux, +greatly impressed by Monsieur Madinier’s importance, thought the +suggestion a very worthy and respectable one. As they were wasting the day, and +were all dressed up, they might as well go somewhere for their own instruction. +Everyone approved. Then, as it still rained a little, they borrowed some +umbrellas from the proprietor of the wineshop, old blue, green, and brown +umbrellas, forgotten by different customers, and started off to the Museum. +</p> + +<p> +The wedding party turned to the right, and descended into Paris along the +Faubourg Saint-Denis. Coupeau and Gervaise again took the lead, almost running +and keeping a good distance in front of the others. Monsieur Madinier now gave +his arm to Madame Lorilleux, mother Coupeau having remained behind in the +wineshop on account of her old legs. Then came Lorilleux and Madame Lerat, +Boche and Madame Fauconnier, Bibi-the-Smoker and Mademoiselle Remanjou, and +finally the two Gaudrons. They were twelve and made a pretty long procession on +the pavement. +</p> + +<p> +“I swear to you, we had nothing to do with it,” Madame Lorilleux +explained to Monsieur Madinier. “We don’t even know how they met, +or, we know only too well, but that’s not for us to discuss. My husband +even had to buy the wedding ring. We were scarcely out of bed this morning when +he had to lend them ten francs. And, not a member of her family at her wedding, +what kind of bride is that? She says she has a sister in Paris who works for a +pork butcher. Why didn’t she invite her?” She stopped to point at +Gervaise, who was limping awkwardly because of the slope of the pavement. +“Just look at her. Clump-clump.” +</p> + +<p> +“Clump-clump” ran through the wedding procession. Lorilleux laughed +under his breath, and said they ought to call her that, but Madame Fauconnier +stood up for Gervaise. They shouldn’t make fun of her; she was neat as a +pin and did a good job when there was washing to be done. +</p> + +<p> +When the wedding procession came out of the Faubourg Saint-Denis, they had to +cross the boulevard. The street had been transformed into a morass of sticky +mud by the storm. It had started to pour again and they had opened the assorted +umbrellas. The women picked their way carefully through the mud, holding their +skirts high as the men held the sorry-looking umbrellas over their heads. The +procession stretched out the width of the street. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a masquerade!” yelled two street urchins. +</p> + +<p> +People turned to stare. These couples parading across the boulevard added a +splash of vivid color against the damp background. It was a parade of a strange +medley of styles showing fancy used clothing such as constitute the luxury of +the poor. The gentlemen’s hats caused the most merriment, old hats +preserved for years in dark and dusty cupboards, in a variety of comical forms: +tall ones, flattened ones, sharply peaked ones, hats with extraordinary brims, +curled back or flat, too narrow or too wide. Then at the very end, Madame +Gaudron came along with her bright dress over her bulging belly and caused the +smiles of the audience to grow even wider. The procession made no effort to +hasten its progress. They were, in fact, rather pleased to attract so much +attention and admiration. +</p> + +<p> +“Look! Here comes the bride!” one of the urchins shouted, pointing +to Madame Gaudron. “Oh! Isn’t it too bad! She must have swallowed +something!” +</p> + +<p> +The entire wedding procession burst into laughter. Bibi-the-Smoker turned +around and laughed. Madame Gaudron laughed the most of all. She wasn’t +ashamed as she thought more than one of the women watching had looked at her +with envy. +</p> + +<p> +They turned into the Rue de Clery. Then they took the Rue du Mail. On reaching +the Place des Victoires, there was a halt. The bride’s left shoe lace had +come undone, and as she tied it up again at the foot of the statue of Louis +XIV., the couples pressed behind her waiting, and joking about the bit of calf +of her leg that she displayed. At length, after passing down the Rue +Croix-des-Petits-Champs, they reached the Louvre. +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Madinier politely asked to be their cicerone. It was a big place, and +they might lose themselves; besides, he knew the best parts, because he had +often come there with an artist, a very intelligent fellow from whom a large +dealer bought designs to put on his cardboard boxes. Down below, when the +wedding party entered the Assyrian Museum, a slight shiver passed through it. +The deuce! It was not at all warm there; the hall would have made a capital +cellar. And the couples slowly advanced, their chins raised, their eyes +blinking, between the gigantic stone figures, the black marble gods, dumb in +their hieratic rigidity, and the monstrous beasts, half cats and half women, +with death-like faces, attenuated noses, and swollen lips. They thought all +these things very ugly. The stone carvings of the present day were a great deal +better. An inscription in Phoenician characters amazed them. No one could +possibly have ever read that scrawl. But Monsieur Madinier, already up on the +first landing with Madame Lorilleux, called to them, shouting beneath the +vaulted ceiling: +</p> + +<p> +“Come along! They’re nothing, all those things! The things to see +are on the first floor!” +</p> + +<p> +The severe barrenness of the staircase made them very grave. An attendant, +superbly attired in a red waistcoat and a coat trimmed with gold lace, who +seemed to be awaiting them on the landing, increased their emotion. It was with +great respect, and treading as softly as possible, that they entered the French +Gallery. +</p> + +<p> +Then, without stopping, their eyes occupied with the gilding of the frames, +they followed the string of little rooms, glancing at the passing pictures too +numerous to be seen properly. It would have required an hour before each, if +they had wanted to understand it. What a number of pictures! There was no end +to them. They must be worth a mint of money. Right at the end, Monsieur +Madinier suddenly ordered a halt opposite the “Raft of the Medusa” +and he explained the subject to them. All deeply impressed and motionless, they +uttered not a word. When they started off again, Boche expressed the general +feeling, saying it was marvellous. +</p> + +<p> +In the Apollo Gallery, the inlaid flooring especially astonished the +party—a shining floor, as clear as a mirror, and which reflected the legs +of the seats. Mademoiselle Remanjou kept her eyes closed, because she could not +help thinking that she was walking on water. They called to Madame Gaudron to +be careful how she trod on account of her condition. Monsieur Madinier wanted +to show them the gilding and paintings of the ceiling; but it nearly broke +their necks to look up above, and they could distinguish nothing. Then, before +entering the Square Salon, he pointed to a window, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the balcony from which Charles IX. fired on the +people.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked back to make sure the party was following. In the middle of the Salon +Carre, he held up his hand. “There are only masterpieces here,” he +said, in a subdued voice, as though in church. They went all around the room. +Gervaise wanted to know about “The Wedding at Cana.” Coupeau paused +to stare at the “Mona Lisa,” saying that she reminded him of one of +his aunts. Boche and Bibi-the-Smoker snickered at the nudes, pointing them out +to each other and winking. The Gaudrons looked at the “Virgin” of +Murillo, he with his mouth open, she with her hands folded on her belly. +</p> + +<p> +When they had been all around the Salon, Monsieur Madinier wished them to go +round it again, it was so worth while. He was very attentive to Madame +Lorilleux, because of her silk dress; and each time that she questioned him he +answered her gravely, with great assurance. She was curious about +“Titian’s Mistress” because the yellow hair resembled her +own. He told her it was “La Belle Ferronniere,” a mistress of Henry +IV. about whom there had been a play at the Ambigu. +</p> + +<p> +Then the wedding party invaded the long gallery occupied by the Italian and +Flemish schools. More paintings, always paintings, saints, men and women, with +faces which some of them could understand, landscapes that were all black, +animals turned yellow, a medley of people and things, the great mixture of the +colors of which was beginning to give them all violent headaches. Monsieur +Madinier no longer talked as he slowly headed the procession, which followed +him in good order, with stretched necks and upcast eyes. Centuries of art +passed before their bewildered ignorance, the fine sharpness of the early +masters, the splendors of the Venetians, the vigorous life, beautiful with +light, of the Dutch painters. But what interested them most were the artists +who were copying, with their easels planted amongst the people, painting away +unrestrainedly; an old lady, mounted on a pair of high steps, working a big +brush over the delicate sky of an immense painting, struck them as something +most peculiar. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly the word must have gone around that a wedding party was visiting the +Louvre. Several painters came over with big smiles. Some visitors were so +curious that they went to sit on benches ahead of the group in order to be +comfortable while they watched them pass in review. Museum guards bit back +comments. The wedding party was now quite weary and beginning to drag their +feet. +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Madinier was reserving himself to give more effect to a surprise that +he had in store. He went straight to the “Kermesse” of Rubens; but +still he said nothing. He contented himself with directing the others’ +attention to the picture by a sprightly glance. The ladies uttered faint cries +the moment they brought their noses close to the painting. Then, blushing +deeply they turned away their heads. The men though kept them there, cracking +jokes, and seeking for the coarser details. +</p> + +<p> +“Just look!” exclaimed Boche, “it’s worth the money. +There’s one spewing, and another, he’s watering the dandelions; and +that one—oh! that one. Ah, well! They’re a nice clean lot, they +are!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us be off,” said Monsieur Madinier, delighted with his +success. “There is nothing more to see here.” +</p> + +<p> +They retraced their steps, passing again through the Salon Carre and the Apollo +Gallery. Madame Lerat and Mademoiselle Remanjou complained, declaring that +their legs could scarcely bear them. But the cardboard box manufacturer wanted +to show Lorilleux the old jewelry. It was close by in a little room which he +could find with his eyes shut. However, he made a mistake and led the wedding +party astray through seven or eight cold, deserted rooms, only ornamented with +severe looking-glass cases, containing numberless broken pots and hideous +little figures. +</p> + +<p> +While looking for an exit they stumbled into the collection of drawings. It was +immense. Through room after room they saw nothing interesting, just scribblings +on paper that filled all the cases and covered the walls. They thought there +was no end to these drawings. +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Madinier, losing his head, not willing to admit that he did not know +his way, ascended a flight of stairs, making the wedding party mount to the +next floor. This time they traversed the Naval Museum, among models of +instruments and cannons, plans in relief, and vessels as tiny as playthings. +After going a long way, and walking for a quarter of an hour, the party came +upon another staircase; and, having descended this, found itself once more +surrounded by the drawings. Then despair took possession of them as they +wandered at random through long halls, following Monsieur Madinier, who was +furious and mopping the sweat from his forehead. He accused the government of +having moved the doors around. Museum guards and visitors looked on with +astonishment as the procession, still in a column of couples, passed by. They +passed again through the Salon Carre, the French Gallery and then along the +cases where minor Eastern divinities slumbered peacefully. It seemed they would +never find their way out. They were getting tired and made a lot of noise. +</p> + +<p> +“Closing time! Closing time!” called out the attendants, in a loud +tone of voice. +</p> + +<p> +And the wedding party was nearly locked in. An attendant was obliged to place +himself at the head of it, and conduct it to a door. Then in the courtyard of +the Louvre, when it had recovered its umbrellas from the cloakroom, it breathed +again. Monsieur Madinier regained his assurance. He had made a mistake in not +turning to the left, now he recollected that the jewelry was to the left. The +whole party pretended to be very pleased at having seen all they had. +</p> + +<p> +Four o’clock was striking. There were still two hours to be employed +before the dinner time, so it was decided they should take a stroll, just to +occupy the interval. The ladies, who were very tired, would have preferred to +sit down; but, as no one offered any refreshments, they started off, following +the line of quays. There they encountered another shower and so sharp a one +that in spite of the umbrellas, the ladies’ dresses began to get wet. +Madame Lorilleux, her heart sinking within her each time a drop fell upon her +black silk, proposed that they should shelter themselves under the Pont-Royal; +besides if the others did not accompany her, she threatened to go all by +herself. And the procession marched under one of the arches of the bridge. They +were very comfortable there. It was, most decidedly a capital idea! The ladies, +spreading their handkerchiefs over the paving-stones, sat down with their knees +wide apart, and pulled out the blades of grass that grew between the stones +with both hands, whilst they watched the dark flowing water as though they were +in the country. The men amused themselves with calling out very loud, so as to +awaken the echoes of the arch. Boche and Bibi-the-Smoker shouted insults into +the air at the top of their voices, one after the other. They laughed +uproariously when the echo threw the insults back at them. When their throats +were hoarse from shouting, they made a game of skipping flat stones on the +surface of the Seine. +</p> + +<p> +The shower had ceased but the whole party felt so comfortable that no one +thought of moving away. The Seine was flowing by, an oily sheet carrying bottle +corks, vegetable peelings, and other refuse that sometimes collected in +temporary whirlpools moving along with the turbulent water. Endless traffic +rumbled on the bridge overhead, the noisy bustle of Paris, of which they could +glimpse only the rooftops to the left and right, as though they were in the +bottom of a deep pit. +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Remanjou sighed; if the leaves had been out this would have +reminded her of a bend of the Marne where she used to go with a young man. It +still made her cry to think of him. +</p> + +<p> +At last, Monsieur Madinier gave the signal for departure. They passed through +the Tuileries gardens, in the midst of a little community of children, whose +hoops and balls upset the good order of the couples. Then as the wedding party +on arriving at the Place Vendome looked up at the column, Monsieur Madinier +gallantly offered to treat the ladies to a view from the top. His suggestion +was considered extremely amusing. Yes, yes, they would go up; it would give +them something to laugh about for a long time. Besides, it would be full of +interest for those persons who had never been higher than a cow pasture. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think Clump-clump will venture inside there with her leg all out +of place?” murmured Madame Lorilleux. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go up with pleasure,” said Madame Lerat, “but I +won’t have any men walking behind me.” +</p> + +<p> +And the whole party ascended. In the narrow space afforded by the spiral +staircase, the twelve persons crawled up one after the other, stumbling against +the worn steps, and clinging to the walls. Then, when the obscurity became +complete, they almost split their sides with laughing. The ladies screamed when +the gentlemen pinched their legs. But they were weren’t stupid enough to +say anything! The proper plan is to think that it is the mice nibbling at them. +It wasn’t very serious; the men knew when to stop. +</p> + +<p> +Boche thought of a joke and everyone took it up. They called down to Madame +Gaudron to ask her if she could squeeze her belly through. Just think! If she +should get stuck there, she would completely block the passage, and how would +they ever get out? They laughed so at the jokes about her belly that the column +itself vibrated. Boche was now quite carried away and declared that they were +growing old climbing up this chimney pipe. Was it ever coming to an end, or did +it go right up to heaven? He tried to frighten the ladies by telling them the +structure was shaking. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau, meanwhile, said nothing. He was behind Gervaise, with his arm around +her waist, and felt that she was everything perfect to him. When they suddenly +emerged again into the daylight, he was just in the act of kissing her on the +cheek. +</p> + +<p> +“Well! You’re a nice couple; you don’t stand on +ceremony,” said Madame Lorilleux with a scandalized air. +</p> + +<p> +Bibi-the-Smoker pretended to be furious. He muttered between his teeth. +“You made such a noise together! I wasn’t even able to count the +steps.” +</p> + +<p> +But Monsieur Madinier was already up on the platform, pointing out the +different monuments. Neither Madame Fauconnier nor Mademoiselle Remanjou would +on any consideration leave the staircase. The thought of the pavement below +made their blood curdle, and they contented themselves with glancing out of the +little door. Madame Lerat, who was bolder, went round the narrow terrace, +keeping close to the bronze dome; but, <i>mon Dieu</i>, it gave one a rude +emotion to think that one only had to slip off. The men were a little paler +than usual as they stared down at the square below. You would think you were up +in mid-air, detached from everything. No, it wasn’t fun, it froze your +very insides. +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Madinier told them to raise their eyes and look straight into the +distance to avoid feeling dizzy. He went on pointing out the Invalides, the +Pantheon, Notre Dame and the Montmartre hill. Madame Lorilleux asked if they +could see the place where they were to have dinner, the Silver Windmill on the +Boulevard de la Chapelle. For ten minutes they tried to see it, even arguing +about it. Everyone had their own idea where it was. +</p> + +<p> +“It wasn’t worth while coming up here to bite each other’s +noses off,” said Boche, angrily as he turned to descend the staircase. +</p> + +<p> +The wedding party went down, unspeaking and sulky, awakening no other sound +beyond that of shoes clanking on the stone steps. When it reached the bottom, +Monsieur Madinier wished to pay; but Coupeau would not permit him, and hastened +to place twenty-four sous into the keeper’s hand, two sous for each +person. So they returned by the Boulevards and the Faubourg du Poissonniers. +Coupeau, however, considered that their outing could not end like that. He +bundled them all into a wineshop where they took some vermouth. +</p> + +<p> +The repast was ordered for six o’clock. At the Silver Windmill, they had +been waiting for the wedding party for a good twenty minutes. Madame Boche, who +had got a lady living in the same house to attend to her duties for the +evening, was conversing with mother Coupeau in the first floor room, in front +of the table, which was all laid out; and the two youngsters, Claude and +Etienne, whom she had brought with her, were playing about beneath the table +and amongst the chairs. When Gervaise, on entering caught sight of the little +ones, whom she had not seen all the day, she took them on her knees, and +caressed and kissed them. +</p> + +<p> +“Have they been good?” asked she of Madame Boche. “I hope +they haven’t worried you too much.” +</p> + +<p> +And as the latter related the things the little rascals had done during the +afternoon, and which would make one die with laughing, the mother again took +them up and pressed them to her breast, seized with an overpowering outburst of +maternal affection. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not very pleasant for Coupeau, all the same,” Madame +Lorilleux was saying to the other ladies, at the end of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise had kept her smiling peacefulness from the morning, but after the long +walk she appeared almost sad at times as she watched her husband and the +Lorilleuxs in a thoughtful way. She had the feeling that Coupeau was a little +afraid of his sister. The evening before, he had been talking big, swearing he +would put them in their places if they didn’t behave. However, she could +see that in their presence he was hanging on their words, worrying when he +thought they might be displeased. This gave the young bride some cause for +worry about the future. +</p> + +<p> +They were now only waiting for My-Boots, who had not yet put in an appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! blow him!” cried Coupeau, “let’s begin. +You’ll see, he’ll soon turn up, he’s got a hollow nose, he +can scent the grub from afar. I say he must be amusing himself, if he’s +still standing like a post on the Route de Saint-Denis!” +</p> + +<p> +Then the wedding party, feeling very lively, sat down making a great noise with +the chairs. Gervaise was between Lorilleux and Monsieur Madinier, and Coupeau +between Madame Fauconnier and Madame Lorilleux. The other guests seated +themselves where they liked, because it always ended with jealousies and +quarrels, when one settled their places for them. Boche glided to a seat beside +Madame Lerat. Bibi-the-Smoker had for neighbors Mademoiselle Remanjou and +Madame Gaudron. As for Madame Boche and mother Coupeau, they were right at the +end of the table, looking after the children, cutting up their meat and giving +them something to drink, but not much wine. +</p> + +<p> +“Does nobody say grace?” asked Boche, whilst the ladies arranged +their skirts under the table-cloth, so as not to get them stained. +</p> + +<p> +But Madame Lorilleux paid no attention to such pleasantries. The vermicelli +soup, which was nearly cold, was gulped down very quickly, their lips making a +hissing noise against the spoons. Two waiters served at table, dressed in +little greasy jackets and not over-clean white aprons. By the four open windows +overlooking the acacias of the courtyard there entered the clear light of the +close of a stormy day, with the atmosphere purified thereby though without +sufficiently cooling it. The light reflected from the humid corner of trees +tinged the haze-filled room with green and made leaf shadows dance along the +table-cloth, from which came a vague aroma of dampness and mildew. +</p> + +<p> +Two large mirrors, one at each end of the room, seemed to stretch out the +table. The heavy crockery with which it was set was beginning to turn yellow +and the cutlery was scratched and grimed with grease. Each time a waiter came +through the swinging doors from the kitchen a whiff of odorous burnt lard came +with him. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t all talk at once,” said Boche, as everyone remained +silent with his nose in his plate. +</p> + +<p> +They were drinking the first glass of wine as their eyes followed two meat pies +which the waiters were handing round when My-Boots entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you’re a scurvy lot, you people!” said he. +“I’ve been wearing my pins out for three hours waiting on that +road, and a gendarme even came and asked me for my papers. It isn’t right +to play such dirty tricks on a friend! You might at least have sent me word by +a commissionaire. Ah! no, you know, joking apart, it’s too bad. And with +all that, it rained so hard that I got my pickets full of water. Honor bright, +you might still catch enough fish in ’em for a meal.” +</p> + +<p> +The others wriggled with laughter. That animal My-Boots was just a bit on; he +had certainly already stowed away his two quarts of wine, merely to prevent his +being bothered by all that frog’s liquor with which the storm had deluged +his limbs. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo! Count Leg-of-Mutton!” said Coupeau, “just go and sit +yourself there, beside Madame Gaudron. You see you were expected.” +</p> + +<p> +Oh, he did not mind, he would soon catch the others up; and he asked for three +helpings of soup, platefuls of vermicelli, in which he soaked enormous slices +of bread. Then, when they had attacked the meat pies, he became the profound +admiration of everyone at the table. How he stowed it away! The bewildered +waiters helped each other to pass him bread, thin slices which he swallowed at +a mouthful. He ended by losing his temper; he insisted on having a loaf placed +on the table beside him. The landlord, very anxious, came for a moment and +looked in at the door. The party, which was expecting him, again wriggled with +laughter. It seemed to upset the caterer. What a rum card he was that My-Boots! +One day he had eaten a dozen hard-boiled eggs and drank a dozen glasses of wine +while the clock was striking twelve! There are not many who can do that. And +Mademoiselle Remanjou, deeply moved, watched My-Boots chew whilst Monsieur +Madinier, seeking for a word to express his almost respectful astonishment, +declared that such a capacity was extraordinary. +</p> + +<p> +There was a brief silence. A waiter had just placed on the table a ragout of +rabbits in a vast dish as deep as a salad-bowl. Coupeau, who liked fun, started +another joke. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, waiter, that rabbit’s from the housetops. It still +mews.” +</p> + +<p> +And in fact, a faint mew perfectly imitated seemed to issue from the dish. It +was Coupeau who did that with his throat, without opening his lips; a talent +which at all parties, met with decided success, so much so that he never +ordered a dinner abroad without having a rabbit ragout. After that he purred. +The ladies pressed their napkins to their mouths to try and stop their +laughter. Madame Fauconnier asked for a head, she only liked that part. +Mademoiselle Remanjou had a weakness for the slices of bacon. And as Boche said +he preferred the little onions when they were nicely broiled, Madame Lerat +screwed up her lips, and murmured: +</p> + +<p> +“I can understand that.” +</p> + +<p> +She was a dried up stick, living the cloistered life of a hard-working woman +imprisoned within her daily routine, who had never had a man stick his nose +into her room since the death of her husband; yet she had an obsession with +double meanings and indecent allusions that were sometimes so far off the mark +that only she understood them. +</p> + +<p> +As Boche leaned toward her and, in a whisper, asked for an explanation, she +resumed: +</p> + +<p> +“Little onions, why of course. That’s quite enough, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +The general conversation was becoming grave. Each one was talking of his trade. +Monsieur Madinier raved about the cardboard business. There were some real +artists. For an example, he mentioned Christmas gift boxes, of which he’d +seen samples that were marvels of splendor. +</p> + +<p> +Lorilleux sneered at this; he was extremely vain because of working with gold, +feeling that it gave a sort of sheen to his fingers and his whole personality. +“In olden times jewelers wore swords like gentlemen.” He often +cited the case of Bernard Palissy, even though he really knew nothing about +him. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau told of a masterpiece of a weather vane made by one of his fellow +workers which included a Greek column, a sheaf of wheat, a basket of fruit, and +a flag, all beautifully worked out of nothing but strips of zinc shaped and +soldered together. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lerat showed Bibi-the-Smoker how to make a rose by rolling the handle of +her knife between her bony fingers. +</p> + +<p> +All the while, their voices had been rising louder and louder, competing for +attention. Shrill comments by Madame Fauconnier were heard. She complained +about the girls who worked for her, especially a little apprentice who was +nothing but a tart and had badly scorched some sheets the evening before. +</p> + +<p> +“You may talk,” Lorilleux cried, banging his fist down on the +table, “but gold is gold.” +</p> + +<p> +And, in the midst of the silence caused by the statement of this fact, the only +sound heard was Mademoiselle Remanjou’s shrill voice continuing: +</p> + +<p> +“Then I turn up the skirt and stitch it inside. I stick a pin in the head +to keep the cap on, and that’s all; and they are sold for thirteen sous a +piece.” +</p> + +<p> +She was explaining how she dressed her dolls to My-Boots, whose jaws were +working slowly like grindstones. He did not listen, though he kept nodding his +head, but looked after the waiters to prevent them removing any of the dishes +he had not cleaned out. They had now finished a veal stew with green beans. The +roast was brought in, two scrawny chickens resting on a bed of water cress +which was limp from the warming oven. +</p> + +<p> +Outside, only the higher branches of the acacias were touched by the setting +sun. Inside, the greenish reflected light was thickened by wisps of steam +rising from the table, now messy with spilled wine and gravy and the debris of +the dinner. Along the wall were dirty dishes and empty bottles which the +waiters had piled there like a heap of refuse. It was so hot that the men took +off their jackets and continued eating in their shirt sleeves. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Boche, please don’t spread their butter so thick,” +said Gervaise, who spoke but little, and who was watching Claude and Etienne +from a distance. +</p> + +<p> +She got up from her seat, and went and talked for a minute while standing +behind the little ones’ chairs. Children did not reason; they would eat +all day long without refusing a single thing; and then she herself helped them +to some chicken, a little of the breast. But mother Coupeau said they might, +just for once in a while, risk an attack of indigestion. Madame Boche, in a low +voice accused Boche of caressing Madame Lerat’s knees. Oh, he was a sly +one, but he was getting a little too gay. She had certainly seen his hand +disappear. If he did it again, drat him! she wouldn’t hesitate throwing a +pitcher of water over his head. +</p> + +<p> +In the partial silence, Monsieur Madinier was talking politics. “Their +law of May 31, is an abominable one. Now you must reside in a place for two +years. Three millions of citizens are struck off the voting lists. I’ve +been told that Bonaparte is, in reality, very much annoyed for he loves the +people; he has given them proofs.” +</p> + +<p> +He was a republican; but he admired the prince on account of his uncle, a man +the like of whom would never be seen again. Bibi-the-Smoker flew into a +passion. He had worked at the Elysee; he had seen Bonaparte just as he saw +My-Boots in front of him over there. Well that muff of a president was just +like a jackass, that was all! It was said that he was going to travel about in +the direction of Lyons; it would be a precious good riddance of bad rubbish if +he fell into some hole and broke his neck. But, as the discussion was becoming +too heated, Coupeau had to interfere. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well! How simple you all are to quarrel about politics. Politics are +all humbug! Do such things exist for us? Let there be any one as king, it +won’t prevent me earning my five francs a day, and eating and sleeping; +isn’t that so? No, it’s too stupid to argue about!” +</p> + +<p> +Lorilleux shook his head. He was born on the same day as the Count of Chambord, +the 29th of September, 1820. He was greatly struck with this coincidence, +indulging himself in a vague dream, in which he established a connection +between the king’s return to France and his own private fortunes. He +never said exactly what he was expecting, but he led people to suppose that +when that time arrived something extraordinarily agreeable would happen to him. +So whenever he had a wish too great to be gratified, he would put it off to +another time, when the king came back. +</p> + +<p> +“Besides,” observed he, “I saw the Count de Chambord one +evening.” +</p> + +<p> +Every face was turned towards him. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s quite true. A stout man, in an overcoat, and with a +good-natured air. I was at Pequignot’s, one of my friends who deals in +furniture in the Grand Rue de la Chapelle. The Count of Chambord had forgotten +his umbrella there the day before; so he came in, and just simply said, like +this: ‘Will you please return me my umbrella?’ Well, yes, it was +him; Pequignot gave me his word of honor it was.” +</p> + +<p> +Not one of the guests suggested the smallest doubt. They had now arrived at +dessert and the waiters were clearing the table with much clattering of dishes. +Madame Lorilleux, who up to then had been very genteel, very much the lady, +suddenly let fly with a curse. One of the waiters had spilled something wet +down her neck while removing a dish. This time her silk dress would be stained +for sure. Monsieur Madinier had to examine her back, but he swore there was +nothing to be seen. +</p> + +<p> +Two platters of cheese, two dishes of fruit, and a floating island pudding of +frosted eggs in a deep salad-bowl had now been placed along the middle of the +table. The pudding caused a moment of respectful attention even though the +overdone egg whites had flattened on the yellow custard. It was unexpected and +seemed very fancy. +</p> + +<p> +My-Boots was still eating. He had asked for another loaf. He finished what +there was of the cheese; and, as there was some cream left, he had the +salad-bowl passed to him, into which he sliced some large pieces of bread as +though for a soup. +</p> + +<p> +“The gentleman is really remarkable,” said Monsieur Madinier, again +giving way to his admiration. +</p> + +<p> +Then the men rose to get their pipes. They stood for a moment behind My-Boots, +patting him on the back, and asking him if he was feeling better. +Bibi-the-Smoker lifted him up in his chair; but <i>tonnerre de Dieu!</i> the +animal had doubled in weight. Coupeau joked that My-Boots was only getting +started, that now he was going to settle down and really eat for the rest of +the night. The waiters were startled and quickly vanished from sight. +</p> + +<p> +Boche, who had gone downstairs for a moment, came up to report the +proprietor’s reaction. He was standing behind his bar, pale as death. His +wife, dreadfully upset, was wondering if any bakeries were still open. Even the +cat seemed deep in despair. This was as funny as could be, really worth the +price of the dinner. It was impossible to have a proper dinner party without +My-Boots, the bottomless pit. The other men eyed him with a brooding jealousy +as they puffed on their pipes. Indeed, to be able to eat so much, you had to be +very solidly built! +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t care to be obliged to support you,” said Madame +Gaudron. “Ah, no; you may take my word for that!” +</p> + +<p> +“I say, little mother, no jokes,” replied My-Boots, casting a side +glance at his neighbor’s rotund figure. “You’ve swallowed +more than I have.” +</p> + +<p> +The others applauded, shouting “Bravo!”—it was well answered. +It was now pitch dark outside, three gas-jets were flaring in the room, +diffusing dim rays in the midst of the tobacco-smoke. The waiters, after +serving the coffee and the brandy, had removed the last piles of dirty plates. +Down below, beneath the three acacias, dancing had commenced, a cornet-a-piston +and two fiddles playing very loud, and mingling in the warm night air with the +rather hoarse laughter of women. +</p> + +<p> +“We must have a punch!” cried My-Boots; “two quarts of +brandy, lots of lemon, and a little sugar.” +</p> + +<p> +But Coupeau, seeing the anxious look on Gervaise’s face in front of him, +got up from the table, declaring that there should be no more drink. They had +emptied twenty-five quarts, a quart and a half to each person, counting the +children as grown-up people; that was already too much. They had had a feed +together in good fellowship, and without ceremony, because they esteemed each +other, and wished to celebrate the event of the day amongst themselves. +Everything had been very nice; they had had lots of fun. It wouldn’t do +to get cockeyed drunk now, out of respect to the ladies. That was all he had to +say, they had come together to toast a marriage and they had done so. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau delivered the little speech with convincing sincerity and punctuated +each phrase by placing his hand on his heart. He won whole-hearted approval +from Lorilleux and Monsieur Madinier; but the other four men, especially +My-Boots, were already well lit and sneered. They declared in hoarse drunken +voices that they were thirsty and wanted drinks. +</p> + +<p> +“Those who’re thirsty are thirsty, and those who aren’t +thirsty aren’t thirsty,” remarked My-Boots. “Therefore, +we’ll order the punch. No one need take offence. The aristocrats can +drink sugar-and-water.” +</p> + +<p> +And as the zinc-worker commenced another sermon, the other, who had risen on +his legs, gave himself a slap, exclaiming: +</p> + +<p> +“Come, let’s have no more of that, my boy! Waiter, two quarts of +your aged stuff!” +</p> + +<p> +So Coupeau said very well, only they would settle for the dinner at once. It +would prevent any disputes. The well-behaved people did not want to pay for the +drunkards; and it just happened that My-Boots, after searching in his pockets +for a long time, could only produce three francs and seven sous. Well, why had +they made him wait all that time on the Route de Saint-Denis? He could not let +himself be drowned and so he had broken into his five-franc piece. It was the +fault of the others, that was all! He ended by giving the three francs, keeping +the seven sous for the morrow’s tobacco. Coupeau, who was furious, would +have knocked him over had not Gervaise, greatly frightened, pulled him by his +coat, and begged him to keep cool. He decided to borrow the two francs of +Lorilleux, who after refusing them, lent them on the sly, for his wife would +never have consented to his doing so. +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Madinier went round with a plate. The spinster and the ladies who were +alone—Madame Lerat, Madame Fauconnier, Mademoiselle +Remanjou—discreetly placed their five-franc pieces in it first. Then the +gentlemen went to the other end of the room, and made up the accounts. They +were fifteen; it amounted therefore to seventy-five francs. When the +seventy-five francs were in the plate, each man added five sous for the +waiters. It took a quarter of an hour of laborious calculations before +everything was settled to the general satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +But when Monsieur Madinier, who wished to deal direct with the landlord, had +got him to step up, the whole party became lost in astonishment on hearing him +say with a smile that there was still something due to him. There were some +extras; and, as the word “extras” was greeted with angry +exclamations, he entered into details:—Twenty-five quarts of wine, +instead of twenty, the number agreed upon beforehand; the frosted eggs, which +he had added, as the dessert was rather scanty; finally, a quarter of a bottle +of rum, served with the coffee, in case any one preferred rum. Then a +formidable quarrel ensued. Coupeau, who was appealed to, protested against +everything; he had never mentioned twenty quarts; as for the frosted eggs, they +were included in the dessert, so much the worse for the landlord if he choose +to add them without being asked to do so. There remained the rum, a mere +nothing, just a mode of increasing the bill by putting on the table spirits +that no one thought anything about. +</p> + +<p> +“It was on the tray with the coffee,” he cried; “therefore it +goes with the coffee. Go to the deuce! Take your money, and never again will we +set foot in your den!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s six francs more,” repeated the landlord. “Pay me +my six francs; and with all that I haven’t counted the four loaves that +gentleman ate!” +</p> + +<p> +The whole party, pressing forward, surrounded him with furious gestures and a +yelping of voices choking with rage. The women especially threw aside all +reserve, and refused to add another centime. This was some wedding dinner! +Mademoiselle Remanjou vowed she would never again attend such a party. Madame +Fauconnier declared she had had a very disappointing meal; at home she could +have had a finger-licking dish for only two francs. Madame Gaudron bitterly +complained that she had been shoved down to the worst end of the table next to +My-Boots who had ignored her. These parties never turned out well, one should +be more careful whom one invites. Gervaise had taken refuge with mother Coupeau +near one of the windows, feeling shamed as she realized that all these +recriminations would fall back upon her. +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Madinier ended by going down with the landlord. One could hear them +arguing below. Then, when half an hour had gone by the cardboard box +manufacturer returned; he had settled the matter by giving three francs. But +the party continued annoyed and exasperated, constantly returning to the +question of the extras. And the uproar increased from an act of vigor on Madame +Boche’s part. She had kept an eye on Boche, and at length detected him +squeezing Madame Lerat round the waist in a corner. Then, with all her +strength, she flung a water pitcher, which smashed against the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“One can easily see that your husband’s a tailor, madame,” +said the tall widow, with a curl of the lip, full of a double meaning. +“He’s a petticoat specialist, even though I gave him some pretty +hard kicks under the table.” +</p> + +<p> +The harmony of the evening was altogether upset. Everyone became more and more +ill-tempered. Monsieur Madinier suggested some singing, but Bibi-the-Smoker, +who had a fine voice, had disappeared some time before; and Mademoiselle +Remanjou, who was leaning out of the window, caught sight of him under the +acacias, swinging round a big girl who was bare-headed. The cornet-a-piston and +two fiddles were playing “<i>Le Marchand de Moutarde</i>.” The +party now began to break up. My-Boots and the Gaudrons went down to the dance +with Boche sneaking along after them. The twirling couples could be seen from +the windows. The night was still as though exhausted from the heat of the day. +A serious conversation started between Lorilleux and Monsieur Madinier. The +ladies examined their dresses carefully to see if they had been stained. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lerat’s fringe looked as though it had been dipped in the coffee. +Madame Fauconnier’s chintz dress was spotted with gravy. Mother +Coupeau’s green shawl, fallen from off a chair, was discovered in a +corner, rolled up and trodden upon. But it was Madame Lorilleux especially who +became more ill-tempered still. She had a stain on the back of her dress; it +was useless for the others to declare that she had not—she felt it. And, +by twisting herself about in front of a looking-glass, she ended by catching a +glimpse of it. +</p> + +<p> +“What did I say?” cried she. “It’s gravy from the fowl. +The waiter shall pay for the dress. I will bring an action against him. Ah! +this is a fit ending to such a day. I should have done better to have stayed in +bed. To begin with, I’m off. I’ve had enough of their wretched +wedding!” +</p> + +<p> +And she left the room in a rage, causing the staircase to shake beneath her +heavy footsteps. Lorilleux ran after her. But all she would consent to was that +she would wait five minutes on the pavement outside, if he wanted them to go +off together. She ought to have left directly after the storm, as she wished to +do. She would make Coupeau sorry for that day. Coupeau was dismayed when he +heard how angry she was. Gervaise agreed to leave at once to avoid embarrassing +him any more. +</p> + +<p> +There was a flurry of quick good-night kisses. Monsieur Madinier was to escort +mother Coupeau home. Madame Boche would take Claude and Etienne with her for +the bridal night. The children were sound asleep on chairs, stuffed full from +the dinner. Just as the bridal couple and Lorilleux were about to go out the +door, a quarrel broke out near the dance floor between their group and another +group. Boche and My-Boots were kissing a lady and wouldn’t give her up to +her escorts, two soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +It was scarcely eleven o’clock. On the Boulevard de la Chapelle, and in +the entire neighborhood of the Goutte-d’Or, the fortnight’s pay, +which fell due on that Saturday, produced an enormous drunken uproar. Madame +Lorilleux was waiting beneath a gas-lamp about twenty paces from the Silver +Windmill. She took her husband’s arm, and walked on in front without +looking round, at such a rate, that Gervaise and Coupeau got quite out of +breath in trying to keep up with them. Now and again they stepped off the +pavement to leave room for some drunkard who had fallen there. Lorilleux looked +back, endeavoring to make things pleasant. +</p> + +<p> +“We will see you as far as your door,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +But Madame Lorilleux, raising her voice, thought it a funny thing to spend +one’s wedding night in such a filthy hole as the Hotel Boncoeur. Ought +they not to have put their marriage off, and have saved a few sous to buy some +furniture, so as to have had a home of their own on the first night? Ah! they +would be comfortable, right up under the roof, packed into a little closet, at +ten francs a month, where there was not even the slightest air. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve given notice, we’re not going to use the room up at the +top of the house,” timidly interposed Coupeau. “We are keeping +Gervaise’s room, which is larger.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lorilleux forgot herself. She turned abruptly round. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s worse than all!” cried she. “You’re going +to sleep in Clump-clump’s room.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise became quite pale. This nickname, which she received full in the face +for the first time, fell on her like a blow. And she fully understood it, too, +her sister-in-law’s exclamation: the Clump-clump’s room was the +room in which she had lived for a month with Lantier, where the shreds of her +past life still hung about. Coupeau did not understand this, but merely felt +hurt at the harsh nickname. +</p> + +<p> +“You do wrong to christen others,” he replied angrily. “You +don’t know perhaps, that in the neighborhood they call you +Cow’s-Tail, because of your hair. There, that doesn’t please you, +does it? Why should we not keep the room on the first floor? To-night the +children won’t sleep there, and we shall be very comfortable.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lorilleux added nothing further, but retired into her dignity, horribly +annoyed at being called Cow’s-Tail. To cheer up Gervaise, Coupeau +squeezed her arm softly. He even succeeded in making her smile by whispering +into her ear that they were setting up housekeeping with the grand sum of seven +sous, three big two-sou pieces and one little sou, which he jingled in his +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +When they reached the Hotel Boncoeur, the two couples wished each other +good-night, with an angry air; and as Coupeau pushed the two women into each +other’s arms, calling them a couple of ninnies, a drunken fellow, who +seemed to want to go to the right, suddenly slipped to the left and came +tumbling between them. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, it’s old Bazouge!” said Lorilleux. “He’s +had his fill to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, frightened, squeezed up against the door of the hotel. Old Bazouge, +an undertaker’s helper of some fifty years of age, had his black trousers +all stained with mud, his black cape hooked on to his shoulder, and his black +feather hat knocked in by some tumble he had taken. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be afraid, he’s harmless,” continued Lorilleux. +“He’s a neighbor of ours—the third room in the passage before +us. He would find himself in a nice mess if his people were to see him like +this!” +</p> + +<p> +Old Bazouge, however, felt offended at the young woman’s evident terror. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what!” hiccoughed he, “we ain’t going to eat any +one. I’m as good as another any day, my little woman. No doubt I’ve +had a drop! When work’s plentiful one must grease the wheels. It’s +not you, nor your friends, who would have carried down the stiff ’un of +forty-seven stone whom I and a pal brought from the fourth floor to the +pavement, and without smashing him too. I like jolly people.” +</p> + +<p> +But Gervaise retreated further into the doorway, seized with a longing to cry, +which spoilt her day of sober-minded joy. She no longer thought of kissing her +sister-in-law, she implored Coupeau to get rid of the drunkard. Then Bazouge, +as he stumbled about, made a gesture of philosophical disdain. +</p> + +<p> +“That won’t prevent you passing though our hands, my little woman. +You’ll perhaps be glad to do so, one of these days. Yes, I know some +women who’d be much obliged if we did carry them off.” +</p> + +<p> +And, as Lorilleux led him away, he turned around, and stuttered out a last +sentence, between two hiccoughs. +</p> + +<p> +“When you’re dead—listen to this—when you’re +dead, it’s for a long, long time.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"></a> +CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<p> +Then followed four years of hard work. In the neighborhood, Gervaise and +Coupeau had the reputation of being a happy couple, living in retirement +without quarrels, and taking a short walk regularly every Sunday in the +direction of St. Ouen. The wife worked twelve hours a day at Madame +Fauconnier’s, and still found means to keep their lodging as clean and +bright as a new coined sou and to prepare the meals for all her little family, +morning and evening. The husband never got drunk, brought his wages home every +fortnight, and smoked a pipe at his window in the evening, to get a breath of +fresh air before going to bed. They were frequently alluded to on account of +their nice, pleasant ways; and as between them they earned close upon nine +francs a day, it was reckoned that they were able to put by a good deal of +money. +</p> + +<p> +However, during their first months together they had to struggle hard to get +by. Their wedding had left them owing two hundred francs. Also, they detested +the Hotel Boncoeur as they didn’t like the other occupants. Their dream +was to have a home of their own with their own furniture. They were always +figuring how much they would need and decided three hundred and fifty francs at +least, in order to be able to buy little items that came up later. +</p> + +<p> +They were in despair at ever being able to collect such a large sum when a +lucky chance came their way. An old gentleman at Plassans offered to take the +older boy, Claude, and send him to an academy down there. The old man, who +loved art, had previously been much impressed by Claude’s sketches. +Claude had already begun to cost them quite a bit. Now, with only Etienne to +support, they were able to accumulate the money in a little over seven months. +One day they were finally able to buy their own furniture from a second-hand +dealer on Rue Belhomme. Their hearts filled with happiness, they celebrated by +walking home along the exterior Boulevards. +</p> + +<p> +They had purchased a bed, a night table, a chest of drawers with a marble top, +a wardrobe, a round table covered with oilcloth, and six chairs. All were of +dark mahogany. They also bought blankets, linen, and kitchen utensils that were +scarcely used. It meant settling down and giving themselves a status in life as +property owners, as persons to be respected. +</p> + +<p> +For two months past they had been busy seeking some new apartments. At first +they wanted above everything to hire these in the big house of the Rue de la +Goutte-d’Or. But there was not a single room to let there; so that they +had to relinquish their old dream. To tell the truth, Gervaise was rather glad +in her heart; the neighborhood of the Lorilleux almost door to door, frightened +her immensely. Then, they looked about elsewhere. Coupeau, very properly did +not wish to be far from Madame Fauconnier’s so that Gervaise could easily +run home at any hour of the day. And at length they met with exactly what +suited them, a large room with a small closet and a kitchen, in the Rue Neuve +de la Goutte-d’Or, almost opposite the laundress’s. This was in a +small two-story building with a very steep staircase. There were two apartments +on the second floor, one to the left, the other to the right, The ground floor +was occupied by a man who rented out carriages, which filled the sheds in the +large stable yard by the street. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was delighted with this as it made her feel she was back in a country +town. With no close neighbors there would be no gossip to worry about in this +little corner. It reminded her of a small lane outside the ramparts of +Plassans. She could even see her own window while ironing at the laundry by +just tilting her head to the side. +</p> + +<p> +They took possession of their new abode at the April quarter. Gervaise was then +eight months advanced. But she showed great courage, saying with a laugh that +the baby helped her as she worked; she felt its influence growing within her +and giving her strength. Ah, well! She just laughed at Coupeau whenever he +wanted her to lie down and rest herself! She would take to her bed when the +labor pains came. That would be quite soon enough as with another mouth to +feed, they would have to work harder than ever. +</p> + +<p> +She made their new place bright and shiny before helping her husband install +the furniture. She loved the furniture, polishing it and becoming almost +heart-broken at the slightest scratch. Any time she knocked into the furniture +while cleaning she would stop with a sudden shock as though she had hurt +herself. +</p> + +<p> +The chest of drawers was especially dear to her. She thought it handsome, +sturdy and most respectable-looking. The dream that she hadn’t dared to +mention was to get a clock and put it right in the middle of the marble top. It +would make a splendid effect. She probably would have bought one right away +except for the expected baby. +</p> + +<p> +The couple were thoroughly enchanted with their new home. Etienne’s bed +occupied the small closet, where there was still room to put another +child’s crib. The kitchen was a very tiny affair and as dark as night, +but by leaving the door wide open, one could just manage to see; besides, +Gervaise had not to cook meals for thirty people, all she wanted was room to +make her soup. As for the large room, it was their pride. The first thing in +the morning, they drew the curtains of the alcove, white calico curtains; and +the room was thus transformed into a dining-room, with the table in the centre, +and the wardrobe and chest of drawers facing each other. +</p> + +<p> +They stopped up the chimney since it burned as much as fifteen sous of coal a +day. A small cast-iron stove on the marble hearth gave them enough warmth on +cold days for only seven sous. Coupeau had also done his best to decorate the +walls. There was a large engraving showing a marshal of France on horseback +with a baton in his hand. Family photographs were arranged in two rows on top +of the chest of drawers on each side of an old holy-water basin in which they +kept matches. Busts of Pascal and Beranger were on top of the wardrobe. It was +really a handsome room. +</p> + +<p> +“Guess how much we pay here?” Gervaise would ask of every visitor +she had. +</p> + +<p> +And whenever they guessed too high a sum, she triumphed and delighted at being +so well suited for such a little money, cried: +</p> + +<p> +“One hundred and fifty francs, not a sou more! Isn’t it almost like +having it for nothing!” +</p> + +<p> +The street, Rue Neuve de la Goutte d’Or, played an important part in +their contentment. Gervaise’s whole life was there, as she traveled back +and forth endlessly between her home and Madame Fauconnier’s laundry. +Coupeau now went down every evening and stood on the doorstep to smoke his +pipe. The poorly-paved street rose steeply and had no sidewalks. Toward Rue de +la Goutte d’Or there were some gloomy shops with dirty windows. There +were shoemakers, coopers, a run-down grocery, and a bankrupt cafe whose closed +shutters were covered with posters. In the opposite direction, toward Paris, +four-story buildings blocked the sky. Their ground floor shops were all +occupied by laundries with one exception—a green-painted store front +typical of a small-town hair-dresser. Its shop windows were full of variously +colored flasks. It lighted up this drab corner with the gay brightness of its +copper bowls which were always shining. +</p> + +<p> +The most pleasant part of the street was in between, where the buildings were +fewer and lower, letting in more sunlight. The carriage sheds, the plant which +manufactured soda water, and the wash-house opposite made a wide expanse of +quietness. The muffled voices of the washerwomen and the rhythmic puffing of +the steam engine seemed to deepen the almost religious silence. Open fields and +narrow lanes vanishing between dark walls gave it the air of a country village. +Coupeau, always amused by the infrequent pedestrians having to jump over the +continuous streams of soapy water, said it reminded him of a country town where +his uncle had taken him when he was five years old. Gervaise’s greatest +joy was a tree growing in the courtyard to the left of their window, an acacia +that stretched out a single branch and yet, with its meager foliage, lent charm +to the entire street. +</p> + +<p> +It was on the last day of April that Gervaise was confined. The pains came on +in the afternoon, towards four o’clock, as she was ironing a pair of +curtains at Madame Fauconnier’s. She would not go home at once, but +remained there wriggling about on a chair, and continuing her ironing every +time the pain allowed her to do so; the curtains were wanted quickly and she +obstinately made a point of finishing them. Besides, perhaps after all it was +only a colic; it would never do to be frightened by a bit of a stomach-ache. +But as she was talking of starting on some shirts, she became quite pale. She +was obliged to leave the work-shop, and cross the street doubled in two, +holding on to the walls. One of the workwomen offered to accompany her; she +declined, but begged her to go instead for the midwife, close by, in the Rue de +la Charbonniere. This was only a false alarm; there was no need to make a fuss. +She would be like that no doubt all through the night. It was not going to +prevent her getting Coupeau’s dinner ready as soon as she was indoors; +then she might perhaps lie down on the bed a little, but without undressing. On +the staircase she was seized with such a violent pain, that she was obliged to +sit down on one of the stairs; and she pressed her two fists against her mouth +to prevent herself from crying out, for she would have been ashamed to have +been found there by any man, had one come up. The pain passed away; she was +able to open her door, feeling relieved, and thinking that she had decidedly +been mistaken. That evening she was going to make a stew with some neck chops. +All went well while she peeled the potatoes. The chops were cooking in a +saucepan when the pains returned. She mixed the gravy as she stamped about in +front of the stove, almost blinded with her tears. If she was going to give +birth, that was no reason why Coupeau should be kept without his dinner. At +length the stew began to simmer on a fire covered with cinders. She went into +the other room, and thought she would have time to lay the cloth at one end of +the table. But she was obliged to put down the bottle of wine very quickly; she +no longer had strength to reach the bed; she fell prostrate, and she had more +pains on a mat on the floor. When the midwife arrived, a quarter of an hour +later, she found mother and baby lying there on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +The zinc-worker was still employed at the hospital. Gervaise would not have him +disturbed. When he came home at seven o’clock, he found her in bed, well +covered up, looking very pale on the pillow, and the child crying, swathed in a +shawl at its mother’s feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my poor wife!” said Coupeau, kissing Gervaise. “And I +was joking only an hour ago, whilst you were crying with pain! I say, you +don’t make much fuss about it—the time to sneeze and it’s all +over.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled faintly; then she murmured: “It’s a girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right!” the zinc-worker replied, joking so as to enliven her, +“I ordered a girl! Well, now I’ve got what I wanted! You do +everything I wish!” And, taking the child up in his arms, he continued: +“Let’s have a look at you, miss! You’ve got a very black +little mug. It’ll get whiter, never fear. You must be good, never run +about the streets, and grow up sensible like your papa and mamma.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise looked at her daughter very seriously, with wide open eyes, slowly +overshadowed with sadness, for she would rather have had a boy. Boys can talk +care of themselves and don’t have to run such risks on the streets of +Paris as girls do. The midwife took the infant from Coupeau. She forbade +Gervaise to do any talking; it was bad enough there was so much noise around +her. +</p> + +<p> +Then the zinc-worker said that he must tell the news to mother Coupeau and the +Lorilleuxs, but he was dying with hunger, he must first of all have his dinner. +It was a great worry to the invalid to see him have to wait on himself, run to +the kitchen for the stew, eat it out of a soup plate, and not be able to find +the bread. In spite of being told not to do so, she bewailed her condition, and +fidgeted about in her bed. It was stupid of her not to have managed to set the +cloth, the pains had laid her on her back like a blow from a bludgeon. Her poor +old man would not think it kind of her to be nursing herself up there whilst he +was dining so badly. At least were the potatoes cooked enough? She no longer +remembered whether she had put salt in them. +</p> + +<p> +“Keep quiet!” cried the midwife. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! if only you could stop her from wearing herself out!” said +Coupeau with his mouth full. “If you were not here, I’d bet +she’d get up to cut my bread. Keep on your back, you big goose! You +mustn’t move about, otherwise it’ll be a fortnight before +you’ll be able to stand on your legs. Your stew’s very good. Madame +will eat some with me, won’t you, Madame?” +</p> + +<p> +The midwife declined; but she was willing to accept a glass of wine, because it +had upset her, said she to find the poor woman with the baby on the mat. +Coupeau at length went off to tell the news to his relations. Half an hour +later he returned with all of them, mother Coupeau, the Lorilleuxs, and Madame +Lerat, whom he had met at the latter’s. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve brought you the whole gang!” cried Coupeau. “It +can’t be helped! They wanted to see you. Don’t open your mouth, +it’s forbidden. They’ll stop here and look at you without ceremony, +you know. As for me, I’m going to make them some coffee, and of the right +sort!” +</p> + +<p> +He disappeared into the kitchen. Mother Coupeau after kissing Gervaise, became +amazed at the child’s size. The two other women also kissed the invalid +on her cheeks. And all three, standing before the bed, commented with divers +exclamations on the details of the confinement—a most remarkable +confinement, just like having a tooth pulled, nothing more. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lerat examined the baby all over, declared she was well formed, even +added that she could grow up into an attractive woman. Noticing that the head +had been squeezed into a point on top, she kneaded it gently despite the +infant’s cries, trying to round it a bit. Madame Lorilleux grabbed the +baby from her; that could be enough to give the poor little thing all sorts of +vicious tendencies, meddling with it like that while her skull was still soft. +She then tried to figure out who the baby resembled. This almost led to a +quarrel. Lorilleux, peering over the women’s shoulders, insisted that the +little girl didn’t look the least bit like Coupeau. Well, maybe a little +around the nose, nothing more. She was her mother all over again, with big eyes +like hers. Certainly there were no eyes like that in the Coupeau family. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau, however, had failed to reappear. One could hear him in the kitchen +struggling with the grate and the coffee-pot. Gervaise was worrying herself +frightfully; it was not the proper thing for a man to make coffee; and she +called and told him what to do, without listening to the midwife’s +energetic “hush!” +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are!” said Coupeau, entering with the coffee-pot in his +hand. “Didn’t I just have a bother with it! It all went wrong on +purpose! Now we’ll drink out of glasses, won’t we? Because you +know, the cups are still at the shop.” +</p> + +<p> +They seated themselves around the table, and the zinc-worker insisted on +pouring out the coffee himself. It smelt very strong, it was none of that weak +stuff. When the midwife had sipped hers up, she went off; everything was going +on nicely, she was not required. If the young woman did not pass a good night +they were to send for her on the morrow. She was scarcely down the staircase, +when Madame Lorilleux called her a glutton and a good-for-nothing. She put four +lumps of sugar in her coffee, and charged fifteen francs for leaving you with +your baby all by yourself. But Coupeau took her part; he would willingly fork +out the fifteen francs. After all those sort of women spent their youth in +studying, they were right to charge a good price. +</p> + +<p> +It was then Lorilleux who got into a quarrel with Madame Lerat by maintaining +that, in order to have a son, the head of the bed should be turned to the +north. She shrugged her shoulders at such nonsense, offering another formula +which consisted in hiding under the mattress, without letting your wife know, a +handful of fresh nettles picked in bright sunlight. +</p> + +<p> +The table had been pushed over close to the bed. Until ten o’clock +Gervaise lay there, smiling although she was only half awake. She was becoming +more and more weary, her head turned sideways on the pillow. She no longer had +the energy to venture a remark or a gesture. It seemed to her that she was +dead, a very sweet death, from the depths of which she was happy to observe the +others still in the land of the living. The thin cries of her baby daughter +rose above the hum of heavy voices that were discussing a recent murder on Rue +du Bon Puits, at the other end of La Chapelle. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as the visitors were thinking of leaving, they spoke of the christening. +The Lorilleux had promised to be godfather and godmother; they looked very glum +over the matter. However, if they had not been asked to stand they would have +felt rather peculiar. Coupeau did not see any need for christening the little +one; it certainly would not procure her an income of ten thousand francs, and +besides she might catch a cold from it. The less one had to do with priests the +better. But mother Coupeau called him a heathen. The Lorilleux, without going +and eating consecrated bread in church, plumed themselves on their religious +sentiments. +</p> + +<p> +“It shall be next Sunday, if you like,” said the chainmaker. +</p> + +<p> +And Gervaise having consented by a nod, everyone kissed her and told her to +take good care of herself. They also wished the baby good-bye. Each one went +and leant over the little trembling body with smiles and loving words as though +she were able to understand. They called her Nana, the pet name for Anna, which +was her godmother’s name. +</p> + +<p> +“Good night, Nana. Come be a good girl, Nana.” +</p> + +<p> +When they had at length gone off, Coupeau drew his chair close up to the bed +and finished his pipe, holding Gervaise’s hand in his. He smoked slowly, +deeply affected and uttering sentences between the puffs. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, old woman, they’ve made your head ache, haven’t they? +You see I couldn’t prevent them coming. After all, it shows their +friendship. But we’re better alone, aren’t we? I wanted to be alone +like this with you. It has seemed such a long evening to me! Poor little thing, +she’s had a lot to go through! Those shrimps, when they come out into the +world, have no idea of the pain they cause. It must really almost be like being +split in two. Where does it hurt the most, that I may kiss it and make it +well?” +</p> + +<p> +He had carefully slid one of his big hands under her back, and now he drew her +toward him, bending over to kiss her stomach through the covers, touched by a +rough man’s compassion for the suffering of a woman in childbirth. He +inquired if he was hurting her. Gervaise felt very happy, and answered him that +it didn’t hurt any more at all. She was only worried about getting up as +soon as possible, because there was no time to lie about now. He assured her +that he’d be responsible for earning the money for the new little one. He +would be a real bum if he abandoned her and the little rascal. The way he +figured it, what really counted was bringing her up properly. Wasn’t that +so? +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau did not sleep much that night. He covered up the fire in the stove. +Every hour he had to get up to give the baby spoonfuls of lukewarm sugar and +water. That did not prevent his going off to his work in the morning as usual. +He even took advantage of his lunch-hour to make a declaration of the birth at +the mayor’s. During this time Madame Boche, who had been informed of the +event, had hastened to go and pass the day with Gervaise. But the latter, after +ten hours of sleep, bewailed her position, saying that she already felt pains +all over her through having been so long in bed. She would become quite ill if +they did not let her get up. In the evening, when Coupeau returned home, she +told him all her worries; no doubt she had confidence in Madame Boche, only it +put her beside herself to see a stranger installed in her room, opening the +drawers, and touching her things. +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow the concierge, on returning from some errand, found her up, +dressed, sweeping and getting her husband’s dinner ready; and it was +impossible to persuade her to go to bed again. They were trying to make a fool +of her perhaps! It was all very well for ladies to pretend to be unable to +move. When one was not rich one had no time for that sort of thing. Three days +after her confinement she was ironing petticoats at Madame Fauconnier’s, +banging her irons and all in a perspiration from the great heat of the stove. +</p> + +<p> +On the Saturday evening, Madame Lorilleux brought her presents for her +godchild—a cup that cost thirty-five sous, and a christening dress, +plaited and trimmed with some cheap lace, which she had got for six francs, +because it was slightly soiled. On the morrow, Lorilleux, as godfather, gave +the mother six pounds of sugar. They certainly did things properly! At the +baptism supper which took place at the Coupeaus that evening, they did not come +empty-handed. Lorilleux carried a bottle of fine wine under each arm and his +wife brought a large custard pie from a famous pastry shop on Chaussee +Clignancourt. But the Lorilleuxs made sure that the entire neighborhood knew +they had spent twenty francs. As soon as Gervaise learned of their gossiping, +furious, she stopped giving them credit for generosity. +</p> + +<p> +It was at the christening feast that the Coupeaus ended by becoming intimately +acquainted with their neighbors on the opposite side of the landing. The other +lodging in the little house was occupied by two persons, mother and son, the +Goujets as they were called. Until then the two families had merely nodded to +each other on the stairs and in the street, nothing more; the Coupeaus thought +their neighbors seemed rather bearish. Then the mother, having carried up a +pail of water for Gervaise on the morrow of her confinement, the latter had +thought it the proper thing to invite them to the feast, more especially as she +considered them very respectable people. And naturally, they there became well +acquainted with each other. +</p> + +<p> +The Goujets came from the Departement du Nord. The mother mended lace; the son, +a blacksmith, worked at an iron bolt factory. They had lived in their lodging +for five years. Behind the quiet peacefulness of their life, a long standing +sorrow was hidden. Goujet the father, one day when furiously drunk at Lille, +had beaten a comrade to death with an iron bar and had afterwards strangled +himself in prison with his handkerchief. The widow and child, who had come to +Paris after their misfortune, always felt the tragedy hanging over their heads, +and atoned for it by a strict honesty and an unvarying gentleness and courage. +They had a certain amount of pride in their attitude and regarded themselves as +better than other people. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Goujet, dressed in black as usual, her forehead framed in a nun’s +hood, had a pale, calm, matronly face, as if the whiteness of the lace and the +delicate work of her fingers had cast a glow of serenity over her. Goujet was +twenty-three years old, huge, magnificently built, with deep blue eyes and rosy +cheeks, and the strength of Hercules. His comrades at the shop called him +“Golden Mouth” because of his handsome blonde beard. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise at once felt a great friendship for these people. When she entered +their home for the first time, she was amazed at the cleanliness of the +lodging. There was no denying it, one might blow about the place without +raising a grain of dust; and the tiled floor shone like a mirror. Madame Goujet +made her enter her son’s room, just to see it. It was pretty and white +like the room of a young girl; an iron bedstead with muslin curtains, a table, +a washstand, and a narrow bookcase hanging against the wall. Then there were +pictures all over the place, figures cut out, colored engravings nailed up with +four tacks, and portraits of all kinds of persons taken from the illustrated +papers. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Goujet said with a smile that her son was a big baby. He found that +reading in the evening put him to sleep, so he amused himself looking at +pictures. Gervaise spent an hour with her neighbor without noticing the passing +of time. Madame Goujet had gone to sit by the window and work on her lace. +Gervaise was fascinated by the hundreds of pins that held the lace, and she +felt happy to be there, breathing in the good clean atmosphere of this home +where such a delicate task enforced a sort of meditative silence. +</p> + +<p> +The Goujets were worth visiting. They worked long hours, and placed more than a +quarter of their fortnight’s earnings in the savings-bank. In the +neighborhood everyone nodded to them, everyone talked of their savings. Goujet +never had a hole in his clothes, always went out in a clean short blue blouse, +without a stain. He was very polite, and even a trifle timid, in spite of his +broad shoulders. The washerwomen at the end of the street laughed to see him +hold down his head when he passed them. He did not like their oaths, and +thought it disgusting that women should be constantly uttering foul words. One +day, however, he came home tipsy. Then Madame Goujet, for sole reproach, held +his father’s portrait before him, a daub of a painting hidden away at the +bottom of a drawer; and, ever since that lesson, Goujet never drank more than +was good for him, without however, any hatred of wine, for wine is necessary to +the workman. On Sundays he walked out with his mother, who took hold of his +arm. He would generally conduct her to Vincennes; at other times they would go +to the theatre. His mother remained his passion. He still spoke to her as +though he were a little child. Square-headed, his skin toughened by the +wielding of the heavy hammer, he somewhat resembled the larger animals: dull of +intellect, though good-natured all the same. +</p> + +<p> +In the early days of their acquaintance, Gervaise embarrassed him immensely. +Then in a few weeks he became accustomed to her. He watched for her that he +might carry up her parcels, treated her as a sister, with an abrupt +familiarity, and cut out pictures for her. One morning, however, having opened +her door without knocking, he beheld her half undressed, washing her neck; and, +for a week, he did not dare to look her in the face, so much so that he ended +by making her blush herself. +</p> + +<p> +Young Cassis, with the casual wit of a born Parisian, called Golden Mouth a +dolt. It was all right not to get drunk all the time or chase women, but still, +a man must be a man, or else he might as well wear skirts. Coupeau teased him +in front of Gervaise, accusing him of making up to all the women in the +neighborhood. Goujet vigorously defended himself against the charge. +</p> + +<p> +But this didn’t prevent the two workingmen from becoming best of friends. +They went off to work together in the mornings and sometimes had a glass of +beer together on the way home. +</p> + +<p> +It eventually came about that Golden Mouth could render a service to Young +Cassis, one of those favors that is remembered forever. +</p> + +<p> +It was the second of December. The zinc-worker decided, just for the fun of it, +to go into the city and watch the rioting. He didn’t really care about +the Republic, or Napoleon or anything like that, but he liked the smell of +gunpowder and the sound of the rifles firing. He would have been arrested as a +rioter if the blacksmith hadn’t turned up at the barricade at just that +moment and helped him escape. Goujet was very serious as they walked back up +the Rue du Faubourg Poissonniere. He was interested in politics and believed in +the Republic. But he had never fired a gun because the common people were +getting tired of fighting battles for the middle classes who always seemed to +get the benefit of them. +</p> + +<p> +As they reached the top of the slope of the Rue du Faubourg Poissonniere, +Goujet turned to look back at Paris and the mobs. After all, some day people +would be sorry that they just stood by and did nothing. Coupeau laughed at +this, saying you would be pretty stupid to risk your neck just to preserve the +twenty-five francs a day for the lazybones in the Legislative Assembly. That +evening the Coupeaus invited the Goujets to dinner. After desert Young Cassis +and Golden Mouth kissed each other on the cheek. Their lives were joined till +death. +</p> + +<p> +For three years the existence of the two families went on, on either side of +the landing, without an event. Gervaise was able to take care of her daughter +and still work most of the week. She was now a skilled worker on fine laundry +and earned up to three francs a day. She decided to put Etienne, now nearly +eight, into a small boarding-school on Rue de Chartres for five francs a week. +Despite the expenses for the two children, they were able to save twenty or +thirty francs each month. Once they had six hundred francs saved, Gervaise +often lay awake thinking of her ambitious dream: she wanted to rent a small +shop, hire workers, and go into the laundry business herself. If this effort +worked, they would have a steady income from savings in twenty years. They +could retire and live in the country. +</p> + +<p> +Yet she hesitated, saying she was looking for the right shop. She was giving +herself time to think it over. Their savings were safe in the bank, and growing +larger. So, in three years’ time she had only fulfilled one of her +dreams—she had bought a clock. But even this clock, made of rosewood with +twined columns and a pendulum of gilded brass, was being paid for in +installments of twenty-two sous each Monday for a year. She got upset if +Coupeau tried to wind it; she liked to be the only one to lift off the glass +dome. It was under the glass dome, behind the clock, that she hid her bank +book. Sometimes, when she was dreaming of her shop, she would stare fixedly at +the clock, lost in thought. +</p> + +<p> +The Coupeaus went out nearly every Sunday with the Goujets. They were pleasant +little excursions, sometimes to have some fried fish at Saint-Ouen, at others a +rabbit at Vincennes, in the garden of some eating-house keeper without any +grand display. The men drank sufficient to quench their thirst, and returned +home as right as nine-pins, giving their arms to the ladies. In the evening +before going to bed, the two families made up accounts and each paid half the +expenses; and there was never the least quarrel about a sou more or less. +</p> + +<p> +The Lorilleuxs became jealous of the Goujets. It seemed strange to them to see +Young Cassis and Clump-clump going places all the time with strangers instead +of their own relations. But, that’s the way it was; some folks +didn’t care a bit about their family. Now that they had saved a few sous, +they thought they were really somebody. Madame Lorilleux was much annoyed to +see her brother getting away from her influence and begin to continually run +down Gervaise to everyone. On the other hand, Madame Lerat took the young +wife’s side. Mother Coupeau tried to get along with everybody. She only +wanted to be welcomed by all three of her children. Now that her eyesight was +getting dimmer and dimmer she only had one regular house cleaning job but she +was able to pick up some small jobs now and again. +</p> + +<p> +On the day on which Nana was three years old, Coupeau, on returning home in the +evening, found Gervaise quite upset. She refused to talk about it; there was +nothing at all the matter with her, she said. But, as she had the table all +wrong, standing still with the plates in her hands, absorbed in deep +reflection, her husband insisted upon knowing what was the matter. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it is this,” she ended by saying, “the little +draper’s shop in the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or, is to let. I saw it +only an hour ago, when going to buy some cotton. It gave me quite a +turn.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a very decent shop, and in that big house where they dreamed of living +in former days. There was the shop, a back room, and two other rooms to the +right and left; in short, just what they required. The rooms were rather small, +but well placed. Only, she considered they wanted too much; the landlord talked +of five hundred francs. +</p> + +<p> +“So you’ve been over the place, and asked the price?” said +Coupeau. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! you know, only out of curiosity!” replied she, affecting an +air of indifference. “One looks about, and goes in wherever there’s +a bill up—that doesn’t bind one to anything. But that shop is +altogether too dear. Besides, it would perhaps be foolish of me to set up in +business.” +</p> + +<p> +However, after dinner, she again referred to the draper’s shop. She drew +a plan of the place on the margin of a newspaper. And, little by little, she +talked it over, measuring the corners, and arranging the rooms, as though she +were going to move all her furniture in there on the morrow. Then Coupeau +advised her to take it, seeing how she wanted to do so; she would certainly +never find anything decent under five hundred francs; besides they might +perhaps get a reduction. He knew only one objection to it and that was living +in the same house as the Lorilleux, whom she could not bear. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise declared that she wasn’t mad at anybody. So much did she want +her own shop that she even spoke up for the Lorilleuxs, saying that they +weren’t mean at heart and that she would be able to get along just fine +with them. When they went to bed, Coupeau fell asleep immediately, but she +stayed awake, planning how she could arrange the new place even though she +hadn’t yet made up her mind completely. +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow, when she was alone, she could not resist removing the glass +cover from the clock, and taking a peep at the savings-bank book. To think that +her shop was there, in those dirty pages, covered with ugly writing! Before +going off to her work, she consulted Madame Goujet, who highly approved her +project of setting up in business for herself; with a husband like hers, a good +fellow who did not drink, she was certain of getting on, and of not having her +earnings squandered. At the luncheon hour Gervaise even called on the +Lorilleuxs to ask their advice; she did not wish to appear to be doing anything +unknown to the family. Madame Lorilleux was struck all of a heap. What! +Clump-clump was going in for a shop now! And her heart bursting with envy, she +stammered, and tried to pretend to be pleased: no doubt the shop was a +convenient one—Gervaise was right in taking it. However, when she had +somewhat recovered, she and her husband talked of the dampness of the +courtyard, of the poor light of the rooms on the ground floor. Oh! it was a +good place for rheumatism. Yet, if she had made up her mind to take it, their +observations, of course, would not make her alter her decision. +</p> + +<p> +That evening Gervaise frankly owned with a laugh that she would have fallen ill +if she had been prevented from having the shop. Nevertheless, before saying +“it’s done!” she wished to take Coupeau to see the place, and +try and obtain a reduction in the rent. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, then, to-morrow, if you like,” said her husband. +“You can come and fetch me towards six o’clock at the house where +I’m working, in the Rue de la Nation, and we’ll call in at the Rue +de la Goutte-d’Or on our way home.” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau was then finishing the roofing of a new three-storied house. It so +happened that on that day he was to fix the last sheets of zinc. As the roof +was almost flat, he had set up his bench on it, a wide shutter supported on two +trestles. A beautiful May sun was setting, giving a golden hue to the +chimney-pots. And, right up at the top, against the clear sky, the workman was +quietly cutting up his zinc with a big pair of shears, leaning over the bench, +and looking like a tailor in his shop cutting out a pair of trousers. Close to +the wall of the next house, his boy, a youngster of seventeen, thin and fair, +was keeping the fire of the chafing dish blazing by the aid of an enormous pair +of bellows, each puff of which raised a cloud of sparks. +</p> + +<p> +“Hi! Zidore, put in the irons!” cried Coupeau. +</p> + +<p> +The boy stuck the soldering irons into the midst of the charcoal, which looked +a pale rose color in the daylight. Then he resumed blowing. Coupeau held the +last sheet of zinc. It had to be placed at the edge of the roof, close to the +gutter-pipe; there was an abrupt slant there, and the gaping void of the street +opened beneath. The zinc-worker, just as though in his own home, wearing his +list-shoes, advanced, dragging his feet, and whistling the air, “Oh! the +little lambs.” Arrived in front of the opening, he let himself down, and +then, supporting himself with one knee against the masonry of a chimney-stack, +remained half-way out over the pavement below. One of his legs dangled. When he +leant back to call that young viper, Zidore, he held on to a corner of the +masonry, on account of the street beneath him. +</p> + +<p> +“You confounded dawdler! Give me the irons! It’s no use looking up +in the air, you skinny beggar! The larks won’t tumble into your mouth +already cooked!” +</p> + +<p> +But Zidore did not hurry himself. He was interested in the neighboring roofs, +and in a cloud of smoke which rose from the other side of Paris, close to +Grenelle; it was very likely a fire. However, he came and laid down on his +stomach, his head over the opening, and he passed the irons to Coupeau. Then +the latter commenced to solder the sheet. He squatted, he stretched, always +managing to balance himself, sometimes seated on one side, at other times +standing on the tip of one foot, often only holding on by a finger. He had a +confounded assurance, the devil’s own cheek, familiar with danger, and +braving it. It knew him. It was the street that was afraid, not he. As he kept +his pipe in his mouth, he turned round every now and then to spit onto the +pavement. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, there’s Madame Boche,” he suddenly exclaimed and +called down to her. “Hi! Madame Boche.” +</p> + +<p> +He had just caught sight of the concierge crossing the road. She raised her +head and recognised him, and a conversation ensued between them. She hid her +hands under her apron, her nose elevated in the air. He, standing up now, his +left arm passed round a chimney-pot, leant over. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you seen my wife?” asked he. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I haven’t,” replied the concierge. “Is she around +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s coming to fetch me. And are they all well at home?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, yes, thanks; I’m the most ill, as you see. I’m going to +the Chaussee Clignancourt to buy a small leg of mutton. The butcher near the +Moulin-Rouge only charges sixteen sous.” +</p> + +<p> +They raised their voices, because a vehicle was passing. In the wide, deserted +Rue de la Nation, their words, shouted out with all their might, had only +caused a little old woman to come to her window; and this little old woman +remained there leaning out, giving herself the treat of a grand emotion by +watching that man on the roof over the way, as though she expected to see him +fall, from one minute to another. +</p> + +<p> +“Well! Good evening,” cried Madame Boche. “I won’t +disturb you.” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau turned round, and took back the iron that Zidore was holding for him. +But just as the concierge was moving off, she caught sight of Gervaise on the +other side of the way, holding Nana by the hand. She was already raising her +head to tell the zinc-worker, when the young woman closed her mouth by an +energetic gesture, and, in a low voice, so as not to be heard up there, she +told her of her fear: she was afraid, by showing herself suddenly, of giving +her husband a shock which might make him lose his balance. During the four +years, she had only been once to fetch him at his work. That day was the second +time. She could not witness it, her blood turned cold when she beheld her old +man between heaven and earth, in places where even the sparrows would not +venture. +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt, it’s not pleasant,” murmured Madame Boche. +“My husband’s a tailor, so I have none of these terrors.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you only knew, in the early days,” said Gervaise again, +“I had frights from morning till night. I was always seeing him on a +stretcher, with his head smashed. Now, I don’t think of it so much. One +gets used to everything. Bread must be earned. All the same, it’s a +precious dear loaf, for one risks one’s bones more than is fair.” +</p> + +<p> +And she left off speaking, hiding Nana in her skirt, fearing a cry from the +little one. Very pale, she looked up in spite of herself. At that moment +Coupeau was soldering the extreme edge of the sheet close to the gutter; he +slid down as far as possible, but without being able to reach the edge. Then, +he risked himself with those slow movements peculiar to workmen. For an instant +he was immediately over the pavement, no long holding on, all absorbed in his +work; and, from below, one could see the little white flame of the solder +frizzling up beneath the carefully wielded iron. Gervaise, speechless, her +throat contracted with anguish, had clasped her hands together, and held them +up in mechanical gesture of prayer. But she breathed freely as Coupeau got up +and returned back along the roof, without hurrying himself, and taking the time +to spit once more into the street. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! ah! so you’ve been playing the spy on me!” cried he, +gaily, on beholding her. “She’s been making a stupid of herself, +eh, Madame Boche? She wouldn’t call to me. Wait a bit, I shall have +finished in ten minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +All that remained to do was to fix the top of the chimney—a mere nothing. +The laundress and the concierge waited on the pavement, discussing the +neighborhood, and giving an eye to Nana, to prevent her from dabbling in the +gutter, where she wanted to look for little fishes; and the two women kept +glancing up at the roof, smiling and nodding their heads, as though to imply +that they were not losing patience. The old woman opposite had not left her +window, had continued watching the man, and waiting. +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever can she have to look at, that old she-goat?” said Madame +Boche. “What a mug she has!” +</p> + +<p> +One could hear the loud voice of the zinc-worker up above singing, “Ah! +it’s nice to gather strawberries!” Bending over his bench, he was +now artistically cutting out his zinc. With his compasses he traced a line, and +he detached a large fan-shaped piece with the aid of a pair of curved shears; +then he lightly bent this fan with his hammer into the form of a pointed +mushroom. Zidore was again blowing the charcoal in the chafing-dish. The sun +was setting behind the house in a brilliant rosy light, which was gradually +becoming paler, and turning to a delicate lilac. And, at this quiet hour of the +day, right up against the sky, the silhouettes of the two workmen, looking +inordinately large, with the dark line of the bench, and the strange profile of +the bellows, stood out from the limpid back-ground of the atmosphere. +</p> + +<p> +When the chimney-top was got into shape, Coupeau called out: “Zidore! The +irons!” +</p> + +<p> +But Zidore had disappeared. The zinc-worker swore, and looked about for him, +even calling him through the open skylight of the loft. At length he discovered +him on a neighboring roof, two houses off. The young rogue was taking a walk, +exploring the environs, his fair scanty locks blowing in the breeze, his eyes +blinking as they beheld the immensity of Paris. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, lazy bones! Do you think you’re having a day in the +country?” asked Coupeau, in a rage. “You’re like Monsieur +Beranger, composing verses, perhaps! Will you give me those irons! Did any one +ever see such a thing! Strolling about on the house-tops! Why not bring your +sweetheart at once, and tell her of your love? Will you give me those irons? +You confounded little shirker!” +</p> + +<p> +He finished his soldering, and called to Gervaise: “There, it’s +done. I’m coming down.” +</p> + +<p> +The chimney-pot to which he had to fix the flue was in the middle of the roof. +Gervaise, who was no longer uneasy, continued to smile as she followed his +movements. Nana, amused all on a sudden by the view of her father, clapped her +little hands. She had seated herself on the pavement to see the better up +there. +</p> + +<p> +“Papa! Papa!” called she with all her might. “Papa! Just +look!” +</p> + +<p> +The zinc-worker wished to lean forward, but his foot slipped. Then suddenly, +stupidly, like a cat with its legs entangled, he rolled and descended the +slight slope of the roof without being able to grab hold of anything. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mon Dieu</i>,” he cried in a choked voice. +</p> + +<p> +And he fell. His body described a gentle curve, turned twice over on itself, +and came smashing into the middle of the street with the dull thud of a bundle +of clothes thrown from on high. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, stupefied, her throat rent by one great cry, stood holding up her +arms. Some passers-by hastened to the spot; a crowd soon formed. Madame Boche, +utterly upset, her knees bending under her, took Nana in her arms, to hide her +head and prevent her seeing. Meanwhile, the little old woman opposite quietly +closed her window, as though satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +Four men ended by carrying Coupeau into a chemist’s, at the corner of the +Rue des Poissonniers; and he remained there on a blanket, in the middle of the +shop, whilst they sent to the Lariboisiere Hospital for a stretcher. He was +still breathing. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, sobbing, was kneeling on the floor beside him, her face smudged with +tears, stunned and unseeing. Her hands would reach to feel her husband’s +limbs with the utmost gentleness. Then she would draw back as she had been +warned not to touch him. But a few seconds later she would touch him to assure +herself that he was still warm, feeling somehow that she was helping him. +</p> + +<p> +When the stretcher at length arrived, and they talked of starting for the +hospital, she got up, saying violently: +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, not to the hospital! We live in the Rue Neuve de la +Goutte-d’Or.” +</p> + +<p> +It was useless for them to explain to her that the illness would cost her a +great deal of money, if she took her husband home. She obstinately repeated: +</p> + +<p> +“Rue Neuve de la Goutte-d’Or; I will show you the house. What can +it matter to you? I’ve got money. He’s my husband, isn’t he? +He’s mine, and I want him at home.” +</p> + +<p> +And they had to take Coupeau to his own home. When the stretcher was carried +through the crowd which was crushing up against the chemist’s shop, the +women of the neighborhood were excitedly talking of Gervaise. She limped, the +dolt, but all the same she had some pluck. She would be sure to save her old +man; whilst at the hospital the doctors let the patients die who were very bad, +so as not to have the bother of trying to cure them. Madame Boche, after taking +Nana home with her, returned, and gave her account of the accident, with +interminable details, and still feeling agitated with the emotion she had +passed through. +</p> + +<p> +“I was going to buy a leg of mutton; I was there, I saw him fall,” +repeated she. “It was all through the little one; he turned to look at +her, and bang! Ah! good heavens! I never want to see such a sight again. +However, I must be off to get my leg of mutton.” +</p> + +<p> +For a week Coupeau was very bad. The family, the neighbors, everyone, expected +to see him turn for the worse at any moment. The doctor—a very expensive +doctor, who charged five francs for each visit—apprehended internal +injuries, and these words filled everyone with fear. It was said in the +neighborhood that the zinc-worker’s heart had been injured by the shock. +Gervaise alone, looking pale through her nights of watching, serious and +resolute, shrugged her shoulders. Her old man’s right leg was broken, +everyone knew that; it would be set for him, and that was all. As for the rest, +the injured heart, that was nothing. She knew how to restore a heart with +ceaseless care. She was certain of getting him well and displayed magnificent +faith. She stayed close by him and caressed him gently during the long bouts of +fever without a moment of doubt. She was on her feet continuously for a whole +week, completely absorbed by her determination to save him. She forgot the +street outside, the entire city, and even her own children. On the ninth day, +the doctor finally said that Coupeau would live. Gervaise collapsed into a +chair, her body limp from fatigue. That night she consented to sleep for two +hours with her head against the foot of the bed. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau’s accident had created quite a commotion in the family. Mother +Coupeau passed the nights with Gervaise; but as early as nine o’clock she +fell asleep on a chair. Every evening, on returning from work, Madame Lerat +went a long round out of her way to inquire how her brother was getting on. At +first the Lorilleuxs had called two or three times a day, offering to sit up +and watch, and even bringing an easy-chair for Gervaise. Then it was not long +before there were disputes as to the proper way to nurse invalids. Madame +Lorilleux said that she had saved enough people’s lives to know how to go +about it. She accused the young wife of pushing her aside, of driving her away +from her own brother’s bed. Certainly that Clump-clump ought to be +concerned about Coupeau’s getting well, for if she hadn’t gone to +Rue de la Nation to disturb him at his job, he would never had fallen. Only, +the way she was taking care of him, she would certainly finish him. +</p> + +<p> +When Gervaise saw that Coupeau was out of danger, she ceased guarding his +bedside with so much jealous fierceness. Now, they could no longer kill him, +and she let people approach without mistrust. The family invaded the room. The +convalescence would be a very long one; the doctor had talked of four months. +Then, during the long hours the zinc-worker slept, the Lorilleux talked of +Gervaise as of a fool. She hadn’t done any good by having her husband at +home. At the hospital they would have cured him twice as quickly. Lorilleux +would have liked to have been ill, to have caught no matter what, just to show +her that he did not hesitate for a moment to go to Lariboisiere. Madame +Lorilleux knew a lady who had just come from there. Well! She had had chicken +to eat morning and night. +</p> + +<p> +Again and again the two of them went over their estimate of how much four +months of convalescence would cost; workdays lost, the doctor and the +medicines, and afterward good wine and fresh meat. If the Coupeaus only used up +their small savings, they would be very lucky indeed. They would probably have +to go into debt. Well, that was to be expected and it was their business. They +had no right to expect any help from the family, which couldn’t afford +the luxury of keeping an invalid at home. It was just Clump-clump’s bad +luck, wasn’t it? Why couldn’t she have done as others did and let +her man be taken to hospital? This just showed how stuck up she was. +</p> + +<p> +One evening Madame Lorilleux had the spitefulness to ask Gervaise suddenly: +</p> + +<p> +“Well! And your shop, when are you going to take it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” chuckled Lorilleux, “the landlord’s still +waiting for you.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was astonished. She had completely forgotten the shop; but she saw the +wicked joy of those people, at the thought that she would no longer be able to +take it, and she was bursting with anger. From that evening, in fact, they +watched for every opportunity to twit her about her hopeless dream. When any +one spoke of some impossible wish, they would say that it might be realized on +the day that Gervaise started in business, in a beautiful shop opening onto the +street. And behind her back they would laugh fit to split their sides. She did +not like to think such an unkind thing, but, really, the Lorilleuxs now seemed +to be very pleased at Coupeau’s accident, as it prevented her setting up +as a laundress in the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or. +</p> + +<p> +Then she also wished to laugh, and show them how willingly she parted with the +money for the sake of curing her husband. Each time she took the savings-bank +book from beneath the glass clock-tower in their presence, she would say gaily: +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going out; I’m going to rent my shop.” +</p> + +<p> +She had not been willing to withdraw the money all at once. She took it out a +hundred francs at a time, so as not to keep such a pile of gold and silver in +her drawer; then, too, she vaguely hoped for some miracle, some sudden +recovery, which would enable them not to part with the entire sum. At each +journey to the savings-bank, on her return home, she added up on a piece of +paper the money they had still left there. It was merely for the sake of order. +Their bank account might be getting smaller all the time, yet she went on with +her quiet smile and common-sense attitude, keeping the account straight. It was +a consolation to be able to use this money for such a good purpose, to have had +it when faced with their misfortune. +</p> + +<p> +While Coupeau was bed-ridden the Goujets were very kind to Gervaise. Madame +Goujet was always ready to assist. She never went to shop without stopping to +ask Gervaise if there was anything she needed, sugar or butter or salt. She +always brought over hot bouillon on the evenings she cooked <i>pot au feu</i>. +Sometimes, when Gervaise seemed to have too much to do, Madame Goujet helped +her do the dishes, or cleaned the kitchen herself. Goujet took her water pails +every morning and filled them at the tap on Rue des Poissonniers, saving her +two sous a day. After dinner, if no family came to visit, the Goujets would +come over to visit with the Coupeaus. +</p> + +<p> +Until ten o’clock, the blacksmith would smoke his pipe and watch Gervaise +busy with her invalid. He would not speak ten words the entire evening. He was +moved to pity by the sight of her pouring Coupeau’s tea and medicine into +a cup, or stirring the sugar in it very carefully so as to make no sound with +the spoon. It stirred him deeply when she would lean over Coupeau and speak in +her soft voice. Never before had he known such a fine woman. Her limp increased +the credit due her for wearing herself out doing things for her husband all day +long. She never sat down for ten minutes, not even to eat. She was always +running to the chemist’s. And then she would still keep the house clean, +not even a speck of dust. She never complained, no matter how exhausted she +became. Goujet developed a very deep affection for Gervaise in this atmosphere +of unselfish devotion. +</p> + +<p> +One day he said to the invalid, “Well, old man, now you’re patched +up again! I wasn’t worried about you. Your wife works miracles.” +</p> + +<p> +Goujet was supposed to be getting married. His mother had found a suitable +girl, a lace-mender like herself, whom she was urging him to marry. He had +agreed so as not to hurt her feelings and the wedding had been set for early +September. Money had long since been saved to set them up in housekeeping. +However, when Gervaise referred to his coming marriage, he shook his head, +saying, “Not every woman is like you, Madame Coupeau. If all women were +like you, I’d marry ten of them.” +</p> + +<p> +At the end of two months, Coupeau was able to get up. He did not go far, only +from the bed to the window, and even then Gervaise had to support him. There he +would sit down in the easy-chair the Lorilleuxs had brought, with his right leg +stretched out on a stool. This joker, who used to laugh at the people who +slipped down on frosty days, felt greatly put out by his accident. He had no +philosophy. He had spent those two months in bed, in cursing, and in worrying +the people about him. It was not an existence, really, to pass one’s life +on one’s back, with a pin all tied up and as stiff as a sausage. Ah, he +certainly knew the ceiling by heart; there was a crack, at the corner of the +alcove, that he could have drawn with his eyes shut. Then, when he was made +comfortable in the easy-chair, it was another grievance. Would he be fixed +there for long, just like a mummy? +</p> + +<p> +Nobody ever passed along the street, so it was no fun to watch. Besides, it +stank of bleach water all day. No, he was just growing old; he’d have +given ten years of his life just to go see how the fortifications were getting +along. He kept going on about his fate. It wasn’t right, what had +happened to him. A good worker like him, not a loafer or a drunkard, he could +have understood in that case. +</p> + +<p> +“Papa Coupeau,” said he, “broke his neck one day that +he’d been boozing. I can’t say that it was deserved, but anyhow it +was explainable. I had had nothing since my lunch, was perfectly quiet, and +without a drop of liquor in my body; and yet I came to grief just because I +wanted to turn round to smile at Nana! Don’t you think that’s too +much? If there is a providence, it certainly arranges things in a very peculiar +manner. I, for one, shall never believe in it.” +</p> + +<p> +And when at last he was able to use his legs, he retained a secret grudge +against work. It was a handicraft full of misfortunes to pass one’s days, +like the cats, on the roofs of the houses. The employers were no fools! They +sent you to your death—being far too cowardly to venture themselves on a +ladder—and stopped at home in safety at their fire-sides without caring a +hang for the poorer classes; and he got to the point of saying that everyone +ought to fix the zinc himself on his own house. <i>Mon Dieu</i>! It was the +only fair way to do it! If you don’t want the rain to come in, do the +work yourself. He regretted he hadn’t learned another trade, something +more pleasant, something less dangerous, maybe cabinetmaking. It was really his +father’s fault. Lots of fathers have the foolish habit of shoving their +sons into their own line of work. +</p> + +<p> +For another two months Coupeau hobbled about on crutches. He had first of all +managed to get as far as the street, and smoke his pipe in front of the door. +Then he had managed to reach the exterior Boulevard, dragging himself along in +the sunshine, and remaining for hours on one of the seats. Gaiety returned to +him; his infernal tongue got sharper in these long hours of idleness. And with +the pleasure of living, he gained there a delight in doing nothing, an indolent +feeling took possession of his limbs, and his muscles gradually glided into a +very sweet slumber. It was the slow victory of laziness, which took advantage +of his convalescence to obtain possession of his body and unnerve him with its +tickling. He regained his health, as thorough a banterer as before, thinking +life beautiful, and not seeing why it should not last for ever. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as he could get about without the crutches, he made longer walks, often +visiting construction jobs to see old comrades. He would stand with his arms +folded, sneering and shaking his head, ridiculing the workers slaving at the +job, stretching out his leg to show them what you got for wearing yourself out. +Being able to stand about and mock others while they were working satisfied his +spite against hard work. No doubt he’d have to go back to it, but +he’d put it off as long as possible. He had a reason now to be lazy. +Besides, it seemed good to him to loaf around like a bum! +</p> + +<p> +On the afternoons when Coupeau felt dull, he would call on the Lorilleuxs. The +latter would pity him immensely, and attract him with all sorts of amiable +attentions. During the first years following his marriage, he had avoided them, +thanks to Gervaise’s influence. Now they regained their sway over him by +twitting him about being afraid of his wife. He was no man, that was evident! +The Lorilleuxs, however, showed great discretion, and were loud in their praise +of the laundress’s good qualities. Coupeau, without as yet coming to +wrangling, swore to the latter that his sister adored her, and requested that +she would behave more amiably to her. The first quarrel which the couple had +occurred one evening on account of Etienne. The zinc-worker had passed the +afternoon with the Lorilleuxs. On arriving home, as the dinner was not quite +ready, and the children were whining for their soup, he suddenly turned upon +Etienne, and boxed his ears soundly. And during an hour he did not cease to +grumble; the brat was not his; he did not know why he allowed him to be in the +place; he would end by turning him out into the street. Up till then he had +tolerated the youngster without all that fuss. On the morrow he talked of his +dignity. Three days after, he kept kicking the little fellow, morning and +evening, so much so that the child, whenever he heard him coming, bolted into +the Goujets’ where the old lace-mender kept a corner of the table clear +for him to do his lessons. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise had for some time past, returned to work. She no longer had the +trouble of looking under the glass cover of the clock; all the savings were +gone; and she had to work hard, work for four, for there were four to feed now. +She alone maintained them. Whenever she heard people pitying her, she at once +found excuses for Coupeau. Recollect! He had suffered so much; it was not +surprising if his disposition had soured! But it would pass off when his health +returned. And if any one hinted that Coupeau seemed all right again, that he +could very well return to work, she protested: No, no; not yet! She did not +want to see him take to his bed again. They would allow her to know best what +the doctor said, perhaps! It was she who prevented him returning to work, +telling him every morning to take his time and not to force himself. She even +slipped twenty sou pieces into his waistcoat pocket. Coupeau accepted this as +something perfectly natural. He was always complaining of aches and pains so +that she would coddle him. At the end of six months he was still convalescing. +</p> + +<p> +Now, whenever he went to watch others working, he was always ready to join his +comrades in downing a shot. It wasn’t so bad, after all. They had their +fun, and they never stayed more than five minutes. That couldn’t hurt +anybody. Only a hypocrite would say he went in because he wanted a drink. No +wonder they had laughed at him in the past. A glass of wine never hurt anybody. +He only drank wine though, never brandy. Wine never made you sick, didn’t +get you drunk, and helped you to live longer. Soon though, several times, after +a day of idleness in going from one building job to another, he came home half +drunk. On those occasions Gervaise pretended to have a terrible headache and +kept their door closed so that the Goujets wouldn’t hear Coupeau’s +drunken babblings. +</p> + +<p> +Little by little, the young woman lost her cheerfulness. Morning and evening +she went to the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or to look at the shop, which was +still to be let; and she would hide herself as though she were committing some +childish prank unworthy of a grown-up person. This shop was beginning to turn +her brain. At night-time, when the light was out she experienced the charm of +some forbidden pleasure by thinking of it with her eyes open. She again made +her calculations; two hundred and fifty francs for the rent, one hundred and +fifty francs for utensils and moving, one hundred francs in hand to keep them +going for a fortnight—in all five hundred francs at the very lowest +figure. If she was not continually thinking of it aloud, it was for fear she +should be suspected of regretting the savings swallowed up by Coupeau’s +illness. She often became quite pale, having almost allowed her desire to +escape her and catching back her words, quite confused as though she had been +thinking of something wicked. Now they would have to work for four or five +years before they would succeed in saving such a sum. Her regret was at not +being able to start in business at once; she would have earned all the home +required, without counting on Coupeau, letting him take months to get into the +way of work again; she would no longer have been uneasy, but certain of the +future and free from the secret fears which sometimes seized her when he +returned home very gay and singing, and relating some joke of that animal +My-Boots, whom he had treated to a drink. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, Gervaise being at home alone, Goujet entered, and did not hurry +off again, according to his habit. He seated himself, and smoked as he watched +her. He probably had something very serious to say; he thought it over, let it +ripen without being able to put it into suitable words. At length, after a long +silence, he appeared to make up his mind, and took his pipe out of his mouth to +say all in a breath: +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Gervaise, will you allow me to lend you some money?” +</p> + +<p> +She was leaning over an open drawer, looking for some dish-cloths. She got up, +her face very red. He must have seen her then, in the morning, standing in +ecstacy before the shop for close upon ten minutes. He was smiling in an +embarrassed way, as though he had made some insulting proposal. But she hastily +refused. Never would she accept money from any one without knowing when she +would be able to return it. Then also it was a question of too large an amount. +And as he insisted, in a frightened manner, she ended by exclaiming: +</p> + +<p> +“But your marriage? I certainly can’t take the money you’ve +been saving for your marriage!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, don’t let that bother you,” he replied, turning red in +his turn. “I’m not going to be married now. That was just an idea, +you know. Really, I would much sooner lend you the money.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they both held down their heads. There was something very pleasant between +them to which they did not give expression. And Gervaise accepted. Goujet had +told his mother. They crossed the landing, and went to see her at once. The +lace-mender was very grave, and looked rather sad as she bent her face over her +tambour-frame. She would not thwart her son, but she no longer approved +Gervaise’s project; and she plainly told her why. Coupeau was going to +the bad; Coupeau would swallow up her shop. She especially could not forgive +the zinc-worker for having refused to learn to read during his convalescence. +The blacksmith had offered to teach him, but the other had sent him to the +right about, saying that learning made people get thin. This had almost caused +a quarrel between the two workmen; each went his own way. Madame Goujet, +however, seeing her big boy’s beseeching glances, behaved very kindly to +Gervaise. It was settled that they would lend their neighbors five hundred +francs; the latter were to repay the amount by installments of twenty francs a +month; it would last as long as it lasted. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, the blacksmith’s sweet on you,” exclaimed Coupeau, +laughing, when he heard what had taken place. “Oh, I’m quite easy; +he’s too big a muff. We’ll pay him back his money. But, really, if +he had to deal with some people, he’d find himself pretty well +duped.” +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow the Coupeaus took the shop. All day long, Gervaise was running +from Rue Neuve de la Goutte-d’Or. When the neighbors beheld her pass +thus, nimble and delighted to the extent that she no longer limped, they said +she must have undergone some operation. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"></a> +CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<p> +It so happened that the Boches had left the Rue des Poissonniers at the April +quarter, and were now taking charge of the great house in the Rue de la +Goutte-d’Or. It was a curious coincidence, all the same! One thing that +worried Gervaise who had lived so quietly in her lodgings in the Rue Neuve, was +the thought of again being under the subjection of some unpleasant person, with +whom she would be continually quarrelling, either on account of water spilt in +the passage or of a door shut too noisily at night-time. Concierges are such a +disagreeable class! But it would be a pleasure to be with the Boches. They knew +one another—they would always get on well together. It would be just like +members of the same family. +</p> + +<p> +On the day the Coupeaus went to sign their lease, Gervaise felt her heart +swollen with pride as she passed through the high doorway. She was then at +length going to live in that house as vast as a little town, with its +interminable staircases, and passages as long and winding as streets. She was +excited by everything: the gray walls with varicolored rugs hanging from +windows to dry in the sun, the dingy courtyard with as many holes in its +pavement as a public square, the hum of activity coming through the walls. She +felt joy that she was at last about to realize her ambition. She also felt fear +that she would fail and be crushed in the endless struggle against the poverty +and starvation she could feel breathing down her neck. It seemed to her that +she was doing something very bold, throwing herself into the midst of some +machinery in motion, as she listened to the blacksmith’s hammers and the +cabinetmakers’ planes, hammering and hissing in the depths of the +work-shops on the ground floor. On that day the water flowing from the +dyer’s under the entrance porch was a very pale apple green. She +smilingly stepped over it; to her the color was a pleasant omen. +</p> + +<p> +The meeting with the landlord was to take place in the Boches’ room. +Monsieur Marescot, a wealthy cutler of the Rue de la Paix, had at one time +turned a grindstone through the streets. He was now stated to be worth several +millions. He was a man of fifty-five, large and big-boned. Even though he now +wore a decoration in his button-hole, his huge hands were still those of a +former workingman. It was his joy to carry off the scissors and knives of his +tenants, to sharpen them himself, for the fun of it. He often stayed for hours +with his concierges, closed up in the darkness of their lodges, going over the +accounts. That’s where he did all his business. He was now seated by +Madame Boche’s kitchen table, listening to her story of how the +dressmaker on the third floor, staircase A, had used a filthy word in refusing +to pay her rent. He had had to work precious hard once upon a time. But work +was the high road to everything. And, after counting the two hundred and fifty +francs for the first two quarters in advance, and dropping them into his +capacious pocket, he related the story of his life, and showed his decoration. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, however, felt rather ill at ease on account of the Boches’ +behavior. They pretended not to know her. They were most assiduous in their +attentions to the landlord, bowing down before him, watching for his least +words, and nodding their approval of them. Madame Boche suddenly ran out and +dispersed a group of children who were paddling about in front of the cistern, +the tap of which they had turned full on, causing the water to flow over the +pavement; and when she returned, upright and severe in her skirts, crossing the +courtyard and glancing slowly up at all the windows, as though to assure +herself of the good behavior of the household, she pursed her lips in a way to +show with what authority she was invested, now that she reigned over three +hundred tenants. Boche again spoke of the dressmaker on the second floor; he +advised that she should be turned out; he reckoned up the number of quarters +she owed with the importance of a steward whose management might be +compromised. Monsieur Marescot approved the suggestion of turning her out, but +he wished to wait till the half quarter. It was hard to turn people out into +the street, more especially as it did not put a sou into the landlord’s +pocket. And Gervaise asked herself with a shudder if she too would be turned +out into the street the day that some misfortune rendered her unable to pay. +</p> + +<p> +The concierge’s lodge was as dismal as a cellar, black from smoke and +crowded with dark furniture. All the sunlight fell upon the tailor’s +workbench by the window. An old frock coat that was being reworked lay on it. +The Boches’ only child, a four-year-old redhead named Pauline, was +sitting on the floor, staring quietly at the veal simmering on the stove, +delighted with the sharp odor of cooking that came from the frying pan. +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Marescot again held out his hand to the zinc-worker, when the latter +spoke of the repairs, recalling to his mind a promise he had made to talk the +matter over later on. But the landlord grew angry, he had never promised +anything; besides, it was not usual to do any repairs to a shop. However, he +consented to go over the place, followed by the Coupeaus and Boche. The little +linen-draper had carried off all his shelves and counters; the empty shop +displayed its blackened ceiling and its cracked wall, on which hung strips of +an old yellow paper. In the sonorous emptiness of the place, there ensued a +heated discussion. Monsieur Marescot exclaimed that it was the business of +shopkeepers to embellish their shops, for a shopkeeper might wish to have gold +put about everywhere, and he, the landlord, could not put out gold. Then he +related that he had spent more than twenty thousand francs in fitting up his +premises in the Rue de la Paix. Gervaise, with her woman’s obstinacy, +kept repeating an argument which she considered unanswerable. He would repaper +a lodging, would he not? Then, why did he not treat the shop the same as a +lodging? She did not ask him for anything else—only to whitewash the +ceiling, and put some fresh paper on the walls. +</p> + +<p> +Boche, all this while, remained dignified and impenetrable; he turned about and +looked up in the air, without expressing an opinion. Coupeau winked at him in +vain; he affected not to wish to take advantage of his great influence over the +landlord. He ended, however, by making a slight grimace—a little smile +accompanied by a nod of the head. Just then Monsieur Marescot, exasperated, and +seemingly very unhappy, and clutching his fingers like a miser being despoiled +of his gold, was giving way to Gervaise, promising to do the ceiling and +repaper the shop on condition that she paid for half of the paper. And he +hurried away declining to discuss anything further. +</p> + +<p> +Now that Boche was alone with the Coupeaus, the concierge became quite +talkative and slapped them on the shoulders. Well, well, see what they had +gotten. Without his help, they would never have gotten the concessions. +Didn’t they notice how the landlord had looked to him out of the corner +of his eye for advice and how he’d made up his mind suddenly when he saw +Boche smile? He confessed to them confidentially that he was the real boss of +the building. It was he who decided who got eviction notices and who could +become tenants. He collected all the rents and kept them for a couple of weeks +in his bureau drawer. +</p> + +<p> +That evening the Coupeaus, to express their gratitude to the Boches, sent them +two bottles of wine as a present. +</p> + +<p> +The following Monday the workmen started doing up the shop. The purchasing of +the paper turned out especially to be a very big affair. Gervaise wanted a grey +paper with blue flowers, so as to enliven and brighten the walls. Boche offered +to take her to the dealers, so that she might make her own selection. But the +landlord had given him formal instructions not to go beyond the price of +fifteen sous the piece. They were there an hour. The laundress kept looking in +despair at a very pretty chintz pattern costing eighteen sous the piece, and +thought all the other papers hideous. At length the concierge gave in; he would +arrange the matter, and, if necessary, would make out there was a piece more +used than was really the case. So, on her way home, Gervaise purchased some +tarts for Pauline. She did not like being behindhand—one always gained by +behaving nicely to her. +</p> + +<p> +The shop was to be ready in four days. The workmen were there three weeks. At +first it was arranged that they should merely wash the paint. But this paint, +originally maroon, was so dirty and so sad-looking, that Gervaise allowed +herself to be tempted to have the whole of the frontage painted a light blue +with yellow moldings. Then the repairs seemed as though they would last for +ever. Coupeau, as he was still not working, arrived early each morning to see +how things were going. Boche left the overcoat or trousers on which he was +working to come and supervise. Both of them would stand and watch with their +hands behind their backs, puffing on their pipes. +</p> + +<p> +The painters were very merry fellows who would often desert their work to stand +in the middle of the shop and join the discussion, shaking their heads for +hours, admiring the work already done. The ceiling had been whitewashed +quickly, but the paint on the walls never seemed to dry in a hurry. +</p> + +<p> +Around nine o’clock the painters would arrive with their paint pots which +they stuck in a corner. They would look around and then disappear. Perhaps they +went to eat breakfast. Sometimes Coupeau would take everyone for a +drink—Boche, the two painters and any of Coupeau’s friends who were +nearby. This meant another afternoon wasted. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise’s patience was thoroughly exhausted, when, suddenly, everything +was finished in two days, the paint varnished, the paper hung, and the dirt all +cleared away. The workmen had finished it off as though they were playing, +whistling away on their ladders, and singing loud enough to deafen the whole +neighborhood. +</p> + +<p> +The moving in took place at once. During the first few days Gervaise felt as +delighted as a child. Whenever she crossed the road on returning from some +errand, she lingered to smile at her home. From a distance her shop appeared +light and gay with its pale blue signboard, on which the word +“Laundress” was painted in big yellow letters, amidst the dark row +of the other frontages. In the window, closed in behind by little muslin +curtains, and hung on either side with blue paper to show off the whiteness of +the linen, some shirts were displayed, with some women’s caps hanging +above them on wires. She thought her shop looked pretty, being the same color +as the heavens. +</p> + +<p> +Inside there was more blue; the paper, in imitation of a Pompadour chintz, +represented a trellis overgrown with morning-glories. A huge table, taking up +two-thirds of the room, was her ironing-table. It was covered with thick +blanketing and draped with a strip of cretonne patterned with blue flower +sprays that hid the trestles beneath. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was enchanted with her pretty establishment and would often seat +herself on a stool and sigh with contentment, delighted with all the new +equipment. Her first glance always went to the cast-iron stove where the irons +were heated ten at a time, arranged over the heat on slanting rests. She would +kneel down to look into the stove to make sure the apprentice had not put in +too much coke. +</p> + +<p> +The lodging at the back of the shop was quite decent. The Coupeaus slept in the +first room, where they also did the cooking and took their meals; a door at the +back opened on to the courtyard of the house. Nana’s bed was in the right +hand room, which was lighted by a little round window close to the ceiling. As +for Etienne, he shared the left hand room with the dirty clothes, enormous +bundles of which lay about on the floor. However, there was one +disadvantage—the Coupeaus would not admit it at first—but the damp +ran down the walls, and it was impossible to see clearly in the place after +three o’clock in the afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +In the neighborhood the new shop produced a great sensation. The Coupeaus were +accused of going too fast, and making too much fuss. They had, in fact, spent +the five hundred francs lent by the Goujets in fitting up the shop and in +moving, without keeping sufficient to live upon for a fortnight, as they had +intended doing. The morning that Gervaise took down her shutters for the first +time, she had just six francs in her purse. But that did not worry her, +customers began to arrive, and things seemed promising. A week later on the +Saturday, before going to bed, she remained two hours making calculations on a +piece of paper, and she awoke Coupeau to tell him, with a bright look on her +face, that there were hundreds and thousands of francs to be made, if they were +only careful. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well!” said Madame Lorilleux all over the Rue de la +Goutte-d’Or, “my fool of a brother is seeing some funny things! All +that was wanting was that Clump-clump should go about so haughty. It becomes +her well, doesn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +The Lorilleuxs had declared a feud to the death against Gervaise. To begin +with, they had almost died of rage during the time while the repairs were being +done to the shop. If they caught sight of the painters from a distance, they +would walk on the other side of the way, and go up to their rooms with their +teeth set. A blue shop for that “nobody,” it was enough to +discourage all honest, hard-working people! Besides, the second day after the +shop opened the apprentice happened to throw out a bowl of starch just at the +moment when Madame Lorilleux was passing. The zinc-worker’s sister caused +a great commotion in the street, accusing her sister-in-law of insulting her +through her employees. This broke off all relations. Now they only exchanged +terrible glares when they encountered each other. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she leads a pretty life!” Madame Lorilleux kept saying. +“We all know where the money came from that she paid for her wretched +shop! She borrowed it from the blacksmith; and he springs from a nice family +too! Didn’t the father cut his own throat to save the guillotine the +trouble of doing so? Anyhow, there was something disreputable of that +sort!” +</p> + +<p> +She bluntly accused Gervaise of flirting with Goujet. She lied—she +pretended she had surprised them together one night on a seat on the exterior +Boulevards. The thought of this liaison, of pleasures that her sister-in-law +was no doubt enjoying, exasperated her still more, because of her own ugly +woman’s strict sense of propriety. Every day the same cry came from her +heart to her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“What does she have, that wretched cripple, for people to fall in love +with her? Why doesn’t any one want me?” +</p> + +<p> +She busied herself in endless gossiping among the neighbors. She told them the +whole story. The day the Coupeaus got married she turned up her nose at her. +Oh, she had a keen nose, she could smell in advance how it would turn out. +Then, Clump-clump pretended to be so sweet, what a hypocrite! She and her +husband had only agreed to be Nana’s godparents for the sake of her +brother. What a bundle it had cost, that fancy christening. If Clump-clump were +on her deathbed she wouldn’t give her a glass of water, no matter how +much she begged. +</p> + +<p> +She didn’t want anything to do with such a shameless baggage. Little Nana +would always be welcome when she came up to see her godparents. The child +couldn’t be blamed for her mother’s sins. But there was no use +trying to tell Coupeau anything. Any real man in his situation would have +beaten his wife and put a stop to it all. All they wanted was for him to insist +on respect for his family. <i>Mon Dieu</i>! If she, Madame Lorilleux, had acted +like that, Coupeau wouldn’t be so complacent. He would have stabbed her +for sure with his shears. +</p> + +<p> +The Boches, however, who sternly disapproved of quarrels in their building, +said that the Lorilleuxs were in the wrong. The Lorilleuxs were no doubt +respectable persons, quiet, working the whole day long, and paying their rent +regularly. But, really, jealousy had driven them mad. And they were mean enough +to skin an egg, real misers. They were so stingy that they’d hide their +bottle when any one came in, so as not to have to offer a glass of +wine—not regular people at all. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise had brought over cassis and soda water one day to drink with the +Boches. When Madame Lorilleux went by, she acted out spitting before the +concierge’s door. Well, after that when Madame Boche swept the corridors +on Saturdays, she always left a pile of trash before the Lorilleuxs’ +door. +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t to be wondered at!” Madame Lorilleux would exclaim, +“Clump-clump’s always stuffing them, the gluttons! Ah! +they’re all alike; but they had better not annoy me! I’ll complain +to the landlord. Only yesterday I saw that sly old Boche chasing after Madame +Gaudron’s skirts. Just fancy! A woman of that age, and who has half a +dozen children, too; it’s positively disgusting! If I catch them at +anything of the sort again, I’ll tell Madame Boche, and she’ll give +them both a hiding. It’ll be something to laugh at.” +</p> + +<p> +Mother Coupeau continued to visit the two houses, agreeing with everybody and +even managing to get asked oftener to dinner, by complaisantly listening one +night to her daughter and the next night to her daughter-in-law. +</p> + +<p> +However, Madame Lerat did not go to visit the Coupeaus because she had argued +with Gervaise about a Zouave who had cut the nose of his mistress with a razor. +She was on the side of the Zouave, saying it was evidence of a great passion, +but without explaining further her thought. Then, she had made Madame Lorilleux +even more angry by telling her that Clump-clump had called her “Cow +Tail” in front of fifteen or twenty people. Yes, that’s what the +Boches and all the neighbors called her now, “Cow Tail.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise remained calm and cheerful among all these goings-on. She often stood +by the door of her shop greeting friends who passed by with a nod and a smile. +It was her pleasure to take a moment between batches of ironing to enjoy the +street and take pride in her own stretch of sidewalk. +</p> + +<p> +She felt that the Rue de la Goutte d’Or was hers, and the neighboring +streets, and the whole neighborhood. As she stood there, with her blonde hair +slightly damp from the heat of the shop, she would look left and right, taking +in the people, the buildings, and the sky. To the left Rue de la Goutte +d’Or was peaceful and almost empty, like a country town with women idling +in their doorways. While, to the right, only a short distance away, Rue des +Poissonniers had a noisy throng of people and vehicles. +</p> + +<p> +The stretch of gutter before her own shop became very important in her mind. It +was like a wide river which she longed to see neat and clean. It was a lively +river, colored by the dye shop with the most fanciful of hues which contrasted +with the black mud beside it. +</p> + +<p> +Then there were the shops: a large grocery with a display of dried fruits +protected by mesh nets; a shop selling work clothes which had white tunics and +blue smocks hanging before it with arms that waved at the slightest breeze. +Cats were purring on the counters of the fruit store and the tripe shop. Madame +Vigouroux, the coal dealer next door, returned her greetings. She was a plump, +short woman with bright eyes in a dark face who was always joking with the men +while standing at her doorway. Her shop was decorated in imitation of a rustic +chalet. The neighbors on the other side were a mother and daughter, the +Cudorges. The umbrella sellers kept their door closed and never came out to +visit. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise always looked across the road, too, through the wide carriage entrance +of the windowless wall opposite her, at the blacksmith’s forge. The +courtyard was cluttered with vans and carts. Inscribed on the wall was the word +“Blacksmith.” +</p> + +<p> +At the lower end of the wall between the small shops selling scrap iron and +fried potatoes was a watchmaker. He wore a frock coat and was always very neat. +His cuckoo clocks could be heard in chorus against the background noise of the +street and the blacksmith’s rhythmic clanging. +</p> + +<p> +The neighborhood in general thought Gervaise very nice. There was, it is true, +a good deal of scandal related regarding her; but everyone admired her large +eyes, small mouth and beautiful white teeth. In short she was a pretty blonde, +and had it not been for her crippled leg she might have ranked amongst the +comeliest. She was now in her twenty-eighth year, and had grown considerably +plumper. Her fine features were becoming puffy, and her gestures were assuming +a pleasant indolence. +</p> + +<p> +At times she occasionally seemed to forget herself on the edge of a chair, +whilst she waited for her iron to heat, smiling vaguely and with an expression +of greedy joy upon her face. She was becoming fond of good living, everybody +said so; but that was not a very grave fault, but rather the contrary. When one +earns sufficient to be able to buy good food, one would be foolish to eat +potato parings. All the more so as she continued to work very hard, slaving to +please her customers, sitting up late at night after the place was closed, +whenever there was anything urgent. +</p> + +<p> +She was lucky as all her neighbors said; everything prospered with her. She did +the washing for all the house—M. Madinier, Mademoiselle Remanjou, the +Boches. She even secured some of the customers of her old employer, Madame +Fauconnier, Parisian ladies living in the Rue du Faubourg-Poissonniere. As +early as the third week she was obliged to engage two workwomen, Madame Putois +and tall Clemence, the girl who used to live on the sixth floor; counting her +apprentice, that little squint-eyed Augustine, who was as ugly as a +beggar’s behind, that made three persons in her employ. Others would +certainly have lost their heads at such a piece of good fortune. It was +excusable for her to slack a little on Monday after drudging all through the +week. Besides, it was necessary to her. She would have had no courage left, and +would have expected to see the shirts iron themselves, if she had not been able +to dress up in some pretty thing. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was always so amiable, meek as a lamb, sweet as sugar. There +wasn’t any one she disliked except Madame Lorilleux. While she was +enjoying a good meal and coffee, she could be indulgent and forgive everybody +saying: “We have to forgive each other—don’t we?—unless +we want to live like savages.” Hadn’t all her dreams come true? She +remembered her old dream: to have a job, enough bread to eat and a corner in +which to sleep, to bring up her children, not to be beaten, and to die in her +own bed. She had everything she wanted now and more than she had ever expected. +She laughed, thinking of delaying dying in her own bed as long as possible. +</p> + +<p> +It was to Coupeau especially that Gervaise behaved nicely. Never an angry word, +never a complaint behind her husband’s back. The zinc-worker had at +length resumed work; and as the job he was engaged on was at the other side of +Paris, she gave him every morning forty sous for his luncheon, his glass of +wine and his tobacco. Only, two days out of every six, Coupeau would stop on +the way, spend the forty sous in drink with a friend, and return home to lunch, +with some cock-and-bull story. Once even he did not take the trouble to go far; +he treated himself, My-Boots and three others to a regular feast—snails, +roast meat, and some sealed bottles of wine—at the +“Capuchin,” on the Barriere de la Chapelle. Then, as his forty sous +were not sufficient, he had sent the waiter to his wife with the bill and the +information that he was in pawn. She laughed and shrugged her shoulders. Where +was the harm if her old man amused himself a bit? You must give men a long rein +if you want to live peaceably at home. From one word to another, one soon +arrived at blows. <i>Mon Dieu</i>! It was easy to understand. Coupeau still +suffered from his leg; besides, he was led astray. He was obliged to do as the +others did, or else he would be thought a cheap skate. And it was really a +matter of no consequence. If he came home a bit elevated, he went to bed, and +two hours afterwards he was all right again. +</p> + +<p> +It was now the warm time of the year. One June afternoon, a Saturday when there +was a lot of work to get through, Gervaise herself had piled the coke into the +stove, around which ten irons were heating, whilst a rumbling sound issued from +the chimney. At that hour the sun was shining full on the shop front, and the +pavement reflected the heat waves, causing all sorts of quaint shadows to dance +over the ceiling, and that blaze of light which assumed a bluish tinge from the +color of the paper on the shelves and against the window, was almost blinding +in the intensity with which it shone over the ironing-table, like a golden dust +shaken among the fine linen. The atmosphere was stifling. The shop door was +thrown wide open, but not a breath of air entered; the clothes which were hung +up on brass wires to dry, steamed and became as stiff as shavings in less than +three quarters of an hour. For some little while past an oppressive silence had +reigned in that furnace-like heat, interrupted only by the smothered sound of +the banging down of the irons on the thick blanket covered with calico. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well!” said Gervaise, “it’s enough to melt one! We +might have to take off our chemises.” +</p> + +<p> +She was sitting on the floor, in front of a basin, starching some things. Her +sleeves were rolled up and her camisole was slipping down her shoulders. Little +curls of golden hair were stuck to her skin by perspiration. She carefully +dipped caps, shirt-fronts, entire petticoats, and the trimmings of +women’s drawers into the milky water. Then she rolled the things up and +placed them at the bottom of a square basket, after dipping her hand in a pail +and shaking it over the portions of the shirts and drawers which she had not +starched. +</p> + +<p> +“This basketful’s for you, Madame Putois,” she said. +“Look sharp, now! It dries at once, and will want doing all over again in +an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Putois, a thin little woman of forty-five, was ironing. Though she was +buttoned up in an old chestnut-colored dress, there was not a drop of +perspiration to be seen. She had not even taken her cap off, a black cap +trimmed with green ribbons turned partly yellow. And she stood perfectly +upright in front of the ironing-table, which was too high for her, sticking out +her elbows, and moving her iron with the jerky evolutions of a puppet. On a +sudden she exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, no! Mademoiselle Clemence, you mustn’t take your camisole off. +You know I don’t like such indecencies. Whilst you’re about it, +you’d better show everything. There’s already three men over the +way stopping to look.” +</p> + +<p> +Tall Clemence called her an old beast between her teeth. She was suffocating; +she might certainly make herself comfortable; everyone was not gifted with a +skin as dry as touchwood. Besides no one could see anything; and she held up +her arms, whilst her opulent bosom almost ripped her chemise, and her shoulders +were bursting through the straps. At the rate she was going, Clemence was not +likely to have any marrow left in her bones long before she was thirty years +old. Mornings after big parties she was unable to feel the ground she trod +upon, and fell asleep over her work, whilst her head and her stomach seemed as +though stuffed full of rags. But she was kept on all the same, for no other +workwoman could iron a shirt with her style. Shirts were her specialty. +</p> + +<p> +“This is mine, isn’t it?” she declared, tapping her bosom. +“And it doesn’t bite; it hurts nobody!” +</p> + +<p> +“Clemence, put your wrapper on again,” said Gervaise. “Madame +Putois is right, it isn’t decent. People will begin to take my house for +what it isn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +So tall Clemence dressed herself again, grumbling the while. “<i>Mon +Dieu!</i> There’s prudery for you.” +</p> + +<p> +And she vented her rage on the apprentice, that squint-eyed Augustine who was +ironing some stockings and handkerchiefs beside her. She jostled her and pushed +her with her elbow; but Augustine who was of a surly disposition, and slyly +spiteful in the way of an animal and a drudge, spat on the back of the +other’s dress just out of revenge, without being seen. Gervaise, during +this incident, had commenced a cap belonging to Madame Boche, which she +intended to take great pains with. She had prepared some boiled starch to make +it look new again. She was gently passing a little iron rounded at both ends +over the inside of the crown of the cap, when a bony-looking woman entered the +shop, her face covered with red blotches and her skirts sopping wet. It was a +washerwoman who employed three assistants at the wash-house in the Rue de la +Goutte-d’Or. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve come too soon, Madame Bijard!” cried Gervaise. +“I told you to call this evening. I’m too busy to attend to you +now!” +</p> + +<p> +But as the washerwoman began lamenting and fearing that she would not be able +to put all the things to soak that day, she consented to give her the dirty +clothes at once. They went to fetch the bundles in the left hand room where +Etienne slept, and returned with enormous armfuls which they piled up on the +floor at the back of the shop. The sorting lasted a good half hour. Gervaise +made heaps all round her, throwing the shirts in one, the chemises in another, +the handkerchiefs, the socks, the dish-cloths in others. Whenever she came +across anything belonging to a new customer, she marked it with a cross in red +cotton thread so as to know it again. And from all this dirty linen which they +were throwing about there issued an offensive odor in the warm atmosphere. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! La, la. What a stench!” said Clemence, holding her nose. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course there is! If it were clean they wouldn’t send it to +us,” quietly explained Gervaise. “It smells as one would expect it +to, that’s all! We said fourteen chemises, didn’t we, Madame +Bijard? Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen—” +</p> + +<p> +And she continued counting aloud. Used to this kind of thing she evinced no +disgust. She thrust her bare pink arms deep into the piles of laundry: shirts +yellow with grime, towels stiff from dirty dish water, socks threadbare and +eaten away by sweat. The strong odor which slapped her in the face as she +sorted the piles of clothes made her feel drowsy. She seemed to be intoxicating +herself with this stench of humanity as she sat on the edge of a stool, bending +far over, smiling vaguely, her eyes slightly misty. It was as if her laziness +was started by a kind of smothering caused by the dirty clothes which poisoned +the air in the shop. Just as she was shaking out a child’s dirty diaper, +Coupeau came in. +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove!” he stuttered, “what a sun! It shines full on your +head!” +</p> + +<p> +The zinc-worker caught hold of the ironing-table to save himself from falling. +It was the first time he had been so drunk. Until then he had sometimes come +home slightly tipsy, but nothing more. This time, however, he had a black eye, +just a friendly slap he had run up against in a playful moment. His curly hair, +already streaked with grey, must have dusted a corner in some low wineshop, for +a cobweb was hanging to one of his locks over the back of his neck. He was +still as attractive as ever, though his features were rather drawn and aged, +and his under jaw projected more; but he was always lively, as he would +sometimes say, with a complexion to be envied by a duchess. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll just explain it to you,” he resumed, addressing +Gervaise. +</p> + +<p> +“It was Celery-Root, you know him, the bloke with a wooden leg. Well, as +he was going back to his native place, he wanted to treat us. Oh! We were all +right, if it hadn’t been for that devil of a sun. In the street everybody +looks shaky. Really, all the world’s drunk!” +</p> + +<p> +And as tall Clemence laughed at his thinking that the people in the street were +drunk, he was himself seized with an intense fit of gaiety which almost +strangled him. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at them! The blessed tipplers! Aren’t they funny?” he +cried. “But it’s not their fault. It’s the sun that’s +causing it.” +</p> + +<p> +All the shop laughed, even Madame Putois, who did not like drunkards. That +squint-eyed Augustine was cackling like a hen, suffocating with her mouth wide +open. Gervaise, however, suspected Coupeau of not having come straight home, +but of having passed an hour with the Lorilleuxs who were always filling his +head with unpleasant ideas. When he swore he had not been near them she laughed +also, full of indulgence and not even reproaching him with having wasted +another day. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mon Dieu!</i> What nonsense he does talk,” she murmured. +“How does he manage to say such stupid things?” Then in a maternal +tone of voice she added, “Now go to bed, won’t you? You see +we’re busy; you’re in our way. That makes thirty-two handkerchiefs, +Madame Bijard; and two more, thirty-four.” +</p> + +<p> +But Coupeau was not sleepy. He stood there wagging his body from side to side +like the pendulum of a clock and chuckling in an obstinate and teasing manner. +Gervaise, wanting to finish with Madame Bijard, called to Clemence to count the +laundry while she made the list. Tall Clemence made a dirty remark about every +item that she touched. She commented on the customers’ misfortunes and +their bedroom adventures. She had a wash-house joke for every rip or stain that +passed through her hands. Augustine pretended that she didn’t understand, +but her ears were wide open. Madame Putois compressed her lips, thinking it a +disgrace to say such things in front of Coupeau. It’s not a man’s +business to have anything to do with dirty linen. It’s just not done +among decent people. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, serious and her mind fully occupied with what she was about, did not +seem to notice. As she wrote she gave a glance to each article as it passed +before her, so as to recognize it; and she never made a mistake; she guessed +the owner’s name just by the look or the color. Those napkins belonged to +the Goujets, that was evident; they had not been used to wipe out frying-pans. +That pillow-case certainly came from the Boches on account of the pomatum with +which Madame Boche always smeared her things. There was no need to put your +nose close to the flannel vests of Monsieur Madinier; his skin was so oily that +it clogged up his woolens. +</p> + +<p> +She knew many peculiarities, the cleanliness of some, the ragged underclothes +of neighborhood ladies who appeared on the streets in silk dresses; how many +items each family soiled weekly; the way some people’s garments were +always torn at the same spot. Oh, she had many tales to tell. For instance, the +chemises of Mademoiselle Remanjou provided material for endless comments: they +wore out at the top first because the old maid had bony, sharp shoulders; and +they were never really dirty, proving that you dry up by her age, like a stick +of wood out of which it’s hard to squeeze a drop of anything. It was thus +that at every sorting of the dirty linen in the shop they undressed the whole +neighborhood of the Goutte-d’Or. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, here’s something luscious!” cried Clemence, opening +another bundle. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, suddenly seized with a great repugnance, drew back. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Gaudron’s bundle?” said she. “I’ll no +longer wash for her, I’ll find some excuse. No, I’m not more +particular than another. I’ve handled some most disgusting linen in my +time; but really, that lot I can’t stomach. What can the woman do to get +her things into such a state?” +</p> + +<p> +And she requested Clemence to look sharp. But the girl continued her remarks, +thrusting the clothes sullenly about her, with complaints on the soiled caps +she waved like triumphal banners of filth. Meanwhile the heaps around Gervaise +had grown higher. Still seated on the edge of the stool, she was now +disappearing between the petticoats and chemises. In front of her were the +sheets, the table cloths, a veritable mass of dirtiness. +</p> + +<p> +She seemed even rosier and more languid than usual within this spreading sea of +soiled laundry. She had regained her composure, forgetting Madame +Gaudron’s laundry, stirring the various piles of clothing to make sure +there had been no mistake in sorting. Squint-eyed Augustine had just stuffed +the stove so full of coke that its cast-iron sides were bright red. The sun was +shining obliquely on the window; the shop was in a blaze. Then, Coupeau, whom +the great heat intoxicated all the more, was seized with a sudden fit of +tenderness. He advanced towards Gervaise with open arms and deeply moved. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a good wife,” he stammered. “I must kiss +you.” +</p> + +<p> +But he caught his foot in the garments which barred the way and nearly fell. +</p> + +<p> +“What a nuisance you are!” said Gervaise without getting angry. +“Keep still, we’re nearly done now.” +</p> + +<p> +No, he wanted to kiss her. He must do so because he loved her so much. Whilst +he stuttered he tried to get round the heap of petticoats and stumbled against +the pile of chemises; then as he obstinately persisted his feet caught together +and he fell flat, his nose in the midst of the dish-cloths. Gervaise, beginning +to lose her temper pushed him, saying that he was mixing all the things up. But +Clemence and even Madame Putois maintained that she was wrong. It was very nice +of him after all. He wanted to kiss her. She might very well let herself be +kissed. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re lucky, you are, Madame Coupeau,” said Madame Bijard, +whose drunkard of a husband, a locksmith, was nearly beating her to death each +evening when he came in. “If my old man was like that when he’s had +a drop, it would be a real pleasure!” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise had calmed down and was already regretting her hastiness. She helped +Coupeau up on his legs again. Then she offered her cheek with a smile. But the +zinc-worker, without caring a button for the other people being present, seized +her bosom. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not for the sake of saying so,” he murmured; “but +your dirty linen stinks tremendously! Still, I love you all the same, you +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave off, you’re tickling me,” cried she, laughing the +louder. “What a great silly you are! How can you be so absurd?” +</p> + +<p> +He had caught hold of her and would not let her go. She gradually abandoned +herself to him, dizzy from the slight faintness caused by the heap of clothes +and not minding Coupeau’s foul-smelling breath. The long kiss they +exchanged on each other’s mouths in the midst of the filth of the +laundress’s trade was perhaps the first tumble in the slow downfall of +their life together. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Bijard had meanwhile been tying the laundry up into bundles and talking +about her daughter, Eulalie, who at two was as smart as a grown woman. She +could be left by herself; she never cried or played with matches. Finally +Madame Bijard took the laundry away a bundle at a time, her face splotched with +purple and her tall form bent under the weight. +</p> + +<p> +“This heat is becoming unbearable, we’re roasting,” said +Gervaise, wiping her face before returning to Madame Boche’s cap. +</p> + +<p> +They talked of boxing Augustine’s ears when they saw that the stove was +red-hot. The irons, also, were getting in the same condition. She must have the +very devil in her body! One could not turn one’s back a moment without +her being up to some of her tricks. Now they would have to wait a quarter of an +hour before they would be able to use their irons. Gervaise covered the fire +with two shovelfuls of cinders. Then she thought to hang some sheets on the +brass wires near the ceiling to serve as curtains to keep out the sunlight. +</p> + +<p> +Things were now better in the shop. The temperature was still high, but you +could imagine it was cooler. Footsteps could still be heard outside but you +were free to make yourself comfortable. Clemence removed her camisole again. +Coupeau still refused to go to bed, so they allowed him to stay, but he had to +promise to be quiet in a corner, for they were very busy. +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever has that vermin done with my little iron?” murmured +Gervaise, speaking of Augustine. +</p> + +<p> +They were for ever seeking the little iron, which they found in the most +out-of-the-way places, where the apprentice, so they said, hid it out of spite. +Gervaise could now finish Madame Boche’s cap. First she roughly smoothed +the lace, spreading it out with her hand, and then she straightened it up by +light strokes of the iron. It had a very fancy border consisting of narrow +puffs alternating with insertions of embroidery. She was working on it silently +and conscientiously, ironing the puffs and insertions. +</p> + +<p> +Silence prevailed for a time. Nothing was to be heard except the soft thud of +irons on the ironing pad. On both sides of the huge rectangular table Gervaise, +her two employees, and the apprentice were bending over, slaving at their tasks +with rounded shoulders, their arms moving incessantly. Each had a flat brick +blackened by hot irons near her. A soup plate filled with clean water was on +the middle of the table with a moistening rag and a small brush soaking in it. +</p> + +<p> +A bouquet of large white lilies bloomed in what had once been a brandied cherry +jar. Its cluster of snowy flowers suggested a corner of a royal garden. Madame +Putois had begun the basket that Gervaise had brought to her filled with +towels, wrappers, cuffs and underdrawers. Augustine was dawdling with the +stockings and washcloths, gazing into the air, seemingly fascinated by a large +fly that was buzzing around. Clemence had done thirty-four men’s shirts +so far that day. +</p> + +<p> +“Always wine, never spirits!” suddenly said the zinc-worker, who +felt the necessity of making this declaration. “Spirits make me drunk, +I’ll have none of them.” +</p> + +<p> +Clemence took an iron from the stove with her leather holder in which a piece +of sheet iron was inserted, and held it up to her cheek to see how hot it was. +She rubbed it on her brick, wiped it on a piece of rag hanging from her +waist-band and started on her thirty-fifth shirt, first of all ironing the +shoulders and the sleeves. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! Monsieur Coupeau,” said she after a minute or two, “a +little glass of brandy isn’t bad. It sets me going. Besides, the sooner +you’re merry, the jollier it is. Oh! I don’t make any mistake; I +know that I shan’t make old bones.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a nuisance you are with your funeral ideas!” interrupted +Madame Putois who did not like hearing people talk of anything sad. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau had arisen and was becoming angry thinking that he had been accused of +drinking brandy. He swore on his own head and on the heads of his wife and +child that there was not a drop of brandy in his veins. And he went up to +Clemence and blew in her face so that she might smell his breath. Then he began +to giggle because her bare shoulders were right under his nose. He thought +maybe he could see more. Clemence, having folded over the back of the shirt and +ironed it on both sides, was now working on the cuffs and collar. However, as +he was shoving against her, he caused her to make a wrinkle, obliging her to +reach for the brush soaking in the soup plate to smooth it out. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said she, “do make him leave off bothering +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave her alone; it’s stupid of you to go on like that,” +quietly observed Gervaise. “We’re in a hurry, do you hear?” +</p> + +<p> +They were in a hurry, well! What? It was not his fault. He was doing no harm. +He was not touching, he was only looking. Was it no longer allowed to look at +the beautiful things that God had made? All the same, she had precious fine +arms, that artful Clemence! She might exhibit herself for two sous and nobody +would have to regret his money. The girl allowed him to go on, laughing at +these coarse compliments of a drunken man. And she soon commenced joking with +him. He chuffed her about the shirts. So she was always doing shirts? Why yes, +she practically lived in them. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> She knew them pretty well. +Hundreds and hundreds of them had passed through her hands. Just about every +man in the neighborhood was wearing her handiwork on his body. Her shoulders +were shaking with laughter through all this, but she managed to continue +ironing. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the banter!” said she, laughing harder than ever. +</p> + +<p> +That squint-eyed Augustine almost burst, the joke seemed to her so funny. The +others bullied her. There was a brat for you who laughed at words she ought not +to understand! Clemence handed her her iron; the apprentice finished up the +irons on the stockings and the dish-cloths when they were not hot enough for +the starched things. But she took hold of this one so clumsily that she made +herself a cuff in the form of a long burn on the wrist. And she sobbed and +accused Clemence of having burnt her on purpose. The latter who had gone to +fetch a very hot iron for the shirt-front consoled her at once by threatening +to iron her two ears if she did not leave off. Then she placed a piece of +flannel under the front and slowly passed the iron over it giving the starch +time to show up and dry. The shirt-front became as stiff and as shiny as +cardboard. +</p> + +<p> +“By golly!” swore Coupeau, who was treading behind her with the +obstinacy of a drunkard. +</p> + +<p> +He raised himself up with a shrill laugh that resembled a pulley in want of +grease. Clemence, leaning heavily over the ironing-table, her wrists bent in, +her elbows sticking out and wide apart was bending her neck in a last effort; +and all her muscles swelled, her shoulders rose with the slow play of the +muscles beating beneath the soft skin, her breasts heaved, wet with +perspiration in the rosy shadow of the half open chemise. Then Coupeau thrust +out his hands, trying to touch her bare flesh. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame! Madame!” cried Clemence, “do make him leave off! I +shall go away if it continues. I won’t be intimated.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise glanced over just as her husband’s hands began to explore inside +the chemise. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, Coupeau, you’re too foolish,” said she, with a vexed +air, as though she were scolding a child who persisted in eating his jam +without bread. “You must go to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, go to bed, Monsieur Coupeau; it will be far better,” +exclaimed Madame Putois. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Well,” stuttered he, without ceasing to chuckle, +“you’re all precious particular! So one mustn’t amuse oneself +now? Women, I know how to handle them; I’ll only kiss them, no more. One +admires a lady, you know, and wants to show it. And, besides, when one displays +one’s goods, it’s that one may make one’s choice, isn’t +it? Why does the tall blonde show everything she’s got? It’s not +decent.” +</p> + +<p> +And turning towards Clemence, he added: “You know, my lovely, +you’re wrong to be to very insolent. If it’s because there are +others here—” +</p> + +<p> +But he was unable to continue. Gervaise very calmly seized hold of him with one +hand, and placed the other on his mouth. He struggled, just by way of a joke, +whilst she pushed him to the back of the shop, towards the bedroom. He got his +mouth free and said that he was willing to go to bed, but that the tall blonde +must come and warm his feet. +</p> + +<p> +Then Gervaise could be heard taking off his shoes. She removed his clothes too, +bullying him in a motherly way. He burst out laughing after she had removed his +trousers and kicked about, pretending that she was tickling him. At last she +tucked him in carefully like a child. Was he comfortable now? But he did not +answer; he called to Clemence: +</p> + +<p> +“I say, my lovely, I’m here, and waiting for you!” +</p> + +<p> +When Gervaise went back into the shop, the squint-eyed Augustine was being +properly chastised by Clemence because of a dirty iron that Madame Putois had +used and which had caused her to soil a camisole. Clemence, in defending +herself for not having cleaned her iron, blamed Augustine, swearing that it +wasn’t hers, in spite of the spot of burned starch still clinging to the +bottom. The apprentice, outraged at the injustice, openly spat on the front of +Clemence’s dress, earning a slap for her boldness. Now, as Augustine went +about cleaning the iron, she saved up her spit and each time she passed +Clemence spat on her back and laughed to herself. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise continued with the lace of Madame Boche’s cap. In the sudden +calm which ensued, one could hear Coupeau’s husky voice issuing from the +depths of the bedroom. He was still jolly, and was laughing to himself as he +uttered bits of phrases. +</p> + +<p> +“How stupid she is, my wife! How stupid of her to put me to bed! Really, +it’s too absurd, in the middle of the day, when one isn’t +sleepy.” +</p> + +<p> +But, all on a sudden, he snored. Then Gervaise gave a sigh of relief, happy in +knowing that he was at length quiet, and sleeping off his intoxication on two +good mattresses. And she spoke out in the silence, in a slow and continuous +voice, without taking her eyes off her work. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, he hasn’t his reason, one can’t be angry. Were I to +be harsh with him, it would be of no use. I prefer to agree with him and get +him to bed; then, at least, it’s over at once and I’m quiet. +Besides, he isn’t ill-natured, he loves me very much. You could see that +just a moment ago when he was desperate to give me a kiss. That’s quite +nice of him. There are plenty of men, you know, who after drinking a bit +don’t come straight home but stay out chasing women. Oh, he may fool +around with the women in the shop, but it doesn’t lead to anything. +Clemence, you mustn’t feel insulted. You know how it is when a +man’s had too much to drink. He could do anything and not even remember +it.” +</p> + +<p> +She spoke composedly, not at all angry, being quite used to Coupeau’s +sprees and not holding them against him. A silence settled down for a while +when she stopped talking. There was a lot of work to get done. They figured +they would have to keep at it until eleven, working as fast as they could. Now +that they were undisturbed, all of them were pounding away. Bare arms were +moving back and forth, showing glimpses of pink among the whiteness of the +laundry. +</p> + +<p> +More coke had been put into the stove and the sunlight slanted in between the +sheets onto the stove. You could see the heat rising up through the rays of the +sun. It became so stifling that Augustine ran out of spit and was forced to +lick her lips. The room smelled of the heat and of the working women. The white +lilies in the jar were beginning to fade, yet they still exuded a pure and +strong perfume. Coupeau’s heavy snores were heard like the regular +ticking of a huge clock, setting the tempo for the heavy labor in the shop. +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow of his carouses, the zinc-worker always had a headache, a +splitting headache which kept him all day with his hair uncombed, his breath +offensive, and his mouth all swollen and askew. He got up late on those days, +not shaking the fleas off till about eight o’clock; and he would hang +about the shop, unable to make up his mind to start off to his work. It was +another day lost. In the morning he would complain that his legs bent like +pieces of thread, and would call himself a great fool to guzzle to such an +extent, as it broke one’s constitution. Then, too, there were a lot of +lazy bums who wouldn’t let you go and you’d get to drinking more in +spite of yourself. No, no, no more for him. +</p> + +<p> +After lunch he would always begin to perk up and deny that he had been really +drunk the night before. Maybe just a bit lit up. He was rock solid and able to +drink anything he wanted without even blinking an eye. +</p> + +<p> +When he had thoroughly badgered the workwomen, Gervaise would give him twenty +sous to clear out. And off he would go to buy his tobacco at the “Little +Civet,” in the Rue des Poissonniers, where he generally took a plum in +brandy whenever he met a friend. Then, he spent the rest of the twenty sous at +old Francois’s, at the corner of the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or, where +there was a famous wine, quite young, which tickled your gullet. This was an +old-fashioned place with a low ceiling. There was a smoky room to one side +where soup was served. He would stay there until evening drinking because there +was an understanding that he didn’t have to pay right away and they would +never send the bill to his wife. Besides he was a jolly fellow, who would never +do the least harm—a chap who loved a spree sure enough, and who colored +his nose in his turn but in a nice manner, full of contempt for those pigs of +men who have succumbed to alcohol, and whom one never sees sober! He always +went home as gay and as gallant as a lark. +</p> + +<p> +“Has your lover been?” he would sometimes ask Gervaise by way of +teasing her. “One never sees him now; I must go and rout him out.” +</p> + +<p> +The lover was Goujet. He avoided, in fact, calling too often for fear of being +in the way, and also of causing people to talk. Yet he frequently found a +pretext, such as bringing the washing; and he would pass no end of time on the +pavement in front of the shop. There was a corner right at the back in which he +liked to sit, without moving for hours, and smoke his short pipe. Once every +ten days, in the evening after his dinner, he would venture there and take up +his favorite position. And he was no talker, his mouth almost seemed sewn up, +as he sat with his eyes fixed on Gervaise, and only removed his pipe to laugh +at everything she said. When they were working late on a Saturday he would stay +on, and appeared to amuse himself more than if he had gone to a theatre. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes the women stayed in the shop ironing until three in the morning. A +lamp hung from the ceiling and spread a brilliant light making the linen look +like fresh snow. The apprentice would put up the shop shutters, but since these +July nights were scorching hot, the door would be left open. The later the hour +the more casual the women became with their clothes while trying to be +comfortable. The lamplight flecked their rosy skin with gold specks, especially +Gervaise who was so pleasantly rounded. +</p> + +<p> +On these nights Goujet would be overcome by the heat from the stove and the +odor of linen steaming under the hot irons. He would drift into a sort of +giddiness, his thinking slowed and his eyes obsessed by these hurrying women as +their naked arms moved back and forth, working far into the night to have the +neighborhood’s best clothes ready for Sunday. +</p> + +<p> +Everything around the laundry was slumbering, settled into sleep for the night. +Midnight rang, then one o’clock, then two o’clock. There were no +vehicles or pedestrians. In the dark and deserted street, only their shop door +let out any light. Once in a while, footsteps would be heard and a man would +pass the shop. As he crossed the path of light he would stretch his neck to +look in, startled by the sound of the thudding irons, and carry with him the +quick glimpse of bare-shouldered laundresses immersed in a rosy mist. +</p> + +<p> +Goujet, seeing that Gervaise did not know what to do with Etienne, and wishing +to deliver him from Coupeau’s kicks, had engaged him to go and blow the +bellows at the factory where he worked. The profession of bolt-maker, if not +one to be proud of on account of the dirt of the forge and of the monotony of +constantly hammering on pieces of iron of a similar kind, was nevertheless a +well paid one, at which ten and even twelve francs a day could be earned. The +youngster, who was then twelve years old, would soon be able to go in for it, +if the calling was to his liking. And Etienne had thus become another link +between the laundress and the blacksmith. The latter would bring the child home +and speak of his good conduct. Everyone laughingly said that Goujet was smitten +with Gervaise. She knew it, and blushed like a young girl, the flush of modesty +coloring her cheeks with the bright tints of an apple. The poor fellow, he was +never any trouble! He never made a bold gesture or an indelicate remark. You +didn’t find many men like him. Gervaise didn’t want to admit it, +but she derived a great deal of pleasure from being adored like this. Whenever +a problem arose she thought immediately of the blacksmith and was consoled. +There was never any awkward tension when they were alone together. They just +looked at each other and smiled happily with no need to talk. It was a very +sensible kind of affection. +</p> + +<p> +Towards the end of the summer, Nana quite upset the household. She was six +years old and promised to be a thorough good-for-nothing. So as not to have her +always under her feet her mother took her every morning to a little school in +the Rue Polonceau kept by Mademoiselle Josse. She fastened her +playfellows’ dresses together behind, she filled the +school-mistress’s snuff-box with ashes, and invented other tricks much +less decent which could not be mentioned. Twice Mademoiselle Josse expelled her +and then took her back again so as not to lose the six francs a month. Directly +lessons were over Nana avenged herself for having been kept in by making an +infernal noise under the porch and in the courtyard where the ironers, whose +ears could not stand the racket, sent her to play. There she would meet +Pauline, the Boches’ daughter, and Victor, the son of Gervaise’s +old employer—a big booby of ten who delighted in playing with very little +girls. Madame Fauconnier who had not quarreled with the Coupeaus would herself +send her son. In the house, too, there was an extraordinary swarm of brats, +flights of children who rolled down the four staircases at all hours of the day +and alighted on the pavement of the courtyard like troops of noisy pillaging +sparrows. Madame Gaudron was responsible for nine of them, all with uncombed +hair, runny noses, hand-me-down clothes, saggy stockings and ripped jackets. +Another woman on the sixth floor had seven of them. This hoard that only got +their faces washed when it rained were in all shapes and sizes, fat, thin, big +and barely out of the cradle. +</p> + +<p> +Nana reigned supreme over this host of urchins; she ordered about girls twice +her own size, and only deigned to relinquish a little of her power in favor of +Pauline and Victor, intimate confidants who enforced her commands. This +precious chit was for ever wanting to play at being mamma, undressing the +smallest ones to dress them again, insisting on examining the others all over, +messing them about and exercising the capricious despotism of a grown-up person +with a vicious disposition. Under her leadership they got up tricks for which +they should have been well spanked. The troop paddled in the colored water from +the dyer’s and emerged from it with legs stained blue or red as high as +the knees; then off it flew to the locksmith’s where it purloined nails +and filings and started off again to alight in the midst of the +carpenter’s shavings, enormous heaps of shavings, which delighted it +immensely and in which it rolled head over heels exposing their behinds. +</p> + +<p> +The courtyard was her kingdom. It echoed with the clatter of little shoes as +they stampeded back and forth with piercing cries. On some days the courtyard +was too small for them and the troop would dash down into the cellar, race up a +staircase, run along a corridor, then dash up another staircase and follow +another corridor for hours. They never got tired of their yelling and +clambering. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t they abominable, those little toads?” cried Madame +Boche. “Really, people can have but very little to do to have time to get +so many brats. And yet they complain of having no bread.” +</p> + +<p> +Boche said that children pushed up out of poverty like mushrooms out of manure. +All day long his wife was screaming at them and chasing them with her broom. +Finally she had to lock the door of the cellar when she learned from Pauline +that Nana was playing doctor down there in the dark, viciously finding pleasure +in applying remedies to the others by beating them with sticks. +</p> + +<p> +Well, one afternoon there was a frightful scene. It was bound to have come +sooner or later. Nana had thought of a very funny little game. She had stolen +one of Madame Boche’s wooden shoes from outside the concierge’s +room. She tied a string to it and began dragging it about like a cart. Victor +on his side had had the idea to fill it with potato parings. Then a procession +was formed. Nana came first dragging the wooden shoe. Pauline and Victor walked +on her right and left. Then the entire crowd of urchins followed in order, the +big ones first, the little ones next, jostling one another; a baby in long +skirts about as tall as a boot with an old tattered bonnet cocked on one side +of its head, brought up the rear. And the procession chanted something sad with +plenty of ohs! and ahs! Nana had said that they were going to play at a +funeral; the potato parings represented the body. When they had gone the round +of the courtyard, they recommenced. They thought it immensely amusing. +</p> + +<p> +“What can they be up to?” murmured Madame Boche, who emerged from +her room to see, ever mistrustful and on the alert. +</p> + +<p> +And when she understood: “But it’s my shoe!” cried she +furiously. “Ah, the rogues!” +</p> + +<p> +She distributed some smacks, clouted Nana on both cheeks and administered a +kick to Pauline, that great goose who allowed the others to steal her +mother’s shoe. It so happened that Gervaise was filling a bucket at the +tap. When she beheld Nana, her nose bleeding and choking with sobs, she almost +sprang at the concierge’s chignon. It was not right to hit a child as +though it were an ox. One could have no heart, one must be the lowest of the +low if one did so. Madame Boche naturally replied in a similar strain. When one +had a beast of a girl like that one should keep her locked up. At length Boche +himself appeared in the doorway to call his wife to come in and not to enter +into so many explanations with a filthy thing like her. There was a regular +quarrel. +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact things had not gone on very pleasantly between the Boches +and the Coupeaus for a month past. Gervaise, who was of a very generous nature, +was continually bestowing wine, broth, oranges and slices of cake on the +Boches. One night she had taken the remains of an endive and beetroot salad to +the concierge’s room, knowing that the latter would have done anything +for such a treat. But on the morrow she became quite pale with rage on hearing +Mademoiselle Remanjou relate how Madame Boche had thrown the salad away in the +presence of several persons with an air of disgust and under the pretext that +she, thank goodness, was not yet reduced to feeding on things which others had +messed about. From that time Gervaise took no more presents to the +Boches—nothing. Now the Boches seemed to think that Gervaise was stealing +something which was rightfully theirs. Gervaise saw that she had made a +mistake. If she hadn’t catered to them so much in the beginning, they +wouldn’t have gotten into the habit of expecting it and might have +remained on good terms with her. +</p> + +<p> +Now the concierge began to spread slander about Gervaise. There was a great +fuss with the landlord, Monsieur Marescot, at the October rental period, +because Gervaise was a day late with the rent. Madame Boche accused her of +eating up all her money in fancy dishes. Monsieur Marescot charged into the +laundry demanding to be paid at once. He didn’t even bother to remove his +hat. The money was ready and was paid to him immediately. The Boches had now +made up with the Lorilleuxs who now came and did their guzzling in the +concierge’s lodge. They assured each other that they never would have +fallen out if it hadn’t been for Clump-clump. She was enough to set +mountains to fighting. Ah! the Boches knew her well now, they could understand +how much the Lorilleuxs must suffer. And whenever she passed beneath the +doorway they all affected to sneer at her. +</p> + +<p> +One day, Gervaise went up to see the Lorilleuxs in spite of this. It was with +respect to mother Coupeau who was then sixty-seven years old. Mother +Coupeau’s eyesight was almost completely gone. Her legs too were no +longer what they used to be. She had been obliged to give up her last cleaning +job and now threatened to die of hunger if assistance were not forthcoming. +Gervaise thought it shameful that a woman of her age, having three children +should be thus abandoned by heaven and earth. And as Coupeau refused to speak +to the Lorilleuxs on the subject saying that she, Gervaise, could very well go +and do so, the latter went up in a fit of indignation with which her heart was +almost bursting. +</p> + +<p> +When she reached their door she entered without knocking. Nothing had been +changed since the night when the Lorilleuxs, at their first meeting had +received her so ungraciously. The same strip of faded woolen stuff separated +the room from the workshop, a lodging like a gun barrel, and which looked as +though it had been built for an eel. Right at the back Lorilleux, leaning over +his bench, was squeezing together one by one the links of a piece of chain, +whilst Madame Lorilleux, standing in front of the vise was passing a gold wire +through the draw-plate. In the broad daylight the little forge had a rosy +reflection. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s I!” said Gervaise. “I daresay you’re +surprised to see me as we’re at daggers drawn. But I’ve come +neither for you nor myself you may be quite sure. It’s for mother Coupeau +that I’ve come. Yes, I have come to see if we’re going to let her +beg her bread from the charity of others.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well, that’s a fine way to burst in upon one!” murmured +Madame Lorilleux. “One must have a rare cheek.” +</p> + +<p> +And she turned her back and resumed drawing her gold wire, affecting to ignore +her sister-in-law’s presence. But Lorilleux raised his pale face and +cried: +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that you say?” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as he had heard perfectly well, he continued: +</p> + +<p> +“More back-bitings, eh? She’s nice, mother Coupeau, to go and cry +starvation everywhere! Yet only the day before yesterday she dined here. We do +what we can. We haven’t got all the gold of Peru. Only if she goes about +gossiping with others she had better stay with them, for we don’t like +spies.” +</p> + +<p> +He took up the piece of chain and turned his back also, adding as though with +regret: +</p> + +<p> +“When everyone gives five francs a month, we’ll give five +francs.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise had calmed down and felt quite chilled by the wooden looking faces of +the Lorilleux. She had never once set foot in their rooms without experiencing +a certain uneasiness. With her eyes fixed on the floor, staring at the holes of +the wooden grating through which the waste gold fell she now explained herself +in a reasonable manner. Mother Coupeau had three children; if each one gave +five francs it would only make fifteen francs, and really that was not enough, +one could not live on it; they must at least triple the sum. But Lorilleux +cried out. Where did she think he could steal fifteen francs a month? It was +quite amusing, people thought he was rich simply because he had gold in his +place. He began then to criticize mother Coupeau: she had to have her morning +coffee, she took a sip of brandy now and then, she was as demanding as if she +were rich. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> Sure, everyone liked the good things of life. But +if you’ve never saved a sou, you had to do what other folks did and do +without. Besides, mother Coupeau wasn’t too old to work. She could see +well enough when she was trying to pick a choice morsel from the platter. She +was just an old spendthrift trying to get others to provide her with comforts. +Even had he had the means, he would have considered it wrong to support any one +in idleness. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise remained conciliatory, and peaceably argued against all this bad +reasoning. She tried to soften the Lorilleuxs. But the husband ended by no +longer answering her. The wife was now at the forge scouring a piece of chain +in the little, long-handled brass saucepan full of lye-water. She still +affectedly turned her back, as though a hundred leagues away. And Gervaise +continued speaking, watching them pretending to be absorbed in their labor in +the midst of the black dust of the workshop, their bodies distorted, their +clothes patched and greasy, both become stupidly hardened like old tools in the +pursuit of their narrow mechanical task. Then suddenly anger again got the +better of her and she exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, I’d rather it was so; keep your money! I’ll give +mother Coupeau a home, do you hear? I picked up a cat the other evening, so I +can at least do the same for your mother. And she shall be in want of nothing; +she shall have her coffee and her drop of brandy! Good heavens! what a vile +family!” +</p> + +<p> +At these words Madame Lorilleux turned round. She brandished the saucepan as +though she was about to throw the lye-water in her sister-in-law’s face. +She stammered with rage: +</p> + +<p> +“Be off, or I shall do you an injury! And don’t count on the five +francs because I won’t give a radish! No, not a radish! Ah well, yes, +five francs! Mother would be your servant and you would enjoy yourself with my +five francs! If she goes to live with you, tell her this, she may croak, I +won’t even send her a glass of water. Now off you go! Clear out!” +</p> + +<p> +“What a monster of a woman!” said Gervaise violently slamming the +door. +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow she brought mother Coupeau to live with her, putting her bed in +the inner room where Nana slept. The moving did not take long, for all the +furniture mother Coupeau had was her bed, an ancient walnut wardrobe which was +put in the dirty-clothes room, a table, and two chairs. They sold the table and +had the chairs recaned. From the very first the old lady took over the +sweeping. She washed the dishes and made herself useful, happy to have settled +her problem. +</p> + +<p> +The Lorilleux were furious enough to explode, especially since Madame Lerat was +now back on good terms with the Coupeaus. One day the two sisters, the +flower-maker and the chainmaker came to blows about Gervaise because Madame +Lerat dared to express approval of the way she was taking care of their mother. +When she noticed how this upset the other, she went on to remark that Gervaise +had magnificent eyes, eyes warm enough to set paper on fire. The two of them +commenced slapping each other and swore they never would see each other again. +Nowadays Madame Lerat often spent her evenings in the shop, laughing to herself +at Clemence’s spicy remarks. +</p> + +<p> +Three years passed by. There were frequent quarrels and reconciliations. +Gervaise did not care a straw for the Lorilleux, the Boches and all the others +who were not of her way of thinking. If they did not like it, they could forget +it. She earned what she wished, that was her principal concern. The people of +the neighborhood had ended by greatly esteeming her, for one did not find many +customers so kind as she was, paying punctually, never caviling or higgling. +She bought her bread of Madame Coudeloup, in the Rue des Poissonniers; her meat +of stout Charles, a butcher in the Rue Polonceau; her groceries at +Lehongre’s, in the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or, almost opposite her own +shop. Francois, the wine merchant at the corner of the street, supplied her +with wine in baskets of fifty bottles. Her neighbor Vigouroux, whose +wife’s hips must have been black and blue, the men pinched her so much, +sold coke to her at the same price as the gas company. And, in all truth, her +tradespeople served her faithfully, knowing that there was everything to gain +by treating her well. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, whenever she went out around the neighborhood, she was greeted +everywhere. She felt quite at home. Sometimes she put off doing a laundry job +just to enjoy being outdoors among her good friends. On days when she was too +rushed to do her own cooking and had to go out to buy something already cooked, +she would stop to gossip with her arms full of bowls. The neighbor she +respected the most was still the watchmaker. Often she would cross the street +to greet him in his tiny cupboard of a shop, taking pleasure in the gaiety of +the little cuckoo clocks with their pendulums ticking away the hours in chorus. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"></a> +CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<p> +One afternoon in the autumn Gervaise, who had been taking some washing home to +a customer in the Rue des Portes-Blanches, found herself at the bottom of the +Rue des Poissonniers just as the day was declining. It had rained in the +morning, the weather was very mild and an odor rose from the greasy pavement; +and the laundress, burdened with her big basket, was rather out of breath, slow +of step, and inclined to take her ease as she ascended the street with the +vague preoccupation of a longing increased by her weariness. She would have +liked to have had something to eat. Then, on raising her eyes she beheld the +name of the Rue Marcadet, and she suddenly had the idea of going to see Goujet +at his forge. He had no end of times told her to look in any day she was +curious to see how iron was wrought. Besides in the presence of other workmen +she would ask for Etienne, and make believe that she had merely called for the +youngster. +</p> + +<p> +The factory was somewhere on this end of the Rue Marcadet, but she didn’t +know exactly where and street numbers were often lacking on those ramshackle +buildings separated by vacant lots. She wouldn’t have lived on this +street for all the gold in the world. It was a wide street, but dirty, black +with soot from factories, with holes in the pavement and deep ruts filled with +stagnant water. On both sides were rows of sheds, workshops with beams and +brickwork exposed so that they seemed unfinished, a messy collection of +masonry. Beside them were dubious lodging houses and even more dubious taverns. +All she could recall was that the bolt factory was next to a yard full of scrap +iron and rags, a sort of open sewer spread over the ground, storing merchandise +worth hundreds of thousands of francs, according to Goujet. +</p> + +<p> +The street was filled with a noisy racket. Exhaust pipes on roofs puffed out +violent jets of steam; an automatic sawmill added a rhythmic screeching; a +button factory shook the ground with the rumbling of its machines. She was +looking up toward the Montmartre height, hesitant, uncertain whether to +continue, when a gust of wind blew down a mass of sooty smoke that covered the +entire street. She closed her eyes and held her breath. At that moment she +heard the sound of hammers in cadence. Without realizing it, she had arrived +directly in front of the bolt factory which she now recognized by the vacant +lot beside it full of piles of scrap iron and old rags. +</p> + +<p> +She still hesitated, not knowing where to enter. A broken fence opened a +passage which seemed to lead through the heaps of rubbish from some buildings +recently pulled down. Two planks had been thrown across a large puddle of muddy +water that barred the way. She ended by venturing along them, turned to the +left and found herself lost in the depths of a strange forest of old carts, +standing on end with their shafts in the air, and of hovels in ruins, the +wood-work of which was still standing. Toward the back, stabbing through the +half-light of sundown, a flame gleamed red. The clamor of the hammers had +ceased. She was advancing carefully when a workman, his face blackened with +coal-dust and wearing a goatee passed near her, casting a side-glance with his +pale eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” asked she, “it’s here is it not that a boy named +Etienne works? He’s my son.” +</p> + +<p> +“Etienne, Etienne,” repeated the workman in a hoarse voice as he +twisted himself about. “Etienne; no I don’t know him.” +</p> + +<p> +An alcoholic reek like that from old brandy casks issued from his mouth. +Meeting a woman in this dark corner seemed to be giving the fellow ideas, and +so Gervaise drew back saying: +</p> + +<p> +“But yet it’s here that Monsieur Goujet works, isn’t +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Goujet, yes!” said the workman; “I know Goujet! If you +come for Goujet, go right to the end.” +</p> + +<p> +And turning round he called out at the top of his voice, which had a sound of +cracked brass: +</p> + +<p> +“I say Golden-Mug, here’s a lady wants you!” +</p> + +<p> +But a clanging of iron drowned the cry! Gervaise went to the end. She reached a +door and stretching out her neck looked in. At first she could distinguish +nothing. The forge had died down, but there was still a little glow which held +back the advancing shadows from its corner. Great shadows seemed to float in +the air. At times black shapes passed before the fire, shutting off this last +bit of brightness, silhouettes of men so strangely magnified that their arms +and legs were indistinct. Gervaise, not daring to venture in, called from the +doorway in a faint voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Goujet! Monsieur Goujet!” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly all became lighted up. Beneath the puff of the bellows a jet of white +flame had ascended and the whole interior of the shed could be seen, walled in +by wooden planks, with openings roughly plastered over, and brick walls +reinforcing the corners. Coal-ash had painted the whole expanse a sooty grey. +Spider webs hung from the beams like rags hung up to dry, heavy with the +accumulated dust of years. On shelves along the walls, or hanging from nails, +or tossed into corners, she saw rusty iron, battered implements and huge tools. +The white flame flared higher, like an explosion of dazzling sunlight revealing +the trampled dirt underfoot, where the polished steel of four anvils fixed on +blocks took on a reflection of silver sprinkled with gold. +</p> + +<p> +Then Gervaise recognized Goujet in front of the forge by his beautiful yellow +beard. Etienne was blowing the bellows. Two other workmen were there, but she +only beheld Goujet and walked forward and stood before him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why it’s Madame Gervaise!” he exclaimed with a bright look +on his face. “What a pleasant surprise.” +</p> + +<p> +But as his comrades appeared to be rather amused, he pushed Etienne towards his +mother and resumed: +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve come to see the youngster. He behaves himself well, +he’s beginning to get some strength in his wrists.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” she said, “it isn’t easy to find your way here. +I thought I was going to the end of the world.” +</p> + +<p> +After telling about her journey, she asked why no one in the shop knew +Etienne’s name. Goujet laughed and explained to her that everybody called +him “Little Zouzou” because he had his hair cut short like that of +a Zouave. While they were talking together Etienne stopped working the bellows +and the flame of the forge dwindled to a rosy glow amid the gathering darkness. +Touched by the presence of this smiling young woman, the blacksmith stood +gazing at her. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as neither continued speaking, he seemed to recollect and broke the +silence: +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me, Madame Gervaise, I’ve something that has to be +finished. You’ll stay, won’t you? You’re not in +anybody’s way.” +</p> + +<p> +She remained. Etienne returned to the bellows. The forge was soon ablaze again +with a cloud of sparks; the more so as the youngster, wanting to show his +mother what he could do, was making the bellows blow a regular hurricane. +Goujet, standing up watching a bar of iron heating, was waiting with the tongs +in his hand. The bright glare illuminated him without a shadow—sleeves +rolled back, shirt neck open, bare arms and chest. When the bar was at white +heat he seized it with the tongs and cut it with a hammer on the anvil, in +pieces of equal length, as though he had been gently breaking pieces of glass. +Then he put the pieces back into the fire, from which he took them one by one +to work them into shape. He was forging hexagonal rivets. He placed each piece +in a tool-hole of the anvil, bent down the iron that was to form the head, +flattened the six sides and threw the finished rivet still red-hot on to the +black earth, where its bright light gradually died out; and this with a +continuous hammering, wielding in his right hand a hammer weighing five pounds, +completing a detail at every blow, turning and working the iron with such +dexterity that he was able to talk to and look at those about him. The anvil +had a silvery ring. Without a drop of perspiration, quite at his ease, he +struck in a good-natured sort of a way, not appearing to exert himself more +than on the evenings when he cut out pictures at home. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! these are little rivets of twenty millimetres,” said he in +reply to Gervaise’s questions. “A fellow can do his three hundred a +day. But it requires practice, for one’s arm soon grows weary.” +</p> + +<p> +And when she asked him if his wrist did not feel stiff at the end of the day he +laughed aloud. Did she think him a young lady? His wrist had had plenty of +drudgery for fifteen years past; it was now as strong as the iron implements it +had been so long in contact with. She was right though; a gentleman who had +never forged a rivet or a bolt, and who would try to show off with his five +pound hammer, would find himself precious stiff in the course of a couple of +hours. It did not seem much, but a few years of it often did for some very +strong fellows. During this conversation the other workmen were also hammering +away all together. Their tall shadows danced about in the light, the red +flashes of the iron that the fire traversed, the gloomy recesses, clouds of +sparks darted out from beneath the hammers and shone like suns on a level with +the anvils. And Gervaise, feeling happy and interested in the movement round +the forge, did not think of leaving. She was going a long way round to get +nearer to Etienne without having her hands burnt, when she saw the dirty and +bearded workman, whom she had spoken to outside, enter. +</p> + +<p> +“So you’ve found him, madame?” asked he in his drunken +bantering way. “You know, Golden-Mug, it’s I who told madame where +to find you.” +</p> + +<p> +He was called Salted-Mouth, otherwise Drink-without-Thirst, the brick of +bricks, a dab hand at bolt forging, who wetted his iron every day with a pint +and a half of brandy. He had gone out to have a drop, because he felt he wanted +greasing to make him last till six o’clock. When he learnt that Little +Zouzou’s real name was Etienne, he thought it very funny; and he showed +his black teeth as he laughed. Then he recognized Gervaise. Only the day before +he had had a glass of wine with Coupeau. You could speak to Coupeau about +Salted-Mouth, otherwise Drink-without-Thirst; he would at once say: +“He’s a jolly dog!” Ah! that joker Coupeau! He was one of the +right sort; he stood treat oftener than his turn. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m awfully glad to know you’re his missus,” added he. +</p> + +<p> +“He deserves to have a pretty wife. Eh, Golden-Mug, madame is a fine +woman, isn’t she?” +</p> + +<p> +He was becoming quite gallant, sidling up towards the laundress, who took hold +of her basket and held it in front of her so as to keep him at a distance. +Goujet, annoyed and seeing that his comrade was joking because of his +friendship for Gervaise, called out to him: +</p> + +<p> +“I say, lazybones, what about the forty millimetre bolts? Do you think +you’re equal to them now that you’ve got your gullet full, you +confounded guzzler?” +</p> + +<p> +The blacksmith was alluding to an order for big bolts which necessitated two +beaters at the anvil. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m ready to start at this moment, big baby!” replied +Salted-Mouth, otherwise Drink-without-Thirst. “It sucks it’s thumb +and thinks itself a man. In spite of your size I’m equal to you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that’s it, at once. Look sharp and off we go!” +</p> + +<p> +“Right you are, my boy!” +</p> + +<p> +They taunted each other, stimulated by Gervaise’s presence. Goujet placed +the pieces of iron that had been cut beforehand in the fire, then he fixed a +tool-hole of large bore on an anvil. His comrade had taken from against the +wall two sledge-hammers weighing twenty pounds each, the two big sisters of the +factory whom the workers called Fifine and Dedele. And he continued to brag, +talking of a half-gross of rivets which he had forged for the Dunkirk +lighthouse, regular jewels, things to be put in a museum, they were so daintily +finished off. Hang it all, no! he did not fear competition; before meeting with +another chap like him, you might search every factory in the capital. They were +going to have a laugh; they would see what they would see. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame will be judge,” said he, turning towards the young woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Enough chattering,” cried Goujet. “Now then, Zouzou, show +your muscle! It’s not hot enough, my lad.” +</p> + +<p> +But Salted-Mouth, otherwise Drink-without-Thirst, asked: “So we strike +together?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a bit of it! each his own bolt, my friend!” +</p> + +<p> +This statement operated as a damper, and Goujet’s comrade, on hearing it, +remained speechless, in spite of his boasting. Bolts of forty millimetres +fashioned by one man had never before been seen; the more so as the bolts were +to be round-headed, a work of great difficulty, a real masterpiece to achieve. +</p> + +<p> +The three other workmen came over, leaving their jobs, to watch. A tall, lean +one wagered a bottle of wine that Goujet would be beaten. Meanwhile the two +blacksmiths had chosen their sledge hammers with eyes closed, because Fifine +weighed a half pound more than Dedele. Salted-Mouth, otherwise +Drink-without-Thirst, had the good luck to put his hand on Dedele; Fifine fell +to Golden-Mug. +</p> + +<p> +While waiting for the iron to get hot enough, Salted-Mouth, otherwise +Drink-without-Thirst, again showing off, struck a pose before the anvil while +casting side glances toward Gervaise. He planted himself solidly, tapping his +feet impatiently like a man ready for a fight, throwing all his strength into +practice swings with Dedele. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> He was good at this; he could +have flattened the Vendome column like a pancake. +</p> + +<p> +“Now then, off you go!” said Goujet, placing one of the pieces of +iron, as thick as a girl’s wrist, in the tool-hole. +</p> + +<p> +Salted-Mouth, otherwise Drink-without-Thirst, leant back, and swung Dedele +round with both hands. Short and lean, with his goatee bristling, and with his +wolf-like eyes glaring beneath his unkempt hair, he seemed to snap at each +swing of the hammer, springing up from the ground as though carried away by the +force he put into the blow. He was a fierce one, who fought with the iron, +annoyed at finding it so hard, and he even gave a grunt whenever he thought he +had planted a fierce stroke. Perhaps brandy did weaken other people’s +arms, but he needed brandy in his veins, instead of blood. The drop he had +taken a little while before had made his carcass as warm as a boiler; he felt +he had the power of a steam-engine within him. And the iron seemed to be afraid +of him this time; he flattened it more easily than if it had been a quid of +tobacco. And it was a sight to see how Dedele waltzed! She cut such capers, +with her tootsies in the air, just like a little dancer at the Elysee +Montmartre, who exhibits her fine underclothes; for it would never do to +dawdle, iron is so deceitful, it cools at once, just to spite the hammer. With +thirty blows, Salted-Mouth, otherwise Drink-without-Thirst, had fashioned the +head of his bolt. But he panted, his eyes were half out of his head, and got +into a great rage as he felt his arms growing tired. Then, carried away by +wrath, jumping about and yelling, he gave two more blows, just out of revenge +for his trouble. When he took the bolt from the hole, it was deformed, its head +being askew like a hunchback’s. +</p> + +<p> +“Come now! Isn’t that quickly beaten into shape?” said he all +the same, with his self-confidence, as he presented his work to Gervaise. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m no judge, sir,” replied the laundress, reservedly. +</p> + +<p> +But she saw plainly enough the marks of Dedele’s last two kicks on the +bolt, and she was very pleased. She bit her lips so as not to laugh, for now +Goujet had every chance of winning. +</p> + +<p> +It was now Golden-Mug’s turn. Before commencing, he gave the laundress a +look full of confident tenderness. Then he did not hurry himself. He measured +his distance, and swung the hammer from on high with all his might and at +regular intervals. He had the classic style, accurate, evenly balanced, and +supple. Fifine, in his hands, did not cut capers, like at a dance-hall, but +made steady, certain progress; she rose and fell in cadence, like a lady of +quality solemnly leading some ancient minuet. +</p> + +<p> +There was no brandy in Golden-Mug’s veins, only blood, throbbing +powerfully even into Fifine and controlling the job. That stalwart fellow! What +a magnificent man he was at work. The high flame of the forge shone full on his +face. His whole face seemed golden indeed with his short hair curling over his +forehead and his splendid yellow beard. His neck was as straight as a column +and his immense chest was wide enough for a woman to sleep across it. His +shoulders and sculptured arms seemed to have been copied from a giant’s +statue in some museum. You could see his muscles swelling, mountains of flesh +rippling and hardening under the skin; his shoulders, his chest, his neck +expanded; he seemed to shed light about him, becoming beautiful and +all-powerful like a kindly god. +</p> + +<p> +He had now swung Fifine twenty times, his eyes always fixed on the iron, +drawing a deep breath with each blow, yet showing only two great drops of sweat +trickling down from his temples. He counted: “Twenty-one, twenty-two, +twenty-three—” Calmly Fifine continued, like a noble lady dancing. +</p> + +<p> +“What a show-off!” jeeringly murmured Salted-Mouth, otherwise +Drink-without-Thirst. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, standing opposite Goujet, looked at him with an affectionate smile. +<i>Mon Dieu!</i> What fools men are! Here these two men were, pounding on their +bolts to pay court to her. She understood it. They were battling with hammer +blows, like two big red roosters vying for the favors of a little white hen. +Sometimes the human heart has fantastic ways of expressing itself. This +thundering of Dedele and Fifine upon the anvil was for her, this forge roaring +and overflowing was for her. They were forging their love before her, battling +over her. +</p> + +<p> +To be honest, she rather enjoyed it. All women are happy to receive +compliments. The mighty blows of Golden-Mug found echoes in her heart; they +rang within her, a crystal-clear music in time with the throbbing of her pulse. +She had the feeling that this hammering was driving something deep inside of +her, something solid, something hard as the iron of the bolt. +</p> + +<p> +She had no doubt Goujet would win. Salted-Mouth, otherwise +Drink-without-Thirst, was much too ugly in his dirty tunic, jumping around like +a monkey that had escaped from a zoo. She waited, blushing red, happy that the +heat could explain the blush. +</p> + +<p> +Goujet was still counting. +</p> + +<p> +“And twenty-eight!” cried he at length, laying the hammer on the +ground. “It’s finished; you can look.” +</p> + +<p> +The head of the bolt was clean, polished, and without a flaw, regular +goldsmith’s work, with the roundness of a marble cast in a mold. The +other men looked at it and nodded their heads; there was no denying it was +lovely enough to be worshipped. Salted-Mouth, otherwise Drink-without-Thirst, +tried indeed to chuff; but it was no use, and ended by returning to his anvil, +with his nose put out of joint. Gervaise had squeezed up against Goujet, as +though to get a better view. Etienne having let go the bellows, the forge was +once more becoming enveloped in shadow, like a brilliant red sunset suddenly +giving way to black night. And the blacksmith and the laundress experienced a +sweet pleasure in feeling this gloom surround them in that shed black with soot +and filings, and where an odor of old iron prevailed. They could not have +thought themselves more alone in the Bois de Vincennes had they met there in +the depths of some copse. He took her hand as though he had conquered her. +</p> + +<p> +Outside, they scarcely exchanged a word. All he could find to say was that she +might have taken Etienne away with her, had it not been that there was still +another half-hour’s work to get through. When she started away he called +her back, wanting a few more minutes with her. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along. You haven’t seen all the place. It’s quite +interesting.” +</p> + +<p> +He led her to another shed where the owner was installing a new machine. She +hesitated in the doorway, oppressed by an instinctive dread. The great hall was +vibrating from the machines and black shadows filled the air. He reassured her +with a smile, swearing that there was nothing to fear, only she should be +careful not to let her skirts get caught in any of the gears. He went first and +she followed into the deafening hubbub of whistling, amid clouds of steam +peopled by human shadows moving busily. +</p> + +<p> +The passages were very narrow and there were obstacles to step over, holes to +avoid, passing carts to move back from. She couldn’t distinguish anything +clearly or hear what Goujet was saying. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise looked up and stopped to stare at the leather belts hanging from the +roof in a gigantic spider web, each strip ceaselessly revolving. The steam +engine that drove them was hidden behind a low brick wall so that the belts +seemed to be moving by themselves. She stumbled and almost fell while looking +up. +</p> + +<p> +Goujet raised his voice with explanations. There were the tapping machines +operated by women, which put threads on bolts and nuts. Their steel gears were +shining with oil. She could follow the entire process. She nodded her head and +smiled. +</p> + +<p> +She was still a little tense, however, feeling uneasy at being so small among +these rough metalworkers. She jumped back more than once, her blood suddenly +chilled by the dull thud of a machine. +</p> + +<p> +Goujet had stopped before one of the rivet machines. He stood there brooding, +his head lowered, his gaze fixed. This machine forged forty millimetre rivets +with the calm ease of a giant. Nothing could be simpler. The stoker took the +iron shank from the furnace; the striker put it into the socket, where a +continuous stream of water cooled it to prevent softening of the steel. The +press descended and the bolt flew out onto the ground, its head as round as +though cast in a mold. Every twelve hours this machine made hundreds of +kilograms of bolts! +</p> + +<p> +Goujet was not a mean person, but there were moments when he wanted to take +Fifine and smash this machine to bits because he was angry to see that its arms +were stronger than his own. He reasoned with himself, telling himself that +human flesh cannot compete with steel. But he was still deeply hurt. The day +would come when machinery would destroy the skilled worker. Their day’s +pay had already fallen from twelve francs to nine francs. There was talk of +cutting it again. He stared at it, frowning, for three minutes without saying a +word. His yellow beard seemed to bristle defiantly. Then, gradually an +expression of resignation came over his face and he turned toward Gervaise who +was clinging tightly to him and said with a sad smile: +</p> + +<p> +“Well! That machine would certainly win a contest. But perhaps it will be +for the good of mankind in the long run.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise didn’t care a bit about the welfare of mankind. Smiling, she +said to Goujet: +</p> + +<p> +“I like yours better, because they show the hand of an artist.” +</p> + +<p> +Hearing this gave him great happiness because he had been afraid that she might +be scornful of him after seeing the machines. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> He might be +stronger than Salted-Mouth, otherwise Drink-without-Thirst, but the machines +were stronger yet. When Gervaise finally took her leave, Goujet was so happy +that he almost crushed her with a hug. +</p> + +<p> +The laundress went every Saturday to the Goujets to deliver their washing. They +still lived in the little house in the Rue Neuve de la Goutte-d’Or. +During the first year she had regularly repaid them twenty francs a month; so +as not to jumble up the accounts, the washing-book was only made up at the end +of each month, and then she added to the amount whatever sum was necessary to +make the twenty francs, for the Goujets’ washing rarely came to more than +seven or eight francs during that time. She had therefore paid off nearly half +the sum owing, when one quarter day, not knowing what to do, some of her +customers not having kept their promises, she had been obliged to go to the +Goujets and borrow from them sufficient for her rent. On two other occasions +she had also applied to them for the money to pay her workwomen, so that the +debt had increased again to four hundred and twenty-five francs. Now, she no +longer gave a halfpenny; she worked off the amount solely by the washing. It +was not that she worked less, or that her business was not so prosperous. But +something was going wrong in her home; the money seemed to melt away, and she +was glad when she was able to make both ends meet. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> +What’s the use of complaining as long as one gets by. She was putting on +weight and this caused her to become a bit lazy. She no longer had the energy +that she had in the past. Oh well, there was always something coming in. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Goujet felt a motherly concern for Gervaise and sometimes reprimanded +her. This wasn’t due to the money owed but because she liked her and +didn’t want to see her get into difficulties. She never mentioned the +debt. In short, she behaved with the utmost delicacy. +</p> + +<p> +The morrow of Gervaise’s visit to the forge happened to be the last +Saturday of the month. When she reached the Goujets, where she made a point of +going herself, her basket had so weighed on her arms that she was quite two +minutes before she could get her breath. One would hardly believe how heavy +clothes are, especially when there are sheets among them. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure you’ve brought everything?” asked Madame +Goujet. +</p> + +<p> +She was very strict on that point. She insisted on having her washing brought +home without a single article being kept back for the sake of order, as she +said. She also required the laundress always to come on the day arranged and at +the same hour; in that way there was no time wasted. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! yes, everything is here,” replied Gervaise smiling. “You +know I never leave anything behind.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” admitted Madame Goujet; “you’ve +got into many bad habits but you’re still free of that one.” +</p> + +<p> +And while the laundress emptied her basket, laying the linen on the bed, the +old woman praised her; she never burnt the things nor tore them like so many +others did, neither did she pull the buttons off with the iron; only she used +too much blue and made the shirt-fronts too stiff with starch. +</p> + +<p> +“Just look, it’s like cardboard,” continued she, making one +crackle between her fingers. “My son does not complain, but it cuts his +neck. To-morrow his neck will be all scratched when we return from +Vincennes.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, don’t say that!” exclaimed Gervaise, quite grieved. +“To look nice, shirts must be rather stiff, otherwise it’s as +though one had a rag on one’s body. You should just see what the +gentlemen wear. I do all your things myself. The workwomen never touch them and +I assure you I take great pains. I would, if necessary, do everything over a +dozen times, because it’s for you, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +She slightly blushed as she stammered out the last words. She was afraid of +showing the great pleasure she took in ironing Goujet’s shirts. She +certainly had no wicked thoughts, but she was none the less a little bit +ashamed. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I’m not complaining of your work; I know it’s +perfection,” said Madame Goujet. “For instance, you’ve done +this cap splendidly, only you could bring out the embroidery like that. And the +flutings are all so even. Oh! I recognize your hand at once. When you give even +a dish-cloth to one of your workwomen I detect it at once. In future, use a +little less starch, that’s all! Goujet does not care to look like a +stylish gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +She had taken out her notebook and was crossing off the various items. +Everything was in order. She noticed that Gervaise was charging six sous for +each bonnet. She protested, but had to agree that it was in line with present +prices. Men’s shirts were five sous, women’s underdrawers four +sous, pillow-cases a sou and a half, and aprons one sou. No, the prices +weren’t high. Some laundresses charged a sou more for each item. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was now calling out the soiled clothes, as she packed them in her +basket, for Madame Goujet to list. Then she lingered on, embarrassed by a +request which she wished to make. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Goujet,” she said at length, “if it does not +inconvenience you, I would like to take the money for the month’s +washing.” +</p> + +<p> +It so happened that that month was a very heavy one, the account they had made +up together amounting to ten francs, seven sous. Madame Goujet looked at her a +moment in a serious manner, then she replied: +</p> + +<p> +“My child, it shall be as you wish. I will not refuse you the money as +you are in need of it. Only it’s scarcely the way to pay off your debt; I +say that for your sake, you know. Really now, you should be careful.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise received the lecture with bowed head and stammering excuses. The ten +francs were to make up the amount of a bill she had given her coke merchant. +But on hearing the word “bill,” Madame Goujet became severer still. +She gave herself as an example; she had reduced her expenditure ever since +Goujet’s wages had been lowered from twelve to nine francs a day. When +one was wanting in wisdom whilst young, one dies of hunger in one’s old +age. But she held back and didn’t tell Gervaise that she gave her their +laundry only in order to help her pay off the debt. Before that she had done +all her own washing, and she would have to do it herself again if the laundry +continued taking so much cash out of her pocket. Gervaise spoke her thanks and +left quickly as soon as she had received the ten francs seven sous. Outside on +the landing she was so relieved she wanted to dance. She was becoming used to +the annoying, unpleasant difficulties caused by a shortage of money and +preferred to remember not the embarrassment but the joy in escaping from them. +</p> + +<p> +It was also on that Saturday that Gervaise met with a rather strange adventure +as she descended the Goujets’ staircase. She was obliged to stand up +close against the stair-rail with her basket to make way for a tall bare-headed +woman who was coming up, carrying in her hand a very fresh mackerel, with +bloody gills, in a piece of paper. She recognized Virginie, the girl whose face +she had slapped at the wash-house. They looked each other full in the face. +Gervaise shut her eyes. She thought for a moment that she was going to be hit +in the face with the fish. But no, Virginie even smiled slightly. Then, as her +basket was blocking the staircase, the laundress wished to show how polite she, +too, could be. +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“You are completely excused,” replied the tall brunette. +</p> + +<p> +And they remained conversing together on the stairs, reconciled at once without +having ventured on a single allusion to the past. Virginie, then twenty-nine +years old, had become a superb woman of strapping proportions, her face, +however, looking rather long between her two plaits of jet black hair. She at +once began to relate her history just to show off. She had a husband now; she +had married in the spring an ex-journeyman cabinetmaker, who recently left the +army, and who had applied to be admitted into the police, because a post of +that kind is more to be depended upon and more respectable. She had been out to +buy the mackerel for him. +</p> + +<p> +“He adores mackerel,” said she. “We must spoil them, those +naughty men, mustn’t we? But come up. You shall see our home. We are +standing in a draught here.” +</p> + +<p> +After Gervaise had told of her own marriage and that she had formerly occupied +the very apartment Virginie now had, Virginie urged her even more strongly to +come up since it is always nice to visit a spot where one had been happy. +</p> + +<p> +Virginie had lived for five years on the Left Bank at Gros-Caillou. That was +where she had met her husband while he was still in the army. But she got tired +of it, and wanted to come back to the Goutte-d’Or neighborhood where she +knew everyone. She had only been living in the rooms opposite the Goujets for +two weeks. Oh! everything was still a mess, but they were slowly getting it in +order. +</p> + +<p> +Then, still on the staircase, they finally told each other their names. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Coupeau.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Poisson.” +</p> + +<p> +And from that time forth, they called each other on every possible occasion +Madame Poisson and Madame Coupeau, solely for the pleasure of being madame, +they who in former days had been acquainted when occupying rather questionable +positions. However, Gervaise felt rather mistrustful at heart. Perhaps the tall +brunette had made it up the better to avenge herself for the beating at the +wash-house by concocting some plan worthy of a spiteful hypocritical creature. +Gervaise determined to be upon her guard. For the time being, as Virginie +behaved so nicely, she would be nice also. +</p> + +<p> +In the room upstairs, Poisson, the husband, a man of thirty-five, with a +cadaverous-looking countenance and carroty moustaches and beard, was seated +working at a table near the window. He was making little boxes. His only tools +were a knife, a tiny saw the size of a nail file and a pot of glue. He was +using wood from old cigar boxes, thin boards of unfinished mahogany upon which +he executed fretwork and embellishments of extraordinary delicacy. All year +long he worked at making the same size boxes, only varying them occasionally by +inlay work, new designs for the cover, or putting compartments inside. He did +not sell his work, he distributed it in presents to persons of his +acquaintance. It was for his own amusement, a way of occupying his time while +waiting for his appointment to the police force. It was all that remained with +him from his former occupation of cabinetmaking. +</p> + +<p> +Poisson rose from his seat and politely bowed to Gervaise, when his wife +introduced her as an old friend. But he was no talker; he at once returned to +his little saw. From time to time he merely glanced in the direction of the +mackerel placed on the corner of the chest of drawers. Gervaise was very +pleased to see her old lodging once more. She told them whereabouts her own +furniture stood, and pointed out the place on the floor where Nana had been +born. How strange it was to meet like this again, after so many years! They +never dreamed of running into each other like this and even living in the same +rooms. +</p> + +<p> +Virginie added some further details. Her husband had inherited a little money +from an aunt and he would probably set her up in a shop before long. Meanwhile +she was still sewing. At length, at the end of a full half hour, the laundress +took her leave. Poisson scarcely seemed to notice her departure. While seeing +her to the door, Virginie promised to return the visit. And she would have +Gervaise do her laundry. While Virginie was keeping her in further conversation +on the landing, Gervaise had the feeling that she wanted to say something about +Lantier and her sister Adele, and this notion upset her a bit. But not a word +was uttered respecting those unpleasant things; they parted, wishing each other +good-bye in a very amiable manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, Madame Coupeau.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, Madame Poisson.” +</p> + +<p> +That was the starting point of a great friendship. A week later, Virginie never +passed Gervaise’s shop without going in; and she remained there gossiping +for hours together, to such an extent indeed that Poisson, filled with anxiety, +fearing she had been run over, would come and seek her with his expressionless +and death-like countenance. Now that she was seeing the dressmaker every day +Gervaise became aware of a strange obsession. Every time Virginie began to talk +Gervaise had the feeling Lantier was going to be mentioned. So she had Lantier +on her mind throughout all of Virginie’s visits. This was silly because, +in fact, she didn’t care a bit about Lantier or Adele at this time. She +was quite certain that she had no curiosity as to what had happened to either +of them. But this obsession got hold of her in spite of herself. Anyway, she +didn’t hold it against Virginie, it wasn’t her fault, surely. She +enjoyed being with her and looked forward to her visits. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile winter had come, the Coupeaus’ fourth winter in the Rue de la +Goutte-d’Or. December and January were particularly cold. It froze hard +as it well could. After New Year’s day the snow remained three weeks +without melting. It did not interfere with work, but the contrary, for winter +is the best season for the ironers. It was very pleasant inside the shop! There +was never any ice on the window-panes like there was at the grocer’s and +the hosier’s opposite. The stove was always stuffed with coke and kept +things as hot as a Turkish bath. With the laundry steaming overhead you could +almost imagine it was summer. You were quite comfortable with the doors closed +and so much warmth everywhere that you were tempted to doze off with your eyes +open. Gervaise laughed and said it reminded her of summer in the country. The +street traffic made no noise in the snow and you could hardly hear the +pedestrians who passed by. Only children’s voices were heard in the +silence, especially the noisy band of urchins who had made a long slide in the +gutter near the blacksmith’s shop. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise would sometimes go over to the door, wipe the moisture from one of the +panes with her hand, and look out to see what was happening to her neighborhood +due to this extraordinary cold spell. Not one nose was being poked out of the +adjacent shops. The entire neighborhood was muffled in snow. The only person +she was able to exchange nods with was the coal-dealer next door, who still +walked out bare-headed despite the severe freeze. +</p> + +<p> +What was especially enjoyable in this awful weather was to have some nice hot +coffee in the middle of the day. The workwomen had no cause for complaint. The +mistress made it very strong and without a grain of chicory. It was quite +different to Madame Fauconnier’s coffee, which was like ditch-water. Only +whenever mother Coupeau undertook to make it, it was always an interminable +time before it was ready, because she would fall asleep over the kettle. On +these occasions, when the workwomen had finished their lunch, they would do a +little ironing whilst waiting for the coffee. +</p> + +<p> +It so happened that on the morrow of Twelfth-day half-past twelve struck and +still the coffee was not ready. It seemed to persist in declining to pass +through the strainer. Mother Coupeau tapped against the pot with a tea-spoon; +and one could hear the drops falling slowly, one by one, and without hurrying +themselves any the more. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave it alone,” said tall Clemence; “you’ll make it +thick. To-day there’ll be as much to eat as to drink.” +</p> + +<p> +Tall Clemence was working on a man’s shirt, the plaits of which she +separated with her finger-nail. She had caught a cold, her eyes were +frightfully swollen and her chest was shaken with fits of coughing, which +doubled her up beside the work-table. With all that she had not even a +handkerchief round her neck and she was dressed in some cheap flimsy woolen +stuff in which she shivered. Close by, Madame Putois, wrapped up in flannel +muffled up to her ears, was ironing a petticoat which she turned round the +skirt-board, the narrow end of which rested on the back of a chair; whilst a +sheet laid on the floor prevented the petticoat from getting dirty as it +trailed along the tiles. Gervaise alone occupied half the work-table with some +embroidered muslin curtains, over which she passed her iron in a straight line +with her arms stretched out to avoid making any creases. All on a sudden the +coffee running through noisily caused her to raise her head. It was that +squint-eyed Augustine who had just given it an outlet by thrusting a spoon +through the strainer. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave it alone!” cried Gervaise. “Whatever is the matter +with you? It’ll be like drinking mud now.” +</p> + +<p> +Mother Coupeau had placed five glasses on a corner of the work-table that was +free. The women now left their work. The mistress always poured out the coffee +herself after putting two lumps of sugar into each glass. It was the moment +that they all looked forward to. On this occasion, as each one took her glass +and squatted down on a little stool in front of the stove, the shop-door +opened. Virginie entered, shivering all over. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my children,” said she, “it cuts you in two! I can no +longer feel my ears. The cold is something awful!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, it’s Madame Poisson!” exclaimed Gervaise. “Ah, +well! You’ve come at the right time. You must have some coffee with +us.” +</p> + +<p> +“On my word, I can’t say no. One feels the frost in one’s +bones merely by crossing the street.” +</p> + +<p> +There was still some coffee left, luckily. Mother Coupeau went and fetched a +sixth glass, and Gervaise let Virginie help herself to sugar out of politeness. +The workwomen moved to give Virginie a small space close to the stove. Her nose +was very red, she shivered a bit, pressing her hands which were stiff with cold +around the glass to warm them. She had just come from the grocery store where +you froze to death waiting for a quarter-pound of cheese and so she raved about +the warmth of the shop. It felt so good on one’s skin. After warming up, +she stretched out her long legs and the six of them relaxed together, supping +their coffee slowly, surround by all the work still to be done. Mother Coupeau +and Virginie were the only ones on chairs, the others, on low benches, seemed +to be sitting on the floor. Squint-eyed Augustine had pulled over a corner of +the cloth below the skirt, stretching herself out on it. +</p> + +<p> +No one spoke at first; all kept their noses in their glasses, enjoying their +coffee. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not bad, all the same,” declared Clemence. +</p> + +<p> +But she was seized with a fit of coughing, and almost choked. She leant her +head against the wall to cough with more force. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a bad cough you’ve got,” said Virginie. +“Wherever did you catch it?” +</p> + +<p> +“One never knows!” replied Clemence, wiping her face with her +sleeve. “It must have been the other night. There were two girls who were +flaying each other outside the ‘Grand-Balcony.’ I wanted to see, so +I stood there whilst the snow was falling. Ah, what a drubbing! It was enough +to make one die with laughing. One had her nose almost pulled off; the blood +streamed on the ground. When the other, a great long stick like me, saw the +blood, she slipped away as quick as she could. And I coughed nearly all night. +Besides that too, men are so stupid in bed, they don’t let you have any +covers over you half the time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pretty conduct that,” murmured Madame Putois. “You’re +killing yourself, my girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if it pleases me to kill myself! Life isn’t so very amusing. +Slaving all the blessed day long to earn fifty-five sous, cooking one’s +blood from morning to night in front of the stove; no, you know, I’ve had +enough of it! All the same though, this cough won’t do me the service of +making me croak. It’ll go off the same way it came.” +</p> + +<p> +A short silence ensued. The good-for-nothing Clemence, who led riots in low +dancing establishments, and shrieked like a screech-owl at work, always +saddened everyone with her thoughts of death. Gervaise knew her well, and so +merely said: +</p> + +<p> +“You’re never very gay the morning after a night of high +living.” +</p> + +<p> +The truth was that Gervaise did not like this talk about women fighting. +Because of the flogging at the wash-house it annoyed her whenever anyone spoke +before her and Virginie of kicks with wooden shoes and of slaps in the face. It +so happened, too, that Virginie was looking at her and smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“By the way,” she said quietly, “yesterday I saw some +hair-pulling. They almost tore each other to pieces.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who were they?” Madame Putois inquired. +</p> + +<p> +“The midwife and her maid, you know, a little blonde. What a pest the +girl is! She was yelling at her employer that she had got rid of a child for +the fruit woman and that she was going to tell the police if she wasn’t +paid to keep quiet. So the midwife slapped her right in the face and then the +little blonde jumped on her and started scratching her and pulling her hair, +really—by the roots. The sausage-man had to grab her to put a stop to +it.” +</p> + +<p> +The workwomen laughed. Then they all took a sip of coffee. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you believe that she really got rid of a child?” Clemence +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes! The rumor was all round the neighborhood,” Virginie +answered. “I didn’t see it myself, you understand, but it’s +part of the job. All midwives do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well!” exclaimed Madame Putois. “You have to be pretty +stupid to put yourself in their hands. No thanks, you could be maimed for life. +But there’s a sure way to do it. Drink a glass of holy water every +evening and make the sign of the cross three times over your stomach with your +thumb. Then your troubles will be over.” +</p> + +<p> +Everyone thought mother Coupeau was asleep, but she shook her head in protest. +She knew another way and it was infallible. You had to eat a hard-cooked egg +every two hours, and put spinach leaves on your loins. Squint-eyed Augustine +set up a hen-cackling when she heard this. They had forgotten about her. +Gervaise lifted up the petticoat that was being ironed and found her rolling on +the floor with laughter. She jerked her upright. What was she laughing about? +Was it right for her to be eavesdropping when older people were talking, the +little goose? Anyway it was time for her to deliver the laundry to a friend of +Madame Lerat at Les Batignolles. So Gervaise hung a basket on her arm and +pushed her toward the door. Augustine went off, sobbing and sniveling, dragging +her feet in the snow. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile mother Coupeau, Madame Putois and Clemence were discussing the +effectiveness of hard-cooked eggs and spinach leaves. Then Virginie said +softly: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mon Dieu!</i> you have a fight, and then you make it up, if you have +a generous heart.” She leaned toward Gervaise with a smile and added, +“Really, I don’t hold any grudge against you for that business at +the wash-house. You remember it, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +This was what Gervaise had been dreading. She guessed that the subject of +Lantier and Adele would now come up. +</p> + +<p> +Virginie had moved close to Gervaise so as not to be overheard by the others. +Gervaise, lulled by the excessive heat, felt so limp that she couldn’t +even summon the willpower to change the subject. She foresaw what the tall +brunette would say and her heart was stirred with an emotion which she +didn’t want to admit to herself. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope I’m not hurting your feelings,” Virginie continued. +“Often I’ve had it on the tip of my tongue. But since we are now on +the subject, word of honor, I don’t have any grudge against you.” +</p> + +<p> +She stirred her remaining coffee and then took a small sip. Gervaise, with her +heart in her throat, wondered if Virginie had really forgiven her as completely +as she said, for she seemed to observe sparks in her dark eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” Virginie went on, “you had an excuse. They played +a really rotten, dirty trick on you. To be fair about it, if it had been me, +I’d have taken a knife to her.” +</p> + +<p> +She drank another small sip, then added rapidly without a pause: +</p> + +<p> +“Anyway, it didn’t bring them happiness, <i>mon Dieu</i>! Not a bit +of it. They went to live over at La Glaciere, in a filthy street that was +always muddy. I went two days later to have lunch with them. I can tell you, it +was quite a trip by bus. Well, I found them already fighting. Really, as I came +in they were boxing each other’s ears. Fine pair of love birds! Adele +isn’t worth the rope to hang her. I say that even if she is my own +sister. It would take too long to relate all the nasty tricks she played on me, +and anyhow, it’s between the two of us. As for Lantier—well, +he’s no good either. He’d beat the hide off you for anything, and +with his fist closed too. They fought all the time. The police even came +once.” +</p> + +<p> +Virginie went on about other fights. Oh, she knew of things that would make +your hair stand up. Gervaise listened in silence, her face pale. It was nearly +seven years since she had heard a word about Lantier. She hadn’t realized +what a strong curiosity she had as to what had become of the poor man, even +though he had treated her badly. And she never would have believed that just +the mention of his name could put such a glowing warmth in the pit of her +stomach. She certainly had no reason to be jealous of Adele any more but she +rejoiced to think of her body all bruised from the beatings. She could have +listened to Virginie all night, but she didn’t ask any questions, not +wanting to appear much interested. +</p> + +<p> +Virginie stopped to sip at her coffee. Gervaise, realizing that she was +expected to say something, asked, with a pretence of indifference: +</p> + +<p> +“Are they still living at La Glaciere?” +</p> + +<p> +“No!” the other replied. “Didn’t I tell you? They +separated last week. One morning, Adele moved out and Lantier didn’t +chase after her.” +</p> + +<p> +“So they’re separated!” Gervaise exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you talking about?” Clemence asked, interrupting her +conversation with mother Coupeau and Madame Putois. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody you know,” said Virginie. +</p> + +<p> +She was looking at Gervaise carefully and could see that she was upset. She +moved still closer, maliciously finding pleasure in bringing up these old +stories. Of a sudden she asked Gervaise what she would do if Lantier came round +here. Men were really such strange creatures, he might decide to return to his +first love. This caused Gervaise to sit up very straight and dignified. She was +a married woman; she would send Lantier off immediately. There was no +possibility of anything further between them, not even a handshake. She would +not even want to look that man in the face. +</p> + +<p> +“I know that Etienne is his son, and that’s a relationship that +remains,” she said. “If Lantier wants to see his son, I’ll +send the boy to him because you can’t stop a father from seeing his +child. But as for myself, I don’t want him to touch me even with the tip +of his finger. That is all finished.” +</p> + +<p> +Desiring to break off this conversation, she seemed to awake with a start and +called out to the women: +</p> + +<p> +“You ladies! Do you think all these clothes are going to iron themselves? +Get to work!” +</p> + +<p> +The workwomen, slow from the heat and general laziness, didn’t hurry +themselves, but went right on talking, gossiping about other people they had +known. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise shook herself and got to her feet. Couldn’t earn money by +sitting all day. She was the first to return to the ironing, but found that her +curtains had been spotted by the coffee and she had to rub out the stains with +a damp cloth. The other women were now stretching and getting ready to begin +ironing. +</p> + +<p> +Clemence had a terrible attack of coughing as soon as she moved. Finally she +was able to return to the shirt she had been doing. Madame Putois began to work +on the petticoat again. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, good-bye,” said Virginie. “I only came out for a +quarter-pound of Swiss cheese. Poisson must think I’ve frozen to death on +the way.” +</p> + +<p> +She had only just stepped outside when she turned back to say that Augustine +was at the end of the street, sliding on the ice with some urchins. The +squint-eyed imp rushed in all red-faced and out of breath with snow all in her +hair. She didn’t mind the scolding she received, merely saying that she +hadn’t been able to walk fast because of the ice and then some brats +threw snow at her. +</p> + +<p> +The afternoons were all the same these winter days. The laundry was the refuge +for anyone in the neighborhood who was cold. There was an endless procession of +gossiping women. Gervaise took pride in the comforting warmth of her shop and +welcomed those who came in, “holding a salon,” as the Lorilleuxs +and the Boches remarked meanly. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was always thoughtful and generous. Sometimes she even invited poor +people in if she saw them shivering outside. A friendship sprang up with an +elderly house-painter who was seventy. He lived in an attic room and was slowly +dying of cold and hunger. His three sons had been killed in the war. He +survived the best he could, but it had been two years since he had been able to +hold a paint-brush in his hand. Whenever Gervaise saw Pere Bru walking outside, +she would call him in and arrange a place for him close to the stove. Often she +gave him some bread and cheese. Pere Bru’s face was as wrinkled as a +withered apple. He would sit there, with his stooping shoulders and his white +beard, without saying a word, just listening to the coke sputtering in the +stove. Maybe he was thinking of his fifty years of hard work on high ladders, +his fifty years spent painting doors and whitewashing ceilings in every corner +of Paris. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Pere Bru,” Gervaise would say, “what are you thinking +of now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing much. All sorts of things,” he would answer quietly. +</p> + +<p> +The workwomen tried to joke with him to cheer him up, saying he was worrying +over his love affairs, but he scarcely listened to them before he fell back +into his habitual attitude of meditative melancholy. +</p> + +<p> +Virginie now frequently spoke to Gervaise of Lantier. She seemed to find +amusement in filling her mind with ideas of her old lover just for the pleasure +of embarrassing her by making suggestions. One day she related that she had met +him; then, as the laundress took no notice, she said nothing further, and it +was only on the morrow that she added he had spoken about her for a long time, +and with a great show of affection. Gervaise was much upset by these reports +whispered in her ear in a corner of the shop. The mention of Lantier’s +name always caused a worried sensation in the pit of her stomach. She certainly +thought herself strong; she wished to lead the life of an industrious woman, +because labor is the half of happiness. So she never considered Coupeau in this +matter, having nothing to reproach herself with as regarded her husband, not +even in her thoughts. But with a hesitating and suffering heart, she would +think of the blacksmith. It seemed to her that the memory of Lantier—that +slow possession which she was resuming—rendered her unfaithful to Goujet, +to their unavowed love, sweet as friendship. She passed sad days whenever she +felt herself guilty towards her good friend. She would have liked to have had +no affection for anyone but him outside of her family. It was a feeling far +above all carnal thoughts, for the signs of which upon her burning face +Virginie was ever on the watch. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as spring came Gervaise often went and sought refuge with Goujet. She +could no longer sit musing on a chair without immediately thinking of her first +lover; she pictured him leaving Adele, packing his clothes in the bottom of +their old trunk, and returning to her in a cab. The days when she went out, she +was seized with the most foolish fears in the street; she was ever thinking she +heard Lantier’s footsteps behind her. She did not dare turn round, but +tremblingly fancied she felt his hands seizing her round the waist. He was, no +doubt, spying upon her; he would appear before her some afternoon; and the bare +idea threw her into a cold perspiration, because he would to a certainty kiss +her on the ear, as he used to do in former days solely to tease her. It was +this kiss which frightened her; it rendered her deaf beforehand; it filled her +with a buzzing amidst which she could only distinguish the sound of her heart +beating violently. So, as soon as these fears seized upon her, the forge was +her only shelter; there, under Goujet’s protection, she once more became +easy and smiling, as his sonorous hammer drove away her disagreeable +reflections. +</p> + +<p> +What a happy time! The laundress took particular pains with the washing of her +customer in the Rue des Portes-Blanches; she always took it home herself +because that errand, every Friday, was a ready excuse for passing through the +Rue Marcadet and looking in at the forge. The moment she turned the corner of +the street she felt light and gay, as though in the midst of those plots of +waste land surrounded by grey factories, she were out in the country; the +roadway black with coal-dust, the plumage of steam over the roofs, amused her +as much as a moss-covered path leading through masses of green foliage in a +wood in the environs; and she loved the dull horizon, streaked by the tall +factory-chimneys, the Montmartre heights, which hid the heavens from view, the +chalky white houses pierced with the uniform openings of their windows. She +would slacken her steps as she drew near, jumping over the pools of water, and +finding a pleasure in traversing the deserted ins and outs of the yard full of +old building materials. Right at the further end the forge shone with a +brilliant light, even at mid-day. Her heart leapt with the dance of the +hammers. When she entered, her face turned quite red, the little fair hairs at +the nape of her neck flew about like those of a woman arriving at some +lovers’ meeting. Goujet was expecting her, his arms and chest bare, +whilst he hammered harder on the anvil on those days so as to make himself +heard at a distance. He divined her presence, and greeted her with a good +silent laugh in his yellow beard. But she would not let him leave off his work; +she begged him to take up his hammer again, because she loved him the more when +he wielded it with his big arms swollen with muscles. She would go and give +Etienne a gentle tap on the cheek, as he hung on to the bellows, and then +remain for an hour watching the rivets. +</p> + +<p> +The two did not exchange a dozen words. They could not have more completely +satisfied their love if alone in a room with the door double-locked. The +snickering of Salted-Mouth, otherwise Drink-without-Thirst, did not bother them +in the least, for they no longer even heard him. At the end of a quarter of an +hour she would begin to feel slightly oppressed; the heat, the powerful smell, +the ascending smoke, made her dizzy, whilst the dull thuds of the hammers shook +her from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet. Then she desired +nothing more; it was her pleasure. Had Goujet pressed her in his arms it would +not have procured her so sweet an emotion. She drew close to him that she might +feel the wind raised by his hammer beat upon her cheek, and become, as it were, +a part of the blow he struck. When the sparks made her soft hands smart, she +did not withdraw them; on the contrary, she enjoyed the rain of fire which +stung her skin. He for certain, divined the happiness which she tasted there; +he always kept the most difficult work for the Fridays, so as to pay his court +to her with all his strength and all his skill; he no longer spared himself at +the risk of splitting the anvils in two, as he panted and his loins vibrated +with the joy he was procuring her. All one spring-time their love thus filled +Goujet with the rumbling of a storm. It was an idyll amongst giant-like labor +in the midst of the glare of the coal fire, and of the shaking of the shed, the +cracking carcass of which was black with soot. All that beaten iron, kneaded +like red wax, preserved the rough marks of their love. When on the Fridays the +laundress parted from Golden-Mug, she slowly reascended the Rue des +Poissonniers, contented and tired, her mind and her body alike tranquil. +</p> + +<p> +Little by little, her fear of Lantier diminished; her good sense got the better +of her. At that time she would still have led a happy life, had it not been for +Coupeau, who was decidedly going to the bad. One day she just happened to be +returning from the forge, when she fancied she recognized Coupeau inside Pere +Colombe’s l’Assommoir, in the act of treating himself to a round of +vitriol in the company of My-Boots, Bibi-the-Smoker, and Salted-Mouth, +otherwise Drink-without-Thirst. She passed quickly by, so as not to seem to be +spying on them. But she glanced back; it was indeed Coupeau who was tossing his +little glass of bad brandy down his throat with a gesture already familiar. He +lied then; so he went in for brandy now! She returned home in despair; all her +old dread of brandy took possession of her. She forgave the wine, because wine +nourishes the workman; all kinds of spirit, on the contrary, were filth, +poisons which destroyed in the workman the taste for bread. Ah! the government +ought to prevent the manufacture of such horrid stuff! +</p> + +<p> +On arriving at the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or, she found the whole house +upset. Her workwomen had left the shop, and were in the courtyard looking up +above. She questioned Clemence. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s old Bijard who’s giving his wife a hiding,” +replied the ironer. “He was in the doorway, as drunk as a trooper, +watching for her return from the wash-house. He whacked her up the stairs, and +now he’s finishing her off up there in their room. Listen, can’t +you hear her shrieks?” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise hastened to the spot. She felt some friendship for her washer-woman, +Madame Bijard, who was a very courageous woman. She had hoped to put a stop to +what was going on. Upstairs, on the sixth floor the door of the room was wide +open, some lodgers were shouting on the landing, whilst Madame Boche, standing +in front of the door, was calling out: +</p> + +<p> +“Will you leave off? I shall send for the police; do you hear?” +</p> + +<p> +No one dared to venture inside the room, because it was known that Bijard was +like a brute beast when he was drunk. As a matter of fact, he was scarcely ever +sober. The rare days on which he worked, he placed a bottle of brandy beside +his blacksmith’s vise, gulping some of it down every half hour. He could +not keep himself going any other way. He would have blazed away like a torch if +anyone had placed a lighted match close to his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“But we mustn’t let her be murdered!” said Gervaise, all in a +tremble. +</p> + +<p> +And she entered. The room, an attic, and very clean, was bare and cold, almost +emptied by the drunken habits of the man, who took the very sheets from the bed +to turn them into liquor. During the struggle the table had rolled away to the +window, the two chairs, knocked over, had fallen with their legs in the air. In +the middle of the room, on the tile floor, lay Madame Bijard, all bloody, her +skirts, still soaked with the water of the wash-house, clinging to her thighs, +her hair straggling in disorder. She was breathing heavily, with a rattle in +her throat, as she muttered prolonged ohs! each time she received a blow from +the heel of Bijard’s boot. He had knocked her down with his fists, and +now he stamped upon her. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, strumpet! Ah, strumpet! Ah strumpet!” grunted he in a choking +voice, accompanying each blow with the word, taking a delight in repeating it, +and striking all the harder the more he found his voice failing him. +</p> + +<p> +Then when he could no longer speak, he madly continued to kick with a dull +sound, rigid in his ragged blue blouse and overalls, his face turned purple +beneath his dirty beard, and his bald forehead streaked with big red blotches. +The neighbors on the landing related that he was beating her because she had +refused him twenty sous that morning. Boche’s voice was heard at the foot +of the staircase. He was calling Madame Boche, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Come down; let them kill each other, it’ll be so much scum the +less.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Pere Bru had followed Gervaise into the room. Between them they were +trying to get him towards the door. But he turned round, speechless and foaming +at the lips, and in his pale eyes the alcohol was blazing with a murderous +glare. The laundress had her wrist injured; the old workman was knocked against +the table. On the floor, Madame Bijard was breathing with greater difficulty, +her mouth wide open, her eyes closed. Now Bijard kept missing her. He had madly +returned to the attack, but blinded by rage, his blows fell on either side, and +at times he almost fell when his kicks went into space. And during all this +onslaught, Gervaise beheld in a corner of the room little Lalie, then four +years old, watching her father murdering her mother. The child held in her +arms, as though to protect her, her sister Henriette, only recently weaned. She +was standing up, her head covered with a cotton cap, her face very pale and +grave. Her large black eyes gazed with a fixedness full of thought and were +without a tear. +</p> + +<p> +When at length Bijard, running against a chair, stumbled onto the tiled floor, +where they left him snoring, Pere Bru helped Gervaise to raise Madame Bijard. +The latter was now sobbing bitterly; and Lalie, drawing near, watched her +crying, being used to such sights and already resigned to them. As the +laundress descended the stairs, in the silence of the now quieted house, she +kept seeing before her that look of this child of four, as grave and courageous +as that of a woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Coupeau is on the other side of the street,” called out +Clemence as soon as she caught sight of her. “He looks awfully +drunk.” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau was just then crossing the street. He almost smashed a pane of glass +with his shoulder as he missed the door. He was in a state of complete +drunkenness, with his teeth clinched and his nose inflamed. And Gervaise at +once recognized the vitriol of l’Assommoir in the poisoned blood which +paled his skin. She tried to joke and get him to bed, the same as on the days +when the wine had made him merry; but he pushed her aside without opening his +lips, and raised his fist in passing as he went to bed of his own accord. He +made Gervaise think of the other—the drunkard who was snoring upstairs, +tired out by the blows he had struck. A cold shiver passed over her. She +thought of the men she knew—of her husband, of Goujet, of +Lantier—her heart breaking, despairing of ever being happy. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"></a> +CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<p> +Gervaise’s saint’s day fell on the 19th of June. On such occasions, +the Coupeaus always made a grand display; they feasted till they were as round +as balls, and their stomachs were filled for the rest of the week. There was a +complete clear out of all the money they had. The moment there were a few sous +in the house they went in gorging. They invented saints for those days which +the almanac had not provided with any, just for the sake of giving themselves a +pretext for gormandizing. Virginie highly commended Gervaise for stuffing +herself with all sorts of savory dishes. When one has a husband who turns all +he can lay hands on into drink, it’s good to line one’s stomach +well, and not to let everything go off in liquids. Since the money would +disappear anyway, surely it was better to pay it to the butcher. Gervaise used +that excuse to justify overeating, saying it was Coupeau’s fault if they +could no longer save a sou. She had grown considerably fatter, and she limped +more than before because her leg, now swollen with fat, seemed to be getting +gradually shorter. +</p> + +<p> +That year they talked about her saint’s day a good month beforehand. They +thought of dishes and smacked their lips in advance. All the shop had a +confounded longing to junket. They wanted a merry-making of the right +sort—something out of the ordinary and highly successful. One does not +have so many opportunities for enjoyment. What most troubled the laundress was +to decide whom to invite; she wished to have twelve persons at table, no more, +no less. She, her husband, mother Coupeau, and Madame Lerat, already made four +members of the family. She would also have the Goujets and the Poissons. +Originally, she had decided not to invite her workwomen, Madame Putois and +Clemence, so as not to make them too familiar; but as the projected feast was +being constantly spoken of in their presence, and their mouths watered, she +ended by telling them to come. Four and four, eight, and two are ten. Then, +wishing particularly to have twelve, she became reconciled with the Lorilleuxs, +who for some time past had been hovering around her; at least it was agreed +that the Lorilleuxs should come to dinner, and that peace should be made with +glasses in hand. You really shouldn’t keep family quarrels going forever. +When the Boches heard that a reconciliation was planned, they also sought to +make up with Gervaise, and so they had to be invited to the dinner too. That +would make fourteen, not counting the children. Never before had she given such +a large dinner and the thought frightened and excited her at the same time. +</p> + +<p> +The saint’s day happened to fall on a Monday. It was a piece of luck. +Gervaise counted on the Sunday afternoon to begin the cooking. On the Saturday, +whilst the workwomen hurried with their work, there was a long discussion in +the shop with the view of finally deciding upon what the feast should consist +of. For three weeks past one thing alone had been chosen—a fat roast +goose. There was a gluttonous look on every face whenever it was mentioned. The +goose was even already bought. Mother Coupeau went and fetched it to let +Clemence and Madame Putois feel its weight. And they uttered all kinds of +exclamations; it looked such an enormous bird, with its rough skin all swelled +out with yellow fat. +</p> + +<p> +“Before that there will be the pot-au-feu,” said Gervaise, +“the soup and just a small piece of boiled beef, it’s always good. +Then we must have something in the way of a stew.” +</p> + +<p> +Tall Clemence suggested rabbit, but they were always having that, everyone was +sick of it. Gervaise wanted something more distinguished. Madame Putois having +spoken of stewed veal, they looked at one another with broad smiles. It was a +real idea, nothing would make a better impression than a veal stew. +</p> + +<p> +“And after that,” resumed Gervaise, “we must have some other +dish with a sauce.” +</p> + +<p> +Mother Coupeau proposed fish. But the others made a grimace, as they banged +down their irons. None of them liked fish; it was not a bit satisfying; and +besides that it was full of bones. Squint-eyed Augustine, having dared to +observe that she liked skate, Clemence shut her mouth for her with a good sound +clout. At length the mistress thought of stewed pig’s back and potatoes, +which restored the smiles to every countenance. Then Virginie entered like a +puff of wind, with a strange look on her face. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve come just at the right time!” exclaimed Gervaise. +“Mother Coupeau, do show her the bird.” +</p> + +<p> +And mother Coupeau went a second time and fetched the goose, which Virginie had +to take in her hands. She uttered no end of exclamations. By Jove! It was +heavy! But she soon laid it down on the work-table, between a petticoat and a +bundle of shirts. Her thoughts were elsewhere. She dragged Gervaise into the +back-room. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, little one,” murmured she rapidly, “I’ve come +to warn you. You’ll never guess who I just met at the corner of the +street. Lantier, my dear! He’s hovering about on the watch; so I hastened +here at once. It frightened me on your account, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +The laundress turned quite pale. What could the wretched man want with her? +Coming, too, like that, just in the midst of the preparations for the feast. +She had never had any luck; she could not even be allowed to enjoy herself +quietly. But Virginie replied that she was very foolish to put herself out +about it like that. Why! If Lantier dared to follow her about, all she had to +do was to call a policeman and have him locked up. In the month since her +husband had been appointed a policeman, Virginie had assumed rather lordly +manners and talked of arresting everybody. She began to raise her voice, saying +that she wished some passer-by would pinch her bottom so that she could take +the fresh fellow to the police station herself and turn him over to her +husband. Gervaise signaled her to be quiet since the workwomen were listening +and led the way back into the shop, reopening the discussion about the dinner. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, don’t we need a vegetable?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not peas with bacon?” said Virginie. “I like nothing +better.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, peas with bacon.” The others approved. Augustine was so +enthusiastic that she jabbed the poker into the stove harder than ever. +</p> + +<p> +By three o’clock on the morrow, Sunday, mother Coupeau had lighted their +two stoves and also a third one of earthenware which they had borrowed from the +Boches. At half-past three the pot-au-feu was boiling away in an enormous +earthenware pot lent by the eating-house keeper next door, the family pot +having been found too small. They had decided to cook the veal and the +pig’s back the night before, since both of those dishes are better when +reheated. But the cream sauce for the veal would not be prepared until just +before sitting down for the feast. +</p> + +<p> +There was still plenty of work left for Monday: the soup, the peas with bacon, +the roast goose. The inner room was lit by three fires. Butter was sizzling in +the pans and emitting a sharp odor of burnt flour. +</p> + +<p> +Mother Coupeau and Gervaise, with white aprons tied on, were bustling all +around, cleaning parsley, dashing for salt and pepper, turning the meat. They +had sent Coupeau away so as not to have him underfoot, but they still had +plenty of people looking in throughout the afternoon. The luscious smells from +the kitchen had spread through the entire building so that neighboring ladies +came into the shop on various pretexts, very curious to see what was being +cooked. +</p> + +<p> +Virginie put in an appearance towards five o’clock. She had again seen +Lantier; really, it was impossible to go down the street now without meeting +him. Madame Boche also had just caught sight of him standing at the corner of +the pavement with his head thrust forward in an uncommonly sly manner. Then +Gervaise who had at that moment intended going for a sou’s worth of burnt +onions for the pot-au-feu, began to tremble from head to foot and did not dare +leave the house; the more so, as the concierge and the dressmaker put her into +a terrible fright by relating horrible stories of men waiting for women with +knives and pistols hidden beneath their overcoats. Well, yes! one reads of such +things every day in the newspapers. When one of those scoundrels gets his +monkey up on discovering an old love leading a happy life he becomes capable of +everything. Virginie obligingly offered to run and fetch the burnt onions. +Women should always help one another, they could not let that little thing be +murdered. When she returned she said that Lantier was no longer there; he had +probably gone off on finding he was discovered. In spite of that thought, he +was the subject of conversation around the saucepans until night-time. When +Madame Boche advised her to inform Coupeau, Gervaise became really terrified, +and implored her not to say a word about it. Oh, yes, wouldn’t that be a +nice situation! Her husband must have become suspicious already because for the +last few days, at night, he would swear to himself and bang the wall with his +fists. The mere thought that the two men might destroy each other because of +her made her shudder. She knew that Coupeau was jealous enough to attack +Lantier with his shears. +</p> + +<p> +While the four of them had been deep in contemplating this drama, the saucepans +on the banked coals of the stoves had been quietly simmering. When mother +Coupeau lifted the lids, the veal and the pig’s back were discreetly +bubbling. The pot-au-feu was steadily steaming with snore-like sounds. +Eventually each of them dipped a piece of bread into the soup to taste the +bouillon. +</p> + +<p> +At length Monday arrived. Now that Gervaise was going to have fourteen persons +at table, she began to fear that she would not be able to find room for them +all. She decided that they should dine in the shop; and the first thing in the +morning she took measurements so as to settle which way she should place the +table. After that they had to remove all the clothes and take the ironing-table +to pieces; the top of this laid on to some shorter trestles was to be the +dining-table. But just in the midst of all this moving a customer appeared and +made a scene because she had been waiting for her washing ever since the +Friday; they were humbugging her, she would have her things at once. Then +Gervaise tried to excuse herself and lied boldly; it was not her fault, she was +cleaning out her shop, the workmen would not be there till the morrow; and she +pacified her customer and got rid of her by promising to busy herself with her +things at the earliest possible moment. Then, as soon as the woman had left, +she showed her temper. Really, if you listened to all your customers, +you’d never have time to eat. You could work yourself to death like a dog +on a leash! Well! No matter who came in to-day, even if they offered one +hundred thousand francs, she wouldn’t touch an iron on this Monday, +because it was her turn to enjoy herself. +</p> + +<p> +The entire morning was spent in completing the purchases. Three times Gervaise +went out and returned laden like a mule. But just as she was going to order +wine she noticed that she had not sufficient money left. She could easily have +got it on credit; only she could not be without money in the house, on account +of the thousand little expenses that one is liable to forget. And mother +Coupeau and she had lamented together in the back-room as they reckoned that +they required at least twenty francs. How could they obtain them, those four +pieces of a hundred sous each? Mother Coupeau who had at one time done the +charring for a little actress of the Theatre des Batignolles, was the first to +suggest the pawn-shop. Gervaise laughed with relief. How stupid she was not to +have thought of it! She quickly folded her black silk dress upon a towel which +she then pinned together. Then she hid the bundle under mother Coupeau’s +apron, telling her to keep it very flat against her stomach, on account of the +neighbors who had no need to know; and she went and watched at the door to see +that the old woman was not followed. But the latter had only gone as far as the +charcoal dealer’s when she called her back. +</p> + +<p> +“Mamma! Mamma!” +</p> + +<p> +She made her return to the shop, and taking her wedding-ring off her finger +said: +</p> + +<p> +“Here, put this with it. We shall get all the more.” +</p> + +<p> +When mother Coupeau brought her twenty-five francs, she danced for joy. She +would order an extra six bottles of wine, sealed wine to drink with the roast. +The Lorilleuxs would be crushed. +</p> + +<p> +For a fortnight past it had been the Coupeaus’ dream to crush the +Lorilleuxs. Was it not true that those sly ones, the man and his wife, a truly +pretty couple, shut themselves up whenever they had anything nice to eat as +though they had stolen it? Yes, they covered up the window with a blanket to +hide the light and make believe that they were already asleep in bed. This +stopped anyone from coming up, and so the Lorilleuxs could stuff everything +down, just the two of them. They were even careful the next day not to throw +the bones into the garbage so that no one would know what they had eaten. +Madame Lorilleux would walk to the end of the street to toss them into a sewer +opening. One morning Gervaise surprised her emptying a basket of oyster shells +there. Oh, those penny-pinchers were never open-handed, and all their mean +contrivances came from their desire to appear to be poor. Well, we’d show +them, we’d prove to them that we weren’t mean. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise would have laid her table in the street, had she been able to, just +for the sake of inviting each passer-by. Money was not invented that it should +be allowed to grow moldy, was it? It is pretty when it shines all new in the +sunshine. She resembled them so little now, that on the days when she had +twenty sous she arranged things to let people think that she had forty. +</p> + +<p> +Mother Coupeau and Gervaise talked of the Lorilleuxs whilst they laid the cloth +about three o’clock. They had hung some big curtains at the windows; but +as it was very warm the door was left open and the whole street passed in front +of the little table. The two women did not place a decanter, or a bottle, or a +salt-cellar, without trying to arrange them in such a way as to annoy the +Lorilleuxs. They had arranged their seats so as to give them a full view of the +superbly laid cloth, and they had reserved the best crockery for them, well +knowing that the porcelain plates would create a great effect. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, mamma,” cried Gervaise; “don’t give them those +napkins! I’ve two damask ones.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, good!” murmured the old woman; “that’ll break +their hearts, that’s certain.” +</p> + +<p> +And they smiled to each other as they stood up on either side of that big white +table on which the fourteen knives and forks, placed all round, caused them to +swell with pride. It had the appearance of the altar of some chapel in the +middle of the shop. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s because they’re so stingy themselves!” resumed +Gervaise. “You know they lied last month when the woman went about +everywhere saying that she had lost a piece of gold chain as she was taking the +work home. The idea! There’s no fear of her ever losing anything! It was +simply a way of making themselves out very poor and of not giving you your five +francs.” +</p> + +<p> +“As yet I’ve only seen my five francs twice,” said mother +Coupeau. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll bet next month they’ll concoct some other story. That +explains why they cover their window up when they have a rabbit to eat. +Don’t you see? One would have the right to say to them: ‘As you can +afford a rabbit you can certainly give five francs to your mother!’ Oh! +they’re just rotten! What would have become of you if I hadn’t +taken you to live with us?” +</p> + +<p> +Mother Coupeau slowly shook her head. That day she was all against the +Lorilleuxs, because of the great feast the Coupeaus were giving. She loved +cooking, the little gossipings round the saucepans, the place turned +topsy-turvy by the revels of saints’ days. Besides she generally got on +pretty well with Gervaise. On other days when they plagued one another as +happens in all families, the old woman grumbled saying she was wretchedly +unfortunate in thus being at her daughter-in-law’s mercy. In point of +fact she probably had some affection for Madame Lorilleux who after all was her +daughter. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” continued Gervaise, “you wouldn’t be so fat, +would you, if you were living with them? And no coffee, no snuff, no little +luxuries of any sort! Tell me, would they have given you two mattresses to your +bed?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, that’s very certain,” replied mother Coupeau. +“When they arrive I shall place myself so as to have a good view of the +door to see the faces they’ll make.” +</p> + +<p> +Thinking of the faces they would make gave them pleasure ahead of time. +However, they couldn’t remain standing there admiring the table. The +Coupeaus had lunched very late on just a bite or two, because the stoves were +already in use, and because they did not want to dirty any dishes needed for +the evening. By four o’clock the two women were working very hard. The +huge goose was being cooked on a spit. Squint-eyed Augustine was sitting on a +low bench solemnly basting the goose with a long-handled spoon. Gervaise was +busy with the peas with bacon. Mother Coupeau, kept spinning around, a bit +confused, waiting for the right time to begin reheating the pork and the veal. +</p> + +<p> +Towards five o’clock the guests began to arrive. First of all came the +two workwomen, Clemence and Madame Putois, both in their Sunday best, the +former in blue, the latter in black; Clemence carried a geranium, Madame Putois +a heliotrope, and Gervaise, whose hands were just then smothered with flour, +had to kiss each of them on both cheeks with her arms behind her back. Then +following close upon their heels entered Virginie dressed like a lady in a +printed muslin costume with a sash and a bonnet though she had only a few steps +to come. She brought a pot of red carnations. She took the laundress in her big +arms and squeezed her tight. At length Boche appeared with a pot of pansies and +Madame Boche with a pot of mignonette; then came Madame Lerat with a balm-mint, +the pot of which had dirtied her violet merino dress. All these people kissed +each other and gathered together in the back-room in the midst of the three +stoves and the roasting apparatus, which gave out a stifling heat. The noise +from the saucepans drowned the voices. A dress catching in the Dutch oven +caused quite an emotion. The smell of roast goose was so strong that it made +their mouths water. And Gervaise was very pleasant, thanking everyone for their +flowers without however letting that interfere with her preparing the +thickening for the stewed veal at the bottom of a soup plate. She had placed +the pots in the shop at one end of the table without removing the white paper +that was round them. A sweet scent of flowers mingled with the odor of cooking. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want any assistance?” asked Virginie. “Just fancy, +you’ve been three days preparing all this feast and it will be gobbled up +in no time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you know,” replied Gervaise, “it wouldn’t +prepare itself. No, don’t dirty your hands. You see everything’s +ready. There’s only the soup to warm.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they all made themselves comfortable. The ladies laid their shawls and +their caps on the bed and pinned up their skirts so as not to soil them. Boche +sent his wife back to the concierge’s lodge until time to eat and had +cornered Clemence in a corner trying to find out if she was ticklish. She was +gasping for breath, as the mere thought of being tickled sent shivers through +her. So as not to bother the cooks, the other ladies had gone into the shop and +were standing against the wall facing the table. They were talking through the +door though, and as they could not hear very well, they were continually +invading the back-room and crowding around Gervaise, who would forget what she +was doing to answer them. +</p> + +<p> +There were a few stories which brought sly laughter. When Virginie mentioned +that she hadn’t eaten for two days in order to have more room for +today’s feast, tall Clemence said that she had cleaned herself out that +morning with an enema like the English do. Then Boche suggested a way of +digesting the food quickly by squeezing oneself after each course, another +English custom. After all, when you were invited to dinner, wasn’t it +polite to eat as much as you could? Veal and pork and goose are placed out for +the cats to eat. The hostess didn’t need to worry a bit, they were going +to clean their plates so thoroughly that she wouldn’t have to wash them. +</p> + +<p> +All of them kept coming to smell the air above the saucepans and the roaster. +The ladies began to act like young girls, scurrying from room to room and +pushing each other. +</p> + +<p> +Just as they were all jumping about and shouting by way of amusement, Goujet +appeared. He was so timid he scarcely dared enter, but stood still, holding a +tall white rose-tree in his arms, a magnificent plant with a stem that reached +to his face and entangled the flowers in his beard. Gervaise ran to him, her +cheeks burning from the heat of the stoves. But he did not know how to get rid +of his pot; and when she had taken it from his hands he stammered, not daring +to kiss her. It was she who was obliged to stand on tip-toe and place her cheek +against his lips; he was so agitated that even then he kissed her roughly on +the eye almost blinding her. They both stood trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Monsieur Goujet, it’s too lovely!” said she, placing the +rose-tree beside the other flowers which it overtopped with the whole of its +tuft of foliage. +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all, not at all!” repeated he, unable to say anything else. +</p> + +<p> +Then, after sighing deeply, he slightly recovered himself and stated that she +was not to expect his mother; she was suffering from an attack of sciatica. +Gervaise was greatly grieved; she talked of putting a piece of the goose on one +side as she particularly wished Madame Goujet to have a taste of the bird. No +one else was expected. Coupeau was no doubt strolling about in the neighborhood +with Poisson whom he had called for directly after his lunch; they would be +home directly, they had promised to be back punctually at six. Then as the soup +was almost ready, Gervaise called to Madame Lerat, saying that she thought it +was time to go and fetch the Lorilleuxs. Madame Lerat became at once very +grave; it was she who had conducted all the negotiations and who had settled +how everything should pass between the two families. She put her cap and shawl +on again and went upstairs very stiffly in her skirts, looking very stately. +Down below the laundress continued to stir her vermicelli soup without saying a +word. The guests suddenly became serious and solemnly waited. +</p> + +<p> +It was Madame Lerat who appeared first. She had gone round by the street so as +to give more pomp to the reconciliation. She held the shop-door wide open +whilst Madame Lorilleux, wearing a silk dress, stopped at the threshold. All +the guests had risen from their seats; Gervaise went forward and kissing her +sister-in-law as had been agreed, said: +</p> + +<p> +“Come in. It’s all over, isn’t it? We’ll both be nice +to each other.” +</p> + +<p> +And Madame Lorilleux replied: +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be only too happy if we’re so always.” +</p> + +<p> +When she had entered Lorilleux also stopped at the threshold and he likewise +waited to be embraced before penetrating into the shop. Neither the one nor the +other had brought a bouquet. They had decided not to do so as they thought it +would look too much like giving way to Clump-clump if they carried flowers with +them the first time they set foot in her home. Gervaise called to Augustine to +bring two bottles of wine. Then, filling some glasses on a corner of the table, +she called everyone to her. And each took a glass and drank to the good +friendship of the family. There was a pause whilst the guests were drinking, +the ladies raising their elbows and emptying their glasses to the last drop. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing is better before soup,” declared Boche, smacking his lips. +</p> + +<p> +Mother Coupeau had placed herself opposite the door to see the faces the +Lorilleuxs would make. She pulled Gervaise by the skirt and dragged her into +the back-room. And as they both leant over the soup they conversed rapidly in a +low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Huh! What a sight!” said the old woman. “You couldn’t +see them; but I was watching. When she caught sight of the table her face +twisted around like that, the corners of her mouth almost touched her eyes; and +as for him, it nearly choked him, he coughed and coughed. Now just look at them +over there; they’ve no saliva left in their mouths, they’re chewing +their lips.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s quite painful to see people as jealous as that,” +murmured Gervaise. +</p> + +<p> +Really the Lorilleuxs had a funny look about them. No one of course likes to be +crushed; in families especially when the one succeeds, the others do not like +it; that is only natural. Only one keeps it in, one does not make an exhibition +of oneself. Well! The Lorilleuxs could not keep it in. It was more than a match +for them. They squinted—their mouths were all on one side. In short it +was so apparent that the other guests looked at them, and asked them if they +were unwell. Never would they be able to stomach this table with its fourteen +place-settings, its white linen table cloth, its slices of bread cut in +advance, all in the style of a first-class restaurant. Mme. Lorilleux went +around the table, surreptitiously fingering the table cloth, tortured by the +thought that it was a new one. +</p> + +<p> +“Everything’s ready!” cried Gervaise as she reappeared with a +smile, her arms bare and her little fair curls blowing over her temples. +</p> + +<p> +“If the boss would only come,” resumed the laundress, “we +might begin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well!” said Madame Lorilleux, “the soup will be cold by +then. Coupeau always forgets. You shouldn’t have let him go off.” +</p> + +<p> +It was already half-past six. Everything was burning now; the goose would be +overdone. Then Gervaise, feeling quite dejected, talked of sending someone to +all the wineshops in the neighborhood to find Coupeau. And as Goujet offered to +go, she decided to accompany him. Virginie, anxious about her husband went +also. The three of them, bareheaded, quite blocked up the pavement. The +blacksmith who wore his frock-coat, had Gervaise on his left arm and Virginie +on his right; he was doing the two-handled basket as he said; and it seemed to +them such a funny thing to say that they stopped, unable to move their legs for +laughing. They looked at themselves in the pork-butcher’s glass and +laughed more than ever. Beside Goujet, all in black, the two women looked like +two speckled hens—the dressmaker in her muslin costume, sprinkled with +pink flowers, the laundress in her white cambric dress with blue spots, her +wrists bare, and wearing round her neck a little grey silk scarf tied in a bow. +People turned round to see them pass, looking so fresh and lively, dressed in +their Sunday best on a week day and jostling the crowd which hung about the Rue +des Poissonniers, on that warm June evening. But it was not a question of +amusing themselves. They went straight to the door of each wineshop, looked in +and sought amongst the people standing before the counter. Had that animal +Coupeau gone to the Arc de Triomphe to get his dram? They had already done the +upper part of the street, looking in at all the likely places; at the +“Little Civet,” renowned for its preserved plums; at old mother +Baquet’s, who sold Orleans wine at eight sous; at the +“Butterfly,” the coachmen’s house of call, gentlemen who were +not easy to please. But no Coupeau. Then as they were going down towards the +Boulevard, Gervaise uttered a faint cry on passing the eating-house at the +corner kept by Francois. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter?” asked Goujet. +</p> + +<p> +The laundress no longer laughed. She was very pale, and laboring under so great +an emotion that she had almost fallen. Virginie understood it all as she caught +a sight of Lantier seated at one of Francois’s tables quietly dining. The +two women dragged the blacksmith along. +</p> + +<p> +“My ankle twisted,” said Gervaise as soon as she was able to speak. +</p> + +<p> +At length they discovered Coupeau and Poisson at the bottom of the street +inside Pere Colombe’s l’Assommoir. They were standing up in the +midst of a number of men; Coupeau, in a grey blouse, was shouting with furious +gestures and banging his fists down on the counter. Poisson, not on duty that +day and buttoned up in an old brown coat, was listening to him in a dull sort +of way and without uttering a word, bristling his carroty moustaches and beard +the while. Goujet left the women on the edge of the pavement, and went and laid +his hand on the zinc-worker’s shoulder. But when the latter caught sight +of Gervaise and Virginie outside he grew angry. Why was he badgered with such +females as those? Petticoats had taken to tracking him about now! Well! He +declined to stir, they could go and eat their beastly dinner all by themselves. +To quiet him Goujet was obliged to accept a drop of something; and even then +Coupeau took a fiendish delight in dawdling a good five minutes at the counter. +When he at length came out he said to his wife: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like this. It’s my business where I go. Do you +understand?” +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer. She was all in a tremble. She must have said something +about Lantier to Virginie, for the latter pushed her husband and Goujet ahead, +telling them to walk in front. The two women got on each side of Coupeau to +keep him occupied and prevent him seeing Lantier. He wasn’t really drunk, +being more intoxicated from shouting than from drinking. Since they seemed to +want to stay on the left side, to tease them, he crossed over to the other side +of the street. Worried, they ran after him and tried to block his view of the +door of Francois’s. But Coupeau must have known that Lantier was there. +Gervaise almost went out of her senses on hearing him grunt: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my duck, there’s a young fellow of our acquaintance inside +there! You mustn’t take me for a ninny. Don’t let me catch you +gallivanting about again with your side glances!” +</p> + +<p> +And he made use of some very coarse expressions. It was not him that she had +come to look for with her bare elbows and her mealy mouth; it was her old beau. +Then he was suddenly seized with a mad rage against Lantier. Ah! the brigand! +Ah! the filthy hound! One or the other of them would have to be left on the +pavement, emptied of his guts like a rabbit. Lantier, however, did not appear +to notice what was going on and continued slowly eating some veal and sorrel. A +crowd began to form. Virginie led Coupeau away and he calmed down at once as +soon as he had turned the corner of the street. All the same they returned to +the shop far less lively than when they left it. +</p> + +<p> +The guests were standing round the table with very long faces. The zinc-worker +shook hands with them, showing himself off before the ladies. Gervaise, feeling +rather depressed, spoke in a low voice as she directed them to their places. +But she suddenly noticed that, as Madame Goujet had not come, a seat would +remain empty—the one next to Madame Lorilleux. +</p> + +<p> +“We are thirteen!” said she, deeply affected, seeing in that a +fresh omen of the misfortune with which she had felt herself threatened for +some time past. +</p> + +<p> +The ladies already seated rose up looking anxious and annoyed. Madame Putois +offered to retire because according to her it was not a matter to laugh about; +besides she would not touch a thing, the food would do her no good. As to +Boche, he chuckled. He would sooner be thirteen than fourteen; the portions +would be larger, that was all. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait!” resumed Gervaise. “I can manage it.” +</p> + +<p> +And going out on to the pavement she called Pere Bru who was just then crossing +the roadway. The old workman entered, stooping and stiff and his face without +expression. +</p> + +<p> +“Seat yourself there, my good fellow,” said the laundress. +“You won’t mind eating with us, will you?” +</p> + +<p> +He simply nodded his head. He was willing; he did not mind. +</p> + +<p> +“As well him as another,” continued she, lowering her voice. +“He doesn’t often eat his fill. He will at least enjoy himself once +more. We shall feel no remorse in stuffing ourselves now.” +</p> + +<p> +This touched Goujet so deeply that his eyes filled with tears. The others were +also moved by compassion and said that it would bring them all good luck. +However, Madame Lorilleux seemed unhappy at having the old man next to her. She +cast glances of disgust at his work-roughened hands and his faded, patched +smock, and drew away from him. +</p> + +<p> +Pere Bru sat with his head bowed, waiting. He was bothered by the napkin that +was on the plate before him. Finally he lifted it off and placed it gently on +the edge of the table, not thinking to spread it over his knees. +</p> + +<p> +Now at last Gervaise served the vermicelli soup; the guests were taking up +their spoons when Virginie remarked that Coupeau had disappeared. He had +perhaps returned to Pere Colombe’s. This time the company got angry. So +much the worse! One would not run after him; he could stay in the street if he +was not hungry; and as the spoons touched the bottom of the plates, Coupeau +reappeared with two pots of flowers, one under each arm, a stock and a balsam. +They all clapped their hands. He gallantly placed the pots, one on the right, +the other on the left of Gervaise’s glass; then bending over and kissing +her, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“I had forgotten you, my lamb. But in spite of that, we love each other +all the same, especially on such a day as this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Coupeau’s very nice this evening,” murmured +Clemence in Boche’s ear. “He’s just got what he required, +sufficient to make him amiable.” +</p> + +<p> +The good behavior of the master of the house restored the gaiety of the +proceedings, which at one moment had been compromised. Gervaise, once more at +her ease, was all smiles again. The guests finished their soup. Then the +bottles circulated and they drank their first glass of wine, just a drop pure, +to wash down the vermicelli. One could hear the children quarrelling in the +next room. There were Etienne, Pauline, Nana and little Victor Fauconnier. It +had been decided to lay a table for the four of them, and they had been told to +be very good. That squint-eyed Augustine who had to look after the stoves was +to eat off her knees. +</p> + +<p> +“Mamma! Mamma!” suddenly screamed Nana, “Augustine is dipping +her bread in the Dutch oven!” +</p> + +<p> +The laundress hastened there and caught the squint-eyed one in the act of +burning her throat in her attempts to swallow without loss of time a slice of +bread soaked in boiling goose fat. She boxed her ears when the young monkey +called out that it was not true. When, after the boiled beef, the stewed veal +appeared, served in a salad-bowl, as they did not have a dish large enough, the +party greeted it with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s becoming serious,” declared Poisson, who seldom spoke. +</p> + +<p> +It was half-past seven. They had closed the shop door, so as not to be spied +upon by the whole neighborhood; the little clockmaker opposite especially was +opening his eyes to their full size and seemed to take the pieces from their +mouths with such a gluttonous look that it almost prevented them from eating. +The curtains hung before the windows admitted a great white uniform light which +bathed the entire table with its symmetrical arrangement of knives and forks +and its pots of flowers enveloped in tall collars of white paper; and this pale +fading light, this slowly approaching dusk, gave to the party somewhat of an +air of distinction. Virginie looked round the closed apartment hung with muslin +and with a happy criticism declared it to be very cozy. Whenever a cart passed +in the street the glasses jingled together on the table cloth and the ladies +were obliged to shout out as loud as the men. But there was not much +conversation; they all behaved very respectably and were very attentive to each +other. Coupeau alone wore a blouse, because as he said one need not stand on +ceremony with friends and besides which the blouse was the workman’s garb +of honor. The ladies, laced up in their bodices, wore their hair in plaits +greasy with pomatum in which the daylight was reflected; whilst the gentlemen, +sitting at a distance from the table, swelled out their chests and kept their +elbows wide apart for fear of staining their frock coats. +</p> + +<p> +Ah! thunder! What a hole they were making in the stewed veal! If they spoke +little, they were chewing in earnest. The salad-bowl was becoming emptier and +emptier with a spoon stuck in the midst of the thick sauce—a good yellow +sauce which quivered like a jelly. They fished pieces of veal out of it and +seemed as though they would never come to the end; the salad-bowl journeyed +from hand to hand and faces bent over it as forks picked out the mushrooms. The +long loaves standing against the wall behind the guests appeared to melt away. +Between the mouthfuls one could hear the sound of glasses being replaced on the +table. The sauce was a trifle too salty. It required four bottles of wine to +drown that blessed stewed veal, which went down like cream, but which +afterwards lit up a regular conflagration in one’s stomach. And before +one had time to take a breath, the pig’s back, in the middle of a deep +dish surrounded by big round potatoes, arrived in the midst of a cloud of +smoke. There was one general cry. By Jove! It was just the thing! Everyone +liked it. They would do it justice; and they followed the dish with a side +glance as they wiped their knives on their bread so as to be in readiness. Then +as soon as they were helped they nudged one another and spoke with their mouths +full. It was just like butter! Something sweet and solid which one could feel +run through one’s guts right down into one’s boots. The potatoes +were like sugar. It was not a bit salty; only, just on account of the potatoes, +it required a wetting every few minutes. Four more bottles were placed on the +table. The plates were wiped so clean that they also served for the green peas +and bacon. Oh! vegetables were of no consequence. They playfully gulped them +down in spoonfuls. The best part of the dish was the small pieces of bacon just +nicely grilled and smelling like horse’s hoof. Two bottles were +sufficient for them. +</p> + +<p> +“Mamma! Mamma!” called out Nana suddenly, “Augustine’s +putting her fingers in my plate!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t bother me! give her a slap!” replied Gervaise, in the +act of stuffing herself with green peas. +</p> + +<p> +At the children’s table in the back-room, Nana was playing the role of +lady of the house, sitting next to Victor and putting her brother Etienne +beside Pauline so they could play house, pretending they were two married +couples. Nana had served her guests very politely at first, but now she had +given way to her passion for grilled bacon, trying to keep every piece for +herself. While Augustine was prowling around the children’s table, she +would grab the bits of bacon under the pretext of dividing them amongst the +children. Nana was so furious that she bit Augustine on the wrist. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you know,” murmured Augustine, “I’ll tell your +mother that after the veal you asked Victor to kiss you.” +</p> + +<p> +But all became quiet again as Gervaise and mother Coupeau came in to get the +goose. The guests at the big table were leaning back in their chairs taking a +breather. The men had unbuttoned their waistcoats, the ladies were wiping their +faces with their napkins. The repast was, so to say, interrupted; only one or +two persons, unable to keep their jaws still, continued to swallow large +mouthfuls of bread, without even knowing that they were doing so. The others +were waiting and allowing their food to settle while waiting for the main +course. Night was slowly coming on; a dirty ashy grey light was gathering +behind the curtains. When Augustine brought two lamps and placed one at each +end of the table, the general disorder became apparent in the bright +glare—the greasy forks and plates, the table cloth stained with wine and +covered with crumbs. A strong stifling odor pervaded the room. Certain warm +fumes, however, attracted all the noses in the direction of the kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +“Can I help you?” cried Virginie. +</p> + +<p> +She left her chair and passed into the inner room. All the women followed one +by one. They surrounded the Dutch oven, and watched with profound interest as +Gervaise and mother Coupeau tried to pull the bird out. Then a clamor arose, in +the midst of which one could distinguish the shrill voices and the joyful leaps +of the children. And there was a triumphal entry. Gervaise carried the goose, +her arms stiff, and her perspiring face expanded in one broad silent laugh; the +women walked behind her, laughing in the same way; whilst Nana, right at the +end, raised herself up to see, her eyes open to their full extent. When the +enormous golden goose, streaming with gravy, was on the table, they did not +attack it at once. It was a wonder, a respectful wonderment, which for a moment +left everyone speechless. They drew one another’s attention to it with +winks and nods of the head. Golly! What a bird! +</p> + +<p> +“That one didn’t get fat by licking the walls, I’ll +bet!” said Boche. +</p> + +<p> +Then they entered into details respecting the bird. Gervaise gave the facts. It +was the best she could get at the poulterer’s in the Faubourg +Poissonniers; it weighed twelve and a half pounds on the scales at the +charcoal-dealer’s; they had burnt nearly half a bushel of charcoal in +cooking it, and it had given three bowls full of drippings. +</p> + +<p> +Virginie interrupted her to boast of having seen it before it was cooked. +“You could have eaten it just as it was,” she said, “its skin +was so fine, like the skin of a blonde.” All the men laughed at this, +smacking their lips. Lorilleux and Madame Lorilleux sniffed disdainfully, +almost choking with rage to see such a goose on Clump-clump’s table. +</p> + +<p> +“Well! We can’t eat it whole,” the laundress observed. +“Who’ll cut it up? No, no, not me! It’s too big; I’m +afraid of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau offered his services. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> it was very simple. You caught +hold of the limbs, and pulled them off; the pieces were good all the same. But +the others protested; they forcibly took possession of the large kitchen knife +which the zinc-worker already held in his hand, saying that whenever he carved +he made a regular graveyard of the platter. Finally, Madame Lerat suggested in +a friendly tone: +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, it should be Monsieur Poisson; yes, Monsieur Poisson.” +</p> + +<p> +But, as the others did not appear to understand, she added in a more flattering +manner still: +</p> + +<p> +“Why, yes, of course, it should be Monsieur Poisson, who’s +accustomed to the use of arms.” +</p> + +<p> +And she passed the kitchen knife to the policeman. All round the table they +laughed with pleasure and approval. Poisson bowed his head with military +stiffness, and moved the goose before him. When he thrust the knife into the +goose, which cracked, Lorilleux was seized with an outburst of patriotism. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! if it was a Cossack!” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you ever fought with Cossacks, Monsieur Poisson?” asked +Madame Boche. +</p> + +<p> +“No, but I have with Bedouins,” replied the policeman, who was +cutting off a wing. “There are no more Cossacks.” +</p> + +<p> +A great silence ensued. Necks were stretched out as every eye followed the +knife. Poisson was preparing a surprise. Suddenly he gave a last cut; the +hind-quarter of the bird came off and stood up on end, rump in the air, making +a bishop’s mitre. Then admiration burst forth. None were so agreeable in +company as retired soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +The policeman allowed several minutes for the company to admire the +bishop’s mitre and then finished cutting the slices and arranging them on +the platter. The carving of the goose was now complete. +</p> + +<p> +When the ladies complained that they were getting rather warm, Coupeau opened +the door to the street and the gaiety continued against the background of cabs +rattling down the street and pedestrians bustling along the pavement. The goose +was attacked furiously by the rested jaws. Boche remarked that just having to +wait and watch the goose being carved had been enough to make the veal and pork +slide down to his ankles. +</p> + +<p> +Then ensued a famous tuck-in; that is to say, not one of the party recollected +ever having before run the risk of such a stomach-ache. Gervaise, looking +enormous, her elbows on the table, ate great pieces of breast, without uttering +a word, for fear of losing a mouthful, and merely felt slightly ashamed and +annoyed at exhibiting herself thus, as gluttonous as a cat before Goujet. +Goujet, however, was too busy stuffing himself to notice that she was all red +with eating. Besides, in spite of her greediness, she remained so nice and +good! She did not speak, but she troubled herself every minute to look after +Pere Bru, and place some dainty bit on his plate. It was even touching to see +this glutton take a piece of wing almost from her mouth to give it to the old +fellow, who did not appear to be very particular, and who swallowed everything +with bowed head, almost besotted from having gobbled so much after he had +forgotten the taste of bread. The Lorilleuxs expended their rage on the roast +goose; they ate enough to last them three days; they would have stowed away the +dish, the table, the very shop, if they could have ruined Clump-clump by doing +so. All the ladies had wanted a piece of the breast, traditionally the +ladies’ portion. Madame Lerat, Madame Boche, Madame Putois, were all +picking bones; whilst mother Coupeau, who adored the neck, was tearing off the +flesh with her two last teeth. Virginie liked the skin when it was nicely +browned, and the other guests gallantly passed their skin to her; so much so, +that Poisson looked at his wife severely, and bade her stop, because she had +had enough as it was. Once already, she had been a fortnight in bed, with her +stomach swollen out, through having eaten too much roast goose. But Coupeau got +angry and helped Virginie to the upper part of a leg, saying that, by +Jove’s thunder! if she did not pick it, she wasn’t a proper woman. +Had roast goose ever done harm to anybody? On the contrary, it cured all +complaints of the spleen. One could eat it without bread, like dessert. He +could go on swallowing it all night without being the least bit inconvenienced; +and, just to show off, he stuffed a whole drum-stick into his mouth. Meanwhile, +Clemence had got to the end of the rump, and was sucking it with her lips, +whilst she wriggled with laughter on her chair because Boche was whispering all +sorts of smutty things to her. Ah, by Jove! Yes, there was a dinner! When +one’s at it, one’s at it, you know; and if one only has the chance +now and then, one would be precious stupid not to stuff oneself up to +one’s ears. Really, one could see their sides puff out by degrees. They +were cracking in their skins, the blessed gormandizers! With their mouths open, +their chins besmeared with grease, they had such bloated red faces that one +would have said they were bursting with prosperity. +</p> + +<p> +As for the wine, well, that was flowing as freely around the table as water +flows in the Seine. It was like a brook overflowing after a rainstorm when the +soil is parched. Coupeau raised the bottle high when pouring to see the red jet +foam in the glass. Whenever he emptied a bottle, he would turn it upside down +and shake it. One more dead solder! In a corner of the laundry the pile of dead +soldiers grew larger and larger, a veritable cemetery of bottles onto which +other debris from the table was tossed. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau became indignant when Madame Putois asked for water. He took all the +water pitchers from the table. Do respectable citizens ever drink water? Did +she want to grow frogs in her stomach? +</p> + +<p> +Many glasses were emptied at one gulp. You could hear the liquid gurgling its +way down the throats like rainwater in a drainpipe after a storm. One might say +it was raining wine. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> the juice of the grape was a remarkable +invention. Surely the workingman couldn’t get along without his wine. +Papa Noah must have planted his grapevine for the benefit of zinc-workers, +tailors and blacksmiths. It brightened you up and refreshed you after a hard +day’s work. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau was in a high mood. He proclaimed that all the ladies present were very +cute, and jingled the three sous in his pocket as if they had been five-franc +pieces. +</p> + +<p> +Even Goujet, who was ordinarily very sober, had taken plenty of wine. +Boche’s eyes were narrowing, those of Lorilleux were paling, and Poisson +was developing expressions of stern severity on his soldierly face. All the men +were as drunk as lords and the ladies had reached a certain point also, feeling +so warm that they had to loosen their clothes. Only Clemence carried this a bit +too far. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Gervaise recollected the six sealed bottles of wine. She had forgotten +to put them on the table with the goose; she fetched them, and all the glasses +were filled. Then Poisson rose, and holding his glass in the air, said: +</p> + +<p> +“I drink to the health of the missus.” +</p> + +<p> +All of them stood up, making a great noise with their chairs as they moved. +Holding out their arms, they clinked glasses in the midst of an immense uproar. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s to this day fifty years hence!” cried Virginie. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” replied Gervaise, deeply moved and smiling; “I +shall be too old. Ah! a day comes when one’s glad to go.” +</p> + +<p> +Through the door, which was wide open, the neighborhood was looking on and +taking part in the festivities. Passers-by stopped in the broad ray of light +which shone over the pavement, and laughed heartily at seeing all these people +stuffing away so jovially. +</p> + +<p> +The aroma from the roasted goose brought joy to the whole street. The clerks on +the sidewalk opposite thought they could almost taste the bird. Others came out +frequently to stand in front of their shops, sniffing the air and licking their +lips. The little jeweler was unable to work, dizzy from having counted so many +bottles. He seemed to have lost his head among his merry little cuckoo clocks. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, the neighbors were devoured with envy, as Coupeau said. But why should +there be any secret made about the matter? The party, now fairly launched, was +no longer ashamed of being seen at table; on the contrary, it felt flattered +and excited at seeing the crowd gathered there, gaping with gluttony; it would +have liked to have knocked out the shop-front and dragged the table into the +road-way, and there to have enjoyed the dessert under the very nose of the +public, and amidst the commotion of the thoroughfare. Nothing disgusting was to +be seen in them, was there? Then there was no need to shut themselves in like +selfish people. Coupeau, noticing the little clockmaker looked very thirsty, +held up a bottle; and as the other nodded his head, he carried him the bottle +and a glass. A fraternity was established in the street. They drank to anyone +who passed. They called in any chaps who looked the right sort. The feast +spread, extending from one to another, to the degree that the entire +neighborhood of the Goutte-d’Or sniffed the grub, and held its stomach, +amidst a rumpus worthy of the devil and all his demons. For some minutes, +Madame Vigouroux, the charcoal-dealer, had been passing to and fro before the +door. +</p> + +<p> +“Hi! Madame Vigouroux! Madame Vigouroux!” yelled the party. +</p> + +<p> +She entered with a broad grin on her face, which was washed for once, and so +fat that the body of her dress was bursting. The men liked pinching her, +because they might pinch her all over without ever encountering a bone. Boche +made room for her beside him and reached slyly under the table to grab her +knee. But she, being accustomed to that sort of thing, quietly tossed off a +glass of wine, and related that all the neighbors were at their windows, and +that some of the people of the house were beginning to get angry. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s our business,” said Madame Boche. +“We’re the concierges, aren’t we? Well, we’re +answerable for good order. Let them come and complain to us, we’ll +receive them in a way they don’t expect.” +</p> + +<p> +In the back-room there had just been a furious fight between Nana and +Augustine, on account of the Dutch oven, which both wanted to scrape out. For a +quarter of an hour, the Dutch oven had rebounded over the tile floor with the +noise of an old saucepan. Nana was now nursing little Victor, who had a +goose-bone in his throat. She pushed her fingers under his chin, and made him +swallow big lumps of sugar by way of a remedy. That did not prevent her keeping +an eye on the big table. At every minute she came and asked for wine, bread, or +meat, for Etienne and Pauline, she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Here! Burst!” her mother would say to her. “Perhaps +you’ll leave us in peace now!” +</p> + +<p> +The children were scarcely able to swallow any longer, but they continued to +eat all the same, banging their forks down on the table to the tune of a +canticle, in order to excite themselves. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of the noise, however, a conversation was going on between Pere +Bru and mother Coupeau. The old fellow, who was ghastly pale in spite of the +wine and the food, was talking of his sons who had died in the Crimea. Ah! if +the lads had only lived, he would have had bread to eat every day. But mother +Coupeau, speaking thickly, leant towards him and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! one has many worries with children! For instance, I appear to be +happy here, don’t I? Well! I cry more often than you think. No, +don’t wish you still had your children.” +</p> + +<p> +Pere Bru shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t get work anywhere,” murmured he. “I’m +too old. When I enter a workshop the young fellows joke, and ask me if I +polished Henri IV.’s boots. To-day it’s all over; they won’t +have me anywhere. Last year I could still earn thirty sous a day painting a +bridge. I had to lie on my back with the river flowing under me. I’ve had +a bad cough ever since then. Now, I’m finished.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at his poor stiff hands and added: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s easy to understand, I’m no longer good for anything. +They’re right; were I in their place I should do the same. You see, the +misfortune is that I’m not dead. Yes, it’s my fault. One should lie +down and croak when one’s no longer able to work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really,” said Lorilleux, who was listening, “I don’t +understand why the Government doesn’t come to the aid of the invalids of +labor. I was reading that in a newspaper the other day.” +</p> + +<p> +But Poisson thought it his duty to defend the Government. +</p> + +<p> +“Workmen are not soldiers,” declared he. “The Invalides is +for soldiers. You must not ask for what is impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +Dessert was now served. In the centre of the table was a Savoy cake in the form +of a temple, with a dome fluted with melon slices; and this dome was surmounted +by an artificial rose, close to which was a silver paper butterfly, fluttering +at the end of a wire. Two drops of gum in the centre of the flower imitated +dew. Then, to the left, a piece of cream cheese floated in a deep dish; whilst +in another dish to the right, were piled up some large crushed strawberries, +with the juice running from them. However, there was still some salad left, +some large coss lettuce leaves soaked with oil. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Madame Boche,” said Gervaise, coaxingly, “a little +more salad. I know how fond you are of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, thank you! I’ve already had as much as I can +manage,” replied the concierge. +</p> + +<p> +The laundress turning towards Virginie, the latter put her finger in her mouth, +as though to touch the food she had taken. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, I’m full,” murmured she. “There’s no +room left. I couldn’t swallow a mouthful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! but if you tried a little,” resumed Gervaise with a smile. +“One can always find a tiny corner empty. Once doesn’t need to be +hungry to be able to eat salad. You’re surely not going to let this be +wasted?” +</p> + +<p> +“You can eat it to-morrow,” said Madame Lerat; “it’s +nicer when its wilted.” +</p> + +<p> +The ladies sighed as they looked regretfully at the salad-bowl. Clemence +related that she had one day eaten three bunches of watercresses at her lunch. +Madame Putois could do more than that, she would take a coss lettuce and munch +it up with some salt just as it was without separating the leaves. They could +all have lived on salad, would have treated themselves to tubfuls. And, this +conversation aiding, the ladies cleaned out the salad-bowl. +</p> + +<p> +“I could go on all fours in a meadow,” observed the concierge with +her mouth full. +</p> + +<p> +Then they chuckled together as they eyed the dessert. Dessert did not count. It +came rather late but that did not matter; they would nurse it all the same. +When you’re that stuffed, you can’t let yourself be stopped by +strawberries and cake. There was no hurry. They had the entire night if they +wished. So they piled their plates with strawberries and cream cheese. +Meanwhile the men lit their pipes. They were drinking the ordinary wine while +they smoked since the special wine had been finished. Now they insisted that +Gervaise cut the Savoy cake. Poisson got up and took the rose from the cake and +presented it in his most gallant manner to the hostess amidst applause from the +other guests. She pinned it over her left breast, near the heart. The silver +butterfly fluttered with her every movement. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, look,” exclaimed Lorilleux, who had just made a discovery, +“it’s your work-table that we’re eating off! Ah, well! I +daresay it’s never seen so much work before!” +</p> + +<p> +This malicious joke had a great success. Witty allusions came from all sides. +Clemence could not swallow a spoonful of strawberries without saying that it +was another shirt ironed; Madame Lerat pretended that the cream cheese smelt of +starch; whilst Madame Lorilleux said between her teeth that it was capital fun +to gobble up the money so quickly on the very boards on which one had had so +much trouble to earn it. There was quite a tempest of shouts and laughter. +</p> + +<p> +But suddenly a loud voice called for silence. It was Boche who, standing up in +an affected and vulgar way, was commencing to sing “The Volcano of Love, +or the Seductive Trooper.” +</p> + +<p> +A thunder of applause greeted the first verse. Yes, yes, they would sing songs! +Everyone in turn. It was more amusing than anything else. And they all put +their elbows on the table or leant back in their chairs, nodding their heads at +the best parts and sipping their wine when they came to the choruses. That +rogue Boche had a special gift for comic songs. He would almost make the water +pitchers laugh when he imitated the raw recruit with his fingers apart and his +hat on the back of his head. Directly after “The Volcano of Love,” +he burst out into “The Baroness de Follebiche,” one of his greatest +successes. When he reached the third verse he turned towards Clemence and +almost murmured it in a slow and voluptuous tone of voice: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The baroness had people there,<br/> +Her sisters four, oh! rare surprise;<br/> +And three were dark, and one was fair;<br/> +Between them, eight bewitching eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the whole party, carried away, joined in the chorus. The men beat time +with their heels, whilst the ladies did the same with their knives against +their glasses. All of them singing at the top of their voices: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“By Jingo! who on earth will pay<br/> +A drink to the pa—to the pa—pa—?<br/> +By Jingo! who on earth will pay<br/> +A drink to the pa—to the pa—tro—o—l?” +</p> + +<p> +The panes of glass of the shop-front resounded, the singers’ great volume +of breath agitated the muslin curtains. Whilst all this was going on, Virginie +had already twice disappeared and each time, on returning, had leant towards +Gervaise’s ear to whisper a piece of information. When she returned the +third time, in the midst of the uproar, she said to her: +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, he’s still at Francois’s; he’s pretending to +read the newspaper. He’s certainly meditating some evil design.” +</p> + +<p> +She was speaking of Lantier. It was him that she had been watching. At each +fresh report Gervaise became more and more grave. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he drunk?” asked she of Virginie. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied the tall brunette. “He looks as though he had +merely had what he required. It’s that especially which makes me anxious. +Why does he remain there if he’s had all he wanted? <i>Mon Dieu!</i> I +hope nothing is going to happen!” +</p> + +<p> +The laundress, greatly upset, begged her to leave off. A profound silence +suddenly succeeded the clamor. Madame Putois had just risen and was about to +sing “The Boarding of the Pirate.” The guests, silent and +thoughtful, watched her; even Poisson had laid his pipe down on the edge of the +table the better to listen to her. She stood up to the full height of her +little figure, with a fierce expression about her, though her face looked quite +pale beneath her black cap; she thrust out her left fist with a satisfied pride +as she thundered in a voice bigger than herself: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“If the pirate audacious<br/> +Should o’er the waves chase us,<br/> +The buccaneer slaughter,<br/> +Accord him no quarter.<br/> +To the guns every man,<br/> +And with rum fill each can!<br/> +While these pests of the seas<br/> +Dangle from the cross-trees.” +</p> + +<p> +That was something serious. By Jove! it gave one a fine idea of the real thing. +Poisson, who had been on board ship nodded his head in approval of the +description. One could see too that that song was in accordance with Madame +Putois’s own feeling. Coupeau then told how Madame Putois, one evening on +Rue Poulet, had slapped the face of four men who sought to attack her virtue. +</p> + +<p> +With the assistance of mother Coupeau, Gervaise was now serving the coffee, +though some of the guests had not yet finished their Savoy cake. They would not +let her sit down again, but shouted that it was her turn. With a pale face, and +looking very ill at ease, she tried to excuse herself; she seemed so queer that +someone inquired whether the goose had disagreed with her. She finally gave +them “Oh! let me slumber!” in a sweet and feeble voice. When she +reached the chorus with its wish for a sleep filled with beautiful dreams, her +eyelids partly closed and her rapt gaze lost itself in the darkness of the +street. +</p> + +<p> +Poisson stood next and with an abrupt bow to the ladies, sang a drinking song: +“The Wines of France.” But his voice wasn’t very musical and +only the final verse, a patriotic one mentioning the tricolor flag, was a +success. Then he raised his glass high, juggled it a moment, and poured the +contents into his open mouth. +</p> + +<p> +Then came a string of ballads; Madame Boche’s barcarolle was all about +Venice and the gondoliers; Madame Lorilleux sang of Seville and the Andalusians +in her bolero; whilst Lorilleux went so far as to allude to the perfumes of +Arabia, in reference to the loves of Fatima the dancer. +</p> + +<p> +Golden horizons were opening up all around the heavily laden table. The men +were smoking their pipes and the women unconsciously smiling with pleasure. All +were dreaming they were far away. +</p> + +<p> +Clemence began to sing softly “Let’s Make a Nest” with a +tremolo in her voice which pleased them greatly for it made them think of the +open country, of songbirds, of dancing beneath an arbor, and of flowers. In +short, it made them think of the Bois de Vincennes when they went there for a +picnic. +</p> + +<p> +But Virginie revived the joking with “My Little Drop of Brandy.” +She imitated a camp follower, with one hand on her hip, the elbow arched to +indicate the little barrel; and with the other hand she poured out the brandy +into space by turning her fist round. She did it so well that the party then +begged mother Coupeau to sing “The Mouse.” The old woman refused, +vowing that she did not know that naughty song. Yet she started off with the +remnants of her broken voice; and her wrinkled face with its lively little eyes +underlined the allusions, the terrors of Mademoiselle Lise drawing her skirts +around her at the sight of a mouse. All the table laughed; the women could not +keep their countenances, and continued casting bright glances at their +neighbors; it was not indecent after all, there were no coarse words in it. All +during the song Boche was playing mouse up and down the legs of the lady +coal-dealer. Things might have gotten a bit out of line if Goujet, in response +to a glance from Gervaise, had not brought back the respectful silence with +“The Farewell of Abdul-Kader,” which he sang out loudly in his bass +voice. The song rang out from his golden beard as if from a brass trumpet. All +the hearts skipped a beat when he cried, “Ah, my noble comrade!” +referring to the warrior’s black mare. They burst into applause even +before the end. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Pere Bru, it’s your turn!” said mother Coupeau. +“Sing your song. The old ones are the best any day!” +</p> + +<p> +And everybody turned towards the old man, pressing him and encouraging him. He, +in a state of torpor, with his immovable mask of tanned skin, looked at them +without appearing to understand. They asked him if he knew the “Five +Vowels.” He held down his head; he could not recollect it; all the songs +of the good old days were mixed up in his head. As they made up their minds to +leave him alone, he seemed to remember, and began to stutter in a cavernous +voice: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Trou la la, trou la la,<br/> +Trou la, trou la, trou la la!” +</p> + +<p> +His face assumed an animated expression, this chorus seemed to awake some +far-off gaieties within him, enjoyed by himself alone, as he listened with a +childish delight to his voice which became more and more hollow. +</p> + +<p> +“Say there, my dear,” Virginie came and whispered in +Gervaise’s ear, “I’ve just been there again, you know. It +worried me. Well! Lantier has disappeared from Francois’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t meet him outside?” asked the laundress. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I walked quickly, not as if I was looking for him.” +</p> + +<p> +But Virginie raised her eyes, interrupted herself and heaved a smothered sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! <i>Mon Dieu!</i> He’s there, on the pavement opposite; +he’s looking this way.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, quite beside herself, ventured to glance in the direction indicated. +Some persons had collected in the street to hear the party sing. And Lantier +was indeed there in the front row, listening and coolly looking on. It was rare +cheek, everything considered. Gervaise felt a chill ascend from her legs to her +heart, and she no longer dared to move, whilst old Bru continued: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Trou la la, trou la la,<br/> +Trou la, trou la, trou la la!” +</p> + +<p> +“Very good. Thank you, my ancient one, that’s enough!” said +Coupeau. “Do you know the whole of it? You shall sing it for us another +day when we need something sad.” +</p> + +<p> +This raised a few laughs. The old fellow stopped short, glanced round the table +with his pale eyes and resumed his look of a meditative animal. Coupeau called +for more wine as the coffee was finished. Clemence was eating strawberries +again. With the pause in singing, they began to talk about a woman who had been +found hanging that morning in the building next door. It was Madame +Lerat’s turn, but she required to prepare herself. She dipped the corner +of her napkin into a glass of water and applied it to her temples because she +was too hot. Then, she asked for a thimbleful of brandy, drank it, and slowly +wiped her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“The ‘Child of God,’ shall it be?” she murmured, +“the ‘Child of God.’” +</p> + +<p> +And, tall and masculine-looking, with her bony nose and her shoulders as square +as a grenadier’s she began: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The lost child left by its mother alone<br/> +Is sure of a home in Heaven above,<br/> +God sees and protects it on earth from His throne,<br/> +The child that is lost is the child of God’s love.” +</p> + +<p> +Her voice trembled at certain words, and dwelt on them in liquid notes; she +looked out of the corner of her eyes to heaven, whilst her right hand swung +before her chest or pressed against her heart with an impressive gesture. Then +Gervaise, tortured by Lantier’s presence, could not restrain her tears; +it seemed to her that the song was relating her own suffering, that she was the +lost child, abandoned by its mother, and whom God was going to take under his +protection. Clemence was now very drunk and she burst into loud sobbing and +placed her head down onto the table in an effort to smother her gasps. There +was a hush vibrant with emotion. +</p> + +<p> +The ladies had pulled out their handkerchiefs, and were drying their eyes, with +their heads erect from pride. The men had bowed their heads and were staring +straight before them, blinking back their tears. Poisson bit off the end of his +pipe twice while gulping and gasping. Boche, with two large tears trickling +down his face, wasn’t even bothering to squeeze the coal-dealer’s +knee any longer. All these drunk revelers were as soft-hearted as lambs. +Wasn’t the wine almost coming out of their eyes? When the refrain began +again, they all let themselves go, blubbering into their plates. +</p> + +<p> +But Gervaise and Virginie could not, in spite of themselves, take their eyes +off the pavement opposite. Madame Boche, in her turn, caught sight of Lantier +and uttered a faint cry without ceasing to besmear her face with her tears. +Then all three had very anxious faces as they exchanged involuntary signs. +<i>Mon Dieu!</i> if Coupeau were to turn round, if Coupeau caught sight of the +other! What a butchery! What carnage! And they went on to such an extent that +the zinc-worker asked them: +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever are you looking at?” +</p> + +<p> +He leant forward and recognized Lantier. +</p> + +<p> +“Damnation! It’s too much,” muttered he. “Ah! the dirty +scoundrel—ah! the dirty scoundrel. No, it’s too much, it must come +to an end.” +</p> + +<p> +And as he rose from his seat muttering most atrocious threats, Gervaise, in a +low voice, implored him to keep quiet. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen to me, I implore you. Leave the knife alone. Remain where you +are, don’t do anything dreadful.” +</p> + +<p> +Virginie had to take the knife which he had picked up off the table from him. +But she could not prevent him leaving the shop and going up to Lantier. +</p> + +<p> +Those around the table saw nothing of this, so involved were they in weeping +over the song as Madame Lerat sang the last verse. It sounded like a moaning +wail of the wind and Madame Putois was so moved that she spilled her wine over +the table. Gervaise remained frozen with fright, one hand tight against her +lips to stifle her sobs. She expected at any moment to see one of the two men +fall unconscious in the street. +</p> + +<p> +As Coupeau rushed toward Lantier, he was so astonished by the fresh air that he +staggered, and Lantier, with his hands in his pockets, merely took a step to +the side. Now the two men were almost shouting at each other, Coupeau calling +the other a lousy pig and threatening to make sausage of his guts. They were +shouting loudly and angrily and waving their arms violently. Gervaise felt +faint and as it continued for a while, she closed her eyes. Suddenly, she +didn’t hear any shouting and opened her eyes. The two men were chatting +amiably together. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lerat’s voice rose higher and higher, warbling another verse. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise exchanged a glance with Madame Boche and Virginie. Was it going to end +amicably then? Coupeau and Lantier continued to converse on the edge of the +pavement. They were still abusing each other, but in a friendly way. As people +were staring at them, they ended by strolling leisurely side by side past the +houses, turning round again every ten yards or so. A very animated conversation +was now taking place. Suddenly Coupeau appeared to become angry again, whilst +the other was refusing something and required to be pressed. And it was the +zinc-worker who pushed Lantier along and who forced him to cross the street and +enter the shop. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you, you’re quite welcome!” shouted he. +“You’ll take a glass of wine. Men are men, you know. We ought to +understand each other.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lerat was finishing the last chorus. The ladies were singing all +together as they twisted their handkerchiefs. +</p> + +<p> +“The child that is lost is the child of God’s love.” +</p> + +<p> +The singer was greatly complimented and she resumed her seat affecting to be +quite broken down. She asked for something to drink because she always put too +much feeling into that song and she was constantly afraid of straining her +vocal chords. Everyone at the table now had their eyes fixed on Lantier who, +quietly seated beside Coupeau, was devouring the last piece of Savoy cake which +he dipped in his glass of wine. With the exception of Virginie and Madame Boche +none of the guests knew him. The Lorilleuxs certainly scented some underhand +business, but not knowing what, they merely assumed their most conceited air. +Goujet, who had noticed Gervaise’s emotion, gave the newcomer a sour +look. As an awkward pause ensued Coupeau simply said: +</p> + +<p> +“A friend of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +And turning to his wife, added: +</p> + +<p> +“Come, stir yourself! Perhaps there’s still some hot coffee +left.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, feeling meek and stupid, looked at them one after the other. At +first, when her husband pushed her old lover into the shop, she buried her head +between her hands, the same as she instinctively did on stormy days at each +clap of thunder. She could not believe it possible; the walls would fall in and +crush them all. Then, when she saw the two sitting together peacefully, she +suddenly accepted it as quite natural. A happy feeling of languor benumbed her, +retained her all in a heap at the edge of the table, with the sole desire of +not being bothered. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> what is the use of putting oneself out +when others do not, and when things arrange themselves to the satisfaction of +everybody? She got up to see if there was any coffee left. +</p> + +<p> +In the back-room the children had fallen asleep. That squint-eyed Augustine had +tyrannized over them all during the dessert, pilfering their strawberries and +frightening them with the most abominable threats. Now she felt very ill, and +was bent double upon a stool, not uttering a word, her face ghastly pale. Fat +Pauline had let her head fall against Etienne’s shoulder, and he himself +was sleeping on the edge of the table. Nana was seated with Victor on the rug +beside the bedstead, she had passed her arm round his neck and was drawing him +towards her; and, succumbing to drowsiness and with her eyes shut, she kept +repeating in a feeble voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Mamma, I’m not well; oh! mamma, I’m not well.” +</p> + +<p> +“No wonder!” murmured Augustine, whose head was rolling about on +her shoulders, “they’re drunk; they’ve been singing like +grown up persons.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise received another blow on beholding Etienne. She felt as though she +would choke when she thought of the youngster’s father being there in the +other room, eating cake, and that he had not even expressed a desire to kiss +the little fellow. She was on the point of rousing Etienne and of carrying him +there in her arms. Then she again felt that the quiet way in which matters had +been arranged was the best. It would not have been proper to have disturbed the +harmony of the end of the dinner. She returned with the coffee-pot and poured +out a glass of coffee for Lantier, who, by the way, did not appear to take any +notice of her. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, it’s my turn,” stuttered Coupeau, in a thick voice. +“You’ve been keeping the best for the last. Well! I’ll sing +you ‘That Piggish Child.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, ‘That Piggish Child,’” cried everyone. +</p> + +<p> +The uproar was beginning again. Lantier was forgotten. The ladies prepared +their glasses and their knives for accompanying the chorus. They laughed +beforehand, as they looked at the zinc-worker, who steadied himself on his legs +as he put on his most vulgar air. Mimicking the hoarse voice of an old woman, +he sang: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“When out of bed each morn I hop,<br/> +I’m always precious queer;<br/> +I send him for a little drop<br/> +To the drinking-den that’s near.<br/> +A good half hour or more he’ll stay,<br/> +And that makes me so riled,<br/> +He swigs it half upon his way:<br/> +What a piggish child!” +</p> + +<p> +And the ladies, striking their glasses, repeated in chorus in the midst of a +formidable gaiety: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“What a piggish child!<br/> +What a piggish child!” +</p> + +<p> +Even the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or itself joined in now. The whole +neighborhood was singing “What a piggish child!” The little +clockmaker, the grocery clerks, the tripe woman and the fruit woman all knew +the song and joined in the chorus. The entire street seemed to be getting drunk +on the odors from the Coupeau party. In the reddish haze from the two lamps, +the noise of the party was enough to shut out the rumbling of the last vehicles +in the street. Two policemen rushed over, thinking there was a riot, but on +recognizing Poisson, they saluted him smartly and went away between the +darkened buildings. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau was now singing this verse: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“On Sundays at Petite Villette,<br/> +Whene’er the weather’s fine,<br/> +We call on uncle, old Tinette,<br/> +Who’s in the dustman line.<br/> +To feast upon some cherry stones<br/> +The young un’s almost wild,<br/> +And rolls amongst the dust and bones,<br/> +What a piggish child!<br/> +What a piggish child!” +</p> + +<p> +Then the house almost collapsed, such a yell ascended in the calm warm night +air that the shouters applauded themselves, for it was useless their hoping to +be able to bawl any louder. +</p> + +<p> +Not one of the party could ever recollect exactly how the carouse terminated. +It must have been very late, it’s quite certain, for not a cat was to be +seen in the street. Possibly too, they had all joined hands and danced round +the table. But all was submerged in a yellow mist, in which red faces were +jumping about, with mouths slit from ear to ear. They had probably treated +themselves to something stronger than wine towards the end, and there was a +vague suspicion that some one had played them the trick of putting salt into +the glasses. The children must have undressed and put themselves to bed. On the +morrow, Madame Boche boasted of having treated Boche to a couple of clouts in a +corner, where he was conversing a great deal too close to the charcoal-dealer; +but Boche, who recollected nothing, said she must have dreamt it. Everyone +agreed that it wasn’t very decent the way Clemence had carried on. She +had ended by showing everything she had and then been so sick that she had +completely ruined one of the muslin curtains. The men had at least the decency +to go into the street; Lorilleux and Poisson, feeling their stomachs upset, had +stumblingly glided as far as the pork-butcher’s shop. It is easy to see +when a person has been well brought up. For instance, the ladies, Madame +Putois, Madame Lerat, and Virginie, indisposed by the heat, had simply gone +into the back-room and taken their stays off; Virginie had even desired to lie +on the bed for a minute, just to obviate any unpleasant effects. Thus the party +had seemed to melt away, some disappearing behind the others, all accompanying +one another, and being lost sight of in the surrounding darkness, to the +accompaniment of a final uproar, a furious quarrel between the Lorilleuxs, and +an obstinate and mournful “trou la la, trou la la,” of old +Bru’s. Gervaise had an idea that Goujet had burst out sobbing when +bidding her good-bye; Coupeau was still singing; and as for Lantier, he must +have remained till the end. At one moment even, she could still feel a breath +against her hair, but she was unable to say whether it came from Lantier or if +it was the warm night air. +</p> + +<p> +Since Madame Lerat didn’t want to return to Les Batignolles at such a +late hour, they took one of the mattresses off the bed and spread it for her in +a corner of the shop, after pushing back the table. She slept right there amid +all the dinner crumbs. All night long, while the Coupeaus were sleeping, a +neighbor’s cat took advantage of an open window and was crunching the +bones of the goose with its sharp teeth, giving the bird its final resting +place. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"></a> +CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p> +On the following Saturday Coupeau, who had not come home to dinner, brought +Lantier with him towards ten o’clock. They had had some sheep’s +trotters at Chez Thomas at Montmartre. +</p> + +<p> +“You mustn’t scold, wife,” said the zinc-worker. +“We’re sober, as you can see. Oh! there’s no fear with him; +he keeps one on the straight road.” +</p> + +<p> +And he related how they happened to meet in the Rue Rochechouart. After dinner +Lantier had declined to have a drink at the “Black Ball,” saying +that when one was married to a pretty and worthy little woman, one ought not to +go liquoring-up at all the wineshops. Gervaise smiled slightly as she listened. +Oh! she was not thinking of scolding, she felt too much embarrassed for that. +She had been expecting to see her former lover again some day ever since their +dinner party; but at such an hour, when she was about to go to bed, the +unexpected arrival of the two men had startled her. Her hands were quivering as +she pinned back the hair which had slid down her neck. +</p> + +<p> +“You know,” resumed Coupeau, “as he was so polite as to +decline a drink outside, you must treat us to one here. Ah! you certainly owe +us that!” +</p> + +<p> +The workwomen had left long ago. Mother Coupeau and Nana had just gone to bed. +Gervaise, who had been just about to put up the shutters when they appeared, +left the shop open and brought some glasses which she placed on a corner of the +work-table with what was left of a bottle of brandy. +</p> + +<p> +Lantier remained standing and avoided speaking directly to her. However, when +she served him, he exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Only a thimbleful, madame, if you please.” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau looked at them and then spoke his mind very plainly. They were not +going to behave like a couple of geese he hoped! The past was past was it not? +If people nursed grudges for nine and ten years together one would end by no +longer seeing anybody. No, no, he carried his heart in his hand, he did! First +of all, he knew who he had to deal with, a worthy woman and a worthy +man—in short two friends! He felt easy; he knew he could depend upon +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! that’s certain, quite certain,” repeated Gervaise, +looking on the ground and scarcely understanding what she said. +</p> + +<p> +“She is a sister now—nothing but a sister!” murmured Lantier +in his turn. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mon Dieu!</i> shake hands,” cried Coupeau, “and let those +who don’t like it go to blazes! When one has proper feelings one is +better off than millionaires. For myself I prefer friendship before everything +because friendship is friendship and there’s nothing to beat it.” +</p> + +<p> +He dealt himself heavy blows on the chest, and seemed so moved that they had to +calm him. They all three silently clinked glasses, and drank their drop of +brandy. Gervaise was then able to look at Lantier at her ease; for on the night +of her saint’s day, she had only seen him through a fog. He had grown +more stout, his arms and legs seeming too heavy because of his small stature. +His face was still handsome even though it was a little puffy now due to his +life of idleness. He still took great pains with his narrow moustache. He +looked about his actual age. He was wearing grey trousers, a heavy blue +overcoat, and a round hat. He even had a watch with a silver chain on which a +ring was hanging as a keepsake. He looked quite like a gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m off,” said he. “I live no end of a distance from +here.” +</p> + +<p> +He was already on the pavement when the zinc-worker called him back to make him +promise never to pass the door without looking in to wish them good day. +Meanwhile Gervaise, who had quietly disappeared, returned pushing Etienne +before her. The child, who was in his shirt-sleeves and half asleep, smiled as +he rubbed his eyes. But when he beheld Lantier he stood trembling and +embarrassed, and casting anxious glances in the direction of his mother and +Coupeau. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you remember this gentleman?” asked the latter. +</p> + +<p> +The child held down his head without replying. Then he made a slight sign which +meant that he did remember the gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +“Well! Then, don’t stand there like a fool; go and kiss him.” +</p> + +<p> +Lantier gravely and quietly waited. When Etienne had made up his mind to +approach him, he stooped down, presented both his cheeks, and then kissed the +youngster on the forehead himself. At this the boy ventured to look at his +father; but all on a sudden he burst out sobbing and scampered away like a mad +creature with his clothes half falling off him, whilst Coupeau angrily called +him a young savage. +</p> + +<p> +“The emotion’s too much for him,” said Gervaise, pale and +agitated herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! he’s generally very gentle and nice,” exclaimed Coupeau. +“I’ve brought him up properly, as you’ll see. He’ll get +used to you. He must learn to know people. We can’t stay mad. We should +have made up a long time ago for his sake. I’d rather have my head cut +off than keep a father from seeing his own son.” +</p> + +<p> +Having thus delivered himself, he talked of finishing the bottle of brandy. All +three clinked glasses again. Lantier showed no surprise, but remained perfectly +calm. By way of repaying the zinc-worker’s politeness he persisted in +helping him put up the shutters before taking his departure. Then rubbing his +hands together to get rid of the dust on them, he wished the couple good-night. +</p> + +<p> +“Sleep well. I shall try and catch the last bus. I promise you I’ll +look in again soon.” +</p> + +<p> +After that evening Lantier frequently called at the Rue de la +Goutte-d’Or. He came when the zinc-worker was there, inquiring after his +health the moment he passed the door and affecting to have solely called on his +account. Then clean-shaven, his hair nicely combed and always wearing his +overcoat, he would take a seat by the window and converse politely with the +manners of an educated man. It was thus that the Coupeaus learnt little by +little the details of his life. During the last eight years he had for a while +managed a hat factory; and when they asked him why he had retired from it he +merely alluded to the rascality of a partner, a fellow from his native place, a +scoundrel who had squandered all the takings with women. His former position as +an employer continued to affect his entire personality, like a title of +nobility that he could not abandon. He was always talking of concluding a +magnificent deal with some hatmakers who were going to set him up in business. +While waiting for this he did nothing but stroll around all day like one of the +idle rich. If anyone dared to mention a hat factory looking for workers, he +smiled and said he was not interested in breaking his back working for others. +</p> + +<p> +A smart fellow like Lantier, according to Coupeau, knew how to take care of +himself. He always looked prosperous and it took money to look thus. He must +have some deal going. One morning Coupeau had seen him having his shoes shined +on the Boulevard Montmartre. Lantier was very talkative about others, but the +truth was that he told lies about himself. He would not even say where he +lived, only that he was staying with a friend and there was no use in coming to +see him because he was never in. +</p> + +<p> +It was now early November. Lantier would gallantly bring bunches of violets for +Gervaise and the workwomen. He was now coming almost every day. He won the +favor of Clemence and Madame Putois with his little attentions. At the end of +the month they adored him. The Boches, whom he flattered by going to pay his +respects in their concierge’s lodge, went into ecstasies over his +politeness. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the Lorilleuxs knew who he was, they howled at the impudence of +Gervaise in bringing her former lover into her home. However, one day Lantier +went to visit them and made such a good impression when he ordered a necklace +for a lady of his acquaintance that they invited him to sit down. He stayed an +hour and they were so charmed by his conversation that they wondered how a man +of such distinction had ever lived with Clump-clump. Soon Lantier’s +visits to the Coupeaus were accepted as perfectly natural; he was in the good +graces of everyone along the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or. Goujet was the only +one who remained cold. If he happened to be there when Lantier arrived, he +would leave at once as he didn’t want to be obliged to be friendly to +him. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst, however, of all this extraordinary affection for Lantier, +Gervaise lived in a state of great agitation for the first few weeks. She felt +that burning sensation in the pit of her stomach which affected her on the day +when Virginie first alluded to her past life. Her great fear was that she might +find herself without strength, if he came upon her all alone one night and took +it into his head to kiss her. She thought of him too much; she was for ever +thinking of him. But she gradually became calmer on seeing him behave so well, +never looking her in the face, never even touching her with the tips of his +fingers when no one was watching. Then Virginie, who seemed to read within her, +made her ashamed of all her wicked thoughts. Why did she tremble? Once could +not hope to come across a nicer man. She certainly had nothing to fear now. And +one day the tall brunette maneuvered in such a way as to get them both into a +corner, and to turn the conversation to the subject of love. Lantier, choosing +his words, declared in a grave voice that his heart was dead, that for the +future he wished to consecrate his life solely for his son’s happiness. +Every evening he would kiss Etienne on the forehead, yet he was apt to forget +him in teasing back and forth with Clemence. And he never mentioned Claude who +was still in the south. Gervaise began to feel at ease. Lantier’s actual +presence overshadowed her memories, and seeing him all the time, she no longer +dreamed about him. She even felt a certain repugnance at the thought of their +former relationship. Yes, it was over. If he dared to approach her, she’d +box his ears, or even better, she’d tell her husband. Once again her +thoughts turned to Goujet and his affection for her. +</p> + +<p> +One morning Clemence reported that the previous night, at about eleven +o’clock, she had seen Monsieur Lantier with a woman. She told about it +maliciously and in coarse terms to see how Gervaise would react. Yes, Monsieur +Lantier was on the Rue Notre Dame de Lorette with a blonde and she followed +them. They had gone into a shop where the worn-out and used-up woman had bought +some shrimps. Then they went to the Rue de La Rochefoucauld. Monsieur Lantier +had waited on the pavement in front of the house while his lady friend went in +alone. Then she had beckoned to him from the window to join her. +</p> + +<p> +No matter how Clemence went on with the story Gervaise went on peacefully +ironing a white dress. Sometimes she smiled faintly. These southerners, she +said, are all crazy about women; they have to have them no matter what, even if +they come from a dung heap. When Lantier came in that evening, Gervaise was +amused when Clemence teased him about the blonde. He seemed to feel flattered +that he had been seen. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> she was just an old friend, he +explained. He saw her from time to time. She was quite stylish. He mentioned +some of her former lovers, among them a count, an important merchant and the +son of a lawyer. He added that a bit of playing around didn’t mean a +thing, his heart was dead. In the end Clemence had to pay a price for her +meanness. She certainly felt Lantier pinching her hard two or three times +without seeming to do so. She was also jealous because she didn’t reek of +musk like that boulevard work-horse. +</p> + +<p> +When spring came, Lantier, who was now quite one of the family, talked of +living in the neighborhood, so as to be nearer his friends. He wanted a +furnished room in a decent house. Madame Boche, and even Gervaise herself went +searching about to find it for him. They explored the neighboring streets. But +he was always too difficult to please; he required a big courtyard, a room on +the ground floor; in fact, every luxury imaginable. And then every evening, at +the Coupeaus’, he seemed to measure the height of the ceilings, study the +arrangement of the rooms, and covet a similar lodging. Oh, he would never have +asked for anything better, he would willingly have made himself a hole in that +warm, quiet corner. Then each time he wound up his inspection with these words: +</p> + +<p> +“By Jove! you are comfortably situated here.” +</p> + +<p> +One evening, when he had dined there, and was making the same remark during the +dessert, Coupeau, who now treated him most familiarly, suddenly exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“You must stay here, old boy, if it suits you. It’s easily +arranged.” +</p> + +<p> +And he explained that the dirty-clothes room, cleaned out, would make a nice +apartment. Etienne could sleep in the shop, on a mattress on the floor, that +was all. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” said Lantier, “I cannot accept. It would +inconvenience you too much. I know that it’s willingly offered, but we +should be too warm all jumbled up together. Besides, you know, each one likes +his liberty. I should have to go through your room, and that wouldn’t be +exactly funny.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, the rogue!” resumed the zinc-worker, choking with laughter, +banging his fist down on the table, “he’s always thinking of +something smutty! But, you joker, we’re of an inventive turn of mind! +There’re two windows in the room, aren’t there? Well, we’ll +knock one out and turn it into a door. Then, you understand you come in by way +of the courtyard, and we can even stop up the other door, if we like. Thus +you’ll be in your home, and we in ours.” +</p> + +<p> +A pause ensued. At length the hatter murmured: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, yes, in that manner perhaps we might. And yet no, I should be too +much in your way.” +</p> + +<p> +He avoided looking at Gervaise. But he was evidently waiting for a word from +her before accepting. She was very much annoyed at her husband’s idea; +not that the thought of seeing Lantier living with them wounded her feelings, +or made her particularly uneasy, but she was wondering where she would be able +to keep the dirty clothes. Coupeau was going on about the advantages of the +arrangement. Their rent, five hundred francs, had always been a bit steep. +Their friend could pay twenty francs a month for a nicely furnished room and it +would help them with the rent. He would be responsible for fixing up a big box +under their bed that would be large enough to hold all the dirty clothes. +Gervaise still hesitated. She looked toward mother Coupeau for guidance. +Lantier had won over mother Coupeau months ago by bringing her gum drops for +her cough. +</p> + +<p> +“You would certainly not be in our way,” Gervaise ended by saying. +“We could so arrange things—” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, thanks,” repeated the hatter. “You’re too +kind; it would be asking too much.” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau could no longer restrain himself. Was he going to continue making +objections when they told him it was freely offered? He would be obliging them. +There, did he understand? Then in an excited tone of voice he yelled: +</p> + +<p> +“Etienne! Etienne!” +</p> + +<p> +The youngster had fallen asleep on the table. He raised his head with a start. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, tell him that you wish it. Yes, that gentleman there. Tell him +as loud as you can: ‘I wish it!’” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish it!” stuttered Etienne, his voice thick with sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Everyone laughed. But Lantier resumed his grave and impressive air. He squeezed +Coupeau’s hand across the table as he said: +</p> + +<p> +“I accept. It’s in all good fellowship on both sides, is it not? +Yes, I accept for the child’s sake.” +</p> + +<p> +The next day when the landlord, Monsieur Marescot, came to spend an hour with +the Boches, Gervaise mentioned the matter to him. He refused angrily at first. +Then, after a careful inspection of the premises, particularly gazing upward to +verify that the upper floors would not be weakened, he finally granted +permission on condition there would be no expense to him. He had the Coupeaus +sign a paper saying they would restore everything to its original state on the +expiration of the lease. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau brought in some friends of his that very evening—a mason, a +carpenter and a painter. They would do this job in the evenings as a favor to +him. Still, installing the door and cleaning up the room cost over one hundred +francs, not counting the wine that kept the work going. Coupeau told his +friends he’d pay them something later, out of the rent from his tenant. +</p> + +<p> +Then the furniture for the room had to be sorted out. Gervaise left mother +Coupeau’s wardrobe where it was, and added a table and two chairs taken +from her own room. She had to buy a washing-stand and a bed with mattress and +bedclothes, costing one hundred and thirty francs, which she was to pay off at +ten francs a month. Although Lantier’s twenty francs would be used to pay +off these debts for ten months, there would be a nice little profit later. +</p> + +<p> +It was during the early days of June that the hatter moved in. The day before, +Coupeau had offered to go with him and fetch his box, to save him the thirty +sous for a cab. But the other became quite embarrassed, saying that the box was +too heavy, as though he wished up to the last moment to hide the place where he +lodged. He arrived in the afternoon towards three o’clock. Coupeau did +not happen to be in. And Gervaise, standing at the shop door became quite pale +on recognizing the box outside the cab. It was their old box, the one with +which they had journeyed from Plassans, all scratched and broken now and held +together by cords. She saw it return as she had often dreamt it would and it +needed no great stretch of imagination to believe that the same cab, that cab +in which that strumpet of a burnisher had played her such a foul trick, had +brought the box back again. Meanwhile Boche was giving Lantier a helping hand. +The laundress followed them in silence and feeling rather dazed. When they had +deposited their burden in the middle of the room she said for the sake of +saying something: +</p> + +<p> +“Well! That’s a good thing finished, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Then pulling herself together, seeing that Lantier, busy in undoing the cords +was not even looking at her, she added: +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Boche, you must have a drink.” +</p> + +<p> +And she went and fetched a quart of wine and some glasses. +</p> + +<p> +Just then Poisson passed along the pavement in uniform. She signaled to him, +winking her eye and smiling. The policeman understood perfectly. When he was on +duty and anyone winked their eye to him it meant a glass of wine. He would even +walk for hours up and down before the laundry waiting for a wink. Then so as +not to be seen, he would pass through the courtyard and toss off the liquor in +secret. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! ah!” said Lantier when he saw him enter, “it’s +you, Badingue.” +</p> + +<p> +He called him Badingue for a joke, just to show how little he cared for the +Emperor. Poisson put up with it in his stiff way without one knowing whether it +really annoyed him or not. Besides the two men, though separated by their +political convictions, had become very good friends. +</p> + +<p> +“You know that the Emperor was once a policeman in London,” said +Boche in his turn. “Yes, on my word! He used to take the drunken women to +the station-house.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise had filled three glasses on the table. She would not drink herself, +she felt too sick at heart, but she stood there longing to see what the box +contained and watching Lantier remove the last cords. Before raising the lid +Lantier took his glass and clinked it with the others. +</p> + +<p> +“Good health.” +</p> + +<p> +“Same to you,” replied Boche and Poisson. +</p> + +<p> +The laundress filled the glasses again. The three men wiped their lips on the +backs of their hands. And at last the hatter opened the box. It was full of a +jumble of newspapers, books, old clothes and underlinen, in bundles. He took +out successively a saucepan, a pair of boots, a bust of Ledru-Rollin with the +nose broken, an embroidered shirt and a pair of working trousers. Gervaise +could smell the odor of tobacco and that of a man whose linen wasn’t too +clean, one who took care only of the outside, of what people could see. +</p> + +<p> +The old hat was no longer in the left corner. There was a pincushion she did +not recognize, doubtless a present from some woman. She became calmer, but felt +a vague sadness as she continued to watch the objects that appeared, wondering +if they were from her time or from the time of others. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Badingue, do you know this?” resumed Lantier. +</p> + +<p> +He thrust under his nose a little book printed at Brussels. “The Amours +of Napoleon III.,” Illustrated with engravings. It related, among other +anecdotes, how the Emperor had seduced a girl of thirteen, the daughter of a +cook; and the picture represented Napoleon III., bare-legged, and also wearing +the grand ribbon of the Legion of Honor, pursuing a little girl who was trying +to escape his lust. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! that’s it exactly!” exclaimed Boche, whose slyly +ridiculous instincts felt flattered by the sight. “It always happens like +that!” +</p> + +<p> +Poisson was seized with consternation, and he could not find a word to say in +the Emperor’s defense. It was in a book, so he could not deny it. Then, +Lantier, continuing to push the picture under his nose in a jeering way, he +extended his arms and exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, so what?” +</p> + +<p> +Lantier didn’t reply. He busied himself arranging his books and +newspapers on a shelf in the wardrobe. He seemed upset not to have a small +bookshelf over his table, so Gervaise promised to get him one. He had +“The History of Ten Years” by Louis Blanc (except for the first +volume), Lamartine’s “The Girondins” in installments, +“The Mysteries of Paris” and “The Wandering Jew” by +Eugene Sue, and a quantity of booklets on philosophic and humanitarian subjects +picked up from used book dealers. +</p> + +<p> +His newspapers were his prized possessions, a collection made over a number of +years. Whenever he read an article in a cafe that seemed to him to agree with +his own ideas, he would buy that newspaper and keep it. He had an enormous +bundle of them, papers of every date and every title, piled up in no +discernable order. He patted them and said to the other two: +</p> + +<p> +“You see that? No one else can boast of having anything to match it. You +can’t imagine all that’s in there. I mean, if they put into +practice only half the ideas, it would clean up the social order overnight. +That would be good medicine for your Emperor and all his stool pigeons.” +</p> + +<p> +The policeman’s red mustache and beard began to bristle on his pale face +and he interrupted: +</p> + +<p> +“And the army, tell me, what are you going to do about that?” +</p> + +<p> +Lantier flew into a passion. He banged his fists down on the newspapers as he +yelled: +</p> + +<p> +“I require the suppression of militarism, the fraternity of peoples. I +require the abolition of privileges, of titles, and of monopolies. I require +the equality of salaries, the division of benefits, the glorification of the +protectorate. All liberties, do you hear? All of them! And divorce!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, divorce for morality!” insisted Boche. +</p> + +<p> +Poisson had assumed a majestic air. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet if I won’t have your liberties, I’m free to refuse +them,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +Lantier was choking with passion. +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t want them—if you don’t want +them—” he replied. “No, you’re not free at all! If you +don’t want them, I’ll send you off to Devil’s Island. Yes, +Devil’s Island with your Emperor and all the rats of his crew.” +</p> + +<p> +They always quarreled thus every time they met. Gervaise, who did not like +arguments, usually interfered. She roused herself from the torpor into which +the sight of the box, full of the stale perfume of her past love, had plunged +her, and she drew the three men’s attention to the glasses. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! yes,” said Lantier, becoming suddenly calm and taking his +glass. “Good health!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good health!” replied Boche and Poisson, clinking glasses with +him. +</p> + +<p> +Boche, however, was moving nervously about, troubled by an anxiety as he looked +at the policeman out of the corner of his eye. +</p> + +<p> +“All this between ourselves, eh, Monsieur Poisson?” murmured he at +length. “We say and show you things to show off.” +</p> + +<p> +But Poisson did not let him finish. He placed his hand upon his heart, as +though to explain that all remained buried there. He certainly did not go +spying about on his friends. Coupeau arriving, they emptied a second quart. +Then the policeman went off by way of the courtyard and resumed his stiff and +measured tread along the pavement. +</p> + +<p> +At the beginning of the new arrangement, the entire routine of the +establishment was considerably upset. Lantier had his own separate room, with +his own entrance and his own key. However, since they had decided not to close +off the door between the rooms, he usually came and went through the shop. +Besides, the dirty clothes were an inconvenience to Gervaise because her +husband never made the case he had promised and she had to tuck the dirty +laundry into any odd corner she could find. They usually ended up under the bed +and this was not very pleasant on warm summer nights. She also found it a +nuisance having to make up Etienne’s bed every evening in the shop. When +her employees worked late, the lad had to sleep in a chair until they finished. +</p> + +<p> +Goujet had mentioned sending Etienne to Lille where a machinist he knew was +looking for apprentices. As the boy was unhappy at home and eager to be out on +his own, Gervaise seriously considered the proposal. Her only fear was that +Lantier would refuse. Since he had come to live with them solely to be near his +son, surely he wouldn’t want to lose him only two weeks after he moved +in. However he approved whole-heartedly when she timidly broached the matter to +him. He said that young men needed to see a bit of the country. The morning +that Etienne left Lantier made a speech to him, kissed him and ended by saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Never forget that a workingman is not a slave, and that whoever is not a +workingman is a lazy drone.” +</p> + +<p> +The household was now able to get into the new routine. Gervaise became +accustomed to having dirty laundry lying all around. Lantier was forever +talking of important business deals. Sometimes he went out, wearing fresh linen +and neatly combed. He would stay out all night and on his return pretend that +he was completely exhausted because he had been discussing very serious +matters. Actually he was merely taking life easy. He usually slept until ten. +In the afternoons he would take a walk if the weather was nice. If it was +raining, he would sit in the shop reading his newspaper. This atmosphere suited +him. He always felt at his ease with women and enjoyed listening to them. +</p> + +<p> +Lantier first took his meals at Francois’s, at the corner of the Rue des +Poissonniers. But of the seven days in the week he dined with the Coupeaus on +three or four; so much so that he ended by offering to board with them and to +pay them fifteen francs every Saturday. From that time he scarcely ever left +the house, but made himself completely at home there. Morning to night he was +in the shop, even giving orders and attending to customers. +</p> + +<p> +Lantier didn’t like the wine from Francois’s, so he persuaded +Gervaise to buy her wine from Vigouroux, the coal-dealer. Then he decided that +Coudeloup’s bread was not baked to his satisfaction, so he sent Augustine +to the Viennese bakery in the Faubourg Poissonniers for their bread. He changed +from the grocer Lehongre but kept the butcher, fat Charles, because of his +political opinions. After a month he wanted all the cooking done with olive +oil. Clemence joked that with a Provencal like him you could never wash out the +oil stains. He wanted his omelets fried on both sides, as hard as pancakes. He +supervised mother Coupeau’s cooking, wanting his steaks cooked like shoe +leather and with garlic on everything. He got angry if she put herbs in the +salad. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re just weeds and some of them might be poisonous,” he +declared. His favorite soup was made with over-boiled vermicelli. He would pour +in half a bottle of olive oil. Only he and Gervaise could eat this soup, the +others being too used to Parisian cooking. +</p> + +<p> +Little by little Lantier also came to mixing himself up in the affairs of the +family. As the Lorilleuxs always grumbled at having to part with the five +francs for mother Coupeau, he explained that an action could be brought against +them. They must think that they had a set of fools to deal with! It was ten +francs a month which they ought to give! And he would go up himself for the ten +francs so boldly and yet so amiably that the chainmaker never dared refuse +them. Madame Lerat also gave two five-franc pieces now. Mother Coupeau could +have kissed Lantier’s hands. He was, moreover, the grand arbiter in all +the quarrels between the old woman and Gervaise. Whenever the laundress, in a +moment of impatience, behaved roughly to her mother-in-law and the latter went +and cried on her bed, he hustled them about and made them kiss each other, +asking them if they thought themselves amusing with their bad tempers. +</p> + +<p> +And Nana, too; she was being brought up badly, according to his idea. In that +he was right, for whenever the father spanked the child, the mother took her +part, and if the mother, in her turn, boxed her ears, the father made a +disturbance. Nana delighted at seeing her parents abuse each other, and knowing +that she was forgiven beforehand, was up to all kinds of tricks. Her latest +mania was to go and play in the blacksmith shop opposite; she would pass the +entire day swinging on the shafts of the carts; she would hide with bands of +urchins in the remotest corners of the gray courtyard, lighted up with the red +glare of the forge; and suddenly she would reappear, running and shouting, +unkempt and dirty and followed by the troop of urchins, as though a sudden +clash of the hammers had frightened the ragamuffins away. Lantier alone could +scold her; and yet she knew perfectly well how to get over him. This tricky +little girl of ten would walk before him like a lady, swinging herself about +and casting side glances at him, her eyes already full of vice. He had ended by +undertaking her education: he taught her to dance and to talk patois. +</p> + +<p> +A year passed thus. In the neighborhood it was thought that Lantier had a +private income, for this was the only way to account for the Coupeaus’ +grand style of living. No doubt Gervaise continued to earn money; but now that +she had to support two men in doing nothing, the shop certainly could not +suffice; more especially as the shop no longer had so good a reputation, +customers were leaving and the workwomen were tippling from morning till night. +The truth was that Lantier paid nothing, neither for rent nor board. During the +first months he had paid sums on account, then he had contented himself with +speaking of a large amount he was going to receive, with which later on he +would pay off everything in a lump sum. Gervaise no longer dared ask him for a +centime. She had the bread, the wine, the meat, all on credit. The bills +increased everywhere at the rate of three and four francs a day. She had not +paid a sou to the furniture dealer nor to the three comrades, the mason, the +carpenter and the painter. All these people commenced to grumble, and she was +no longer greeted with the same politeness at the shops. +</p> + +<p> +She was as though intoxicated by a mania for getting into debt; she tried to +drown her thoughts, ordered the most expensive things, and gave full freedom to +her gluttony now that she no longer paid for anything; she remained withal very +honest at heart, dreaming of earning from morning to night hundreds of francs, +though she did not exactly know how, to enable her to distribute handfuls of +five-franc pieces to her tradespeople. In short, she was sinking, and as she +sank lower and lower she talked of extending her business. Instead she went +deeper into debt. Clemence left around the middle of the summer because there +was no longer enough work for two women and she had not been paid in several +weeks. +</p> + +<p> +During this impending ruin, Coupeau and Lantier were, in effect, devouring the +shop and growing fat on the ruin of the establishment. At table they would +challenge each other to take more helpings and slap their rounded stomachs to +make more room for dessert. +</p> + +<p> +The great subject of conversation in the neighborhood was as to whether Lantier +had really gone back to his old footing with Gervaise. On this point opinions +were divided. According to the Lorilleuxs, Clump-clump was doing everything she +could to hook Lantier again, but he would no longer have anything to do with +her because she was getting old and faded and he had plenty of younger girls +that were prettier. On the other hand, according to the Boches, Gervaise had +gone back to her former mate the very first night, just as soon as poor Coupeau +had gone to sleep. The picture was not pretty, but there were a lot of worse +things in life, so folks ended by accepting the threesome as altogether +natural. In fact, they thought them rather nice since there were never any +fights and the outward decencies remained. Certainly if you stuck your nose +into some of the other neighborhood households you could smell far worse +things. So what if they slept together like a nice little family. It never kept +the neighbors awake. Besides, everyone was still very much impressed by +Lantier’s good manners. His charm helped greatly to keep tongues from +wagging. Indeed, when the fruit dealer insisted to the tripe seller that there +had been no intimacies, the latter appeared to feel that this was really too +bad, because it made the Coupeaus less interesting. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was quite at her ease in this matter, and not much troubled with these +thoughts. Things reached the point that she was accused of being heartless. The +family did not understand why she continued to bear a grudge against the +hatter. Madame Lerat now came over every evening. She considered Lantier as +utterly irresistible and said that most ladies would be happy to fall into his +arms. Madame Boche declared that her own virtue would not be safe if she were +ten years younger. There was a sort of silent conspiracy to push Gervaise into +the arms of Lantier, as if all the women around her felt driven to satisfy +their own longings by giving her a lover. Gervaise didn’t understand this +because she no longer found Lantier seductive. Certainly he had changed for the +better. He had gotten a sort of education in the cafes and political meetings +but she knew him well. She could pierce to the depths of his soul and she found +things there that still gave her the shivers. Well, if the others found him so +attractive, why didn’t they try it themselves. In the end she suggested +this one day to Virginie who seemed the most eager. Then, to excite Gervaise, +Madame Lerat and Virginie told her of the love of Lantier and tall Clemence. +Yes, she had not noticed anything herself; but as soon as she went out on an +errand, the hatter would bring the workgirl into his room. Now people met them +out together; he probably went to see her at her own place. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said the laundress, her voice trembling slightly, +“what can it matter to me?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked straight into Virginie’s eyes. Did this woman still have it in +for her? +</p> + +<p> +Virginie replied with an air of innocence: +</p> + +<p> +“It can’t matter to you, of course. Only, you ought to advise him +to break off with that girl, who is sure to cause him some +unpleasantness.” +</p> + +<p> +The worst of it was that Lantier, feeling himself supported by public opinion, +changed altogether in his behavior towards Gervaise. Now, whenever he shook +hands with her, he held her fingers for a minute between his own. He tried her +with his glance, fixing a bold look upon her, in which she clearly read that he +wanted her. If he passed behind her, he dug his knees into her skirt, or +breathed upon her neck. Yet he waited a while before being rough and openly +declaring himself. But one evening, finding himself alone with her, he pushed +her before him without a word, and viewed her all trembling against the wall at +the back of the shop, and tried to kiss her. It so chanced that Goujet entered +just at that moment. Then she struggled and escaped. And all three exchanged a +few words, as though nothing had happened. Goujet, his face deadly pale, looked +on the ground, fancying that he had disturbed them, and that she had merely +struggled so as not to be kissed before a third party. +</p> + +<p> +The next day Gervaise moved restlessly about the shop. She was miserable and +unable to iron even a single handkerchief. She only wanted to see Goujet and +explain to him how Lantier happened to have pinned her against the wall. But +since Etienne had gone to Lille, she had hesitated to visit Goujet’s +forge where she felt she would be greeted by his fellow workers with secret +laughter. This afternoon, however, she yielded to the impulse. She took an +empty basket and went out under the pretext of going for the petticoats of her +customer on Rue des Portes-Blanches. Then, when she reached Rue Marcadet, she +walked very slowly in front of the bolt factory, hoping for a lucky meeting. +Goujet must have been hoping to see her, too, for within five minutes he came +out as if by chance. +</p> + +<p> +“You have been on an errand,” he said, smiling. “And now you +are on your way home.” +</p> + +<p> +Actually Gervaise had her back toward Rue des Poissonniers. He only said that +for something to say. They walked together up toward Montmartre, but without +her taking his arm. They wanted to get a bit away from the factory so as not to +seem to be having a rendezvous in front of it. They turned into a vacant lot +between a sawmill and a button factory. It was like a small green meadow. There +was even a goat tied to a stake. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s strange,” remarked Gervaise. “You’d think +you were in the country.” +</p> + +<p> +They went to sit under a dead tree. Gervaise placed the laundry basket by her +feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” Gervaise said, “I had an errand to do, and so I came +out.” +</p> + +<p> +She felt deeply ashamed and was afraid to try to explain. Yet she realized that +they had come here to discuss it. It remained a troublesome burden. +</p> + +<p> +Then, all in a rush, with tears in her eyes, she told him of the death that +morning of Madame Bijard, her washerwoman. She had suffered horrible agonies. +</p> + +<p> +“Her husband caused it by kicking her in the stomach,” she said in +a monotone. “He must have damaged her insides. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> She was +in agony for three days with her stomach all swelled up. Plenty of scoundrels +have been sent to the galleys for less than that, but the courts won’t +concern themselves with a wife-beater. Especially since the woman said she had +hurt herself falling. She wanted to save him from the scaffold, but she +screamed all night long before she died.” +</p> + +<p> +Goujet clenched his hands and remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +“She weaned her youngest only two weeks ago, little Jules,” +Gervaise went on. “That’s lucky for the baby, he won’t have +to suffer. Still, there’s the child Lalie and she has two babies to look +after. She isn’t eight yet, but she’s already sensible. Her father +will beat her now even more than before.” +</p> + +<p> +Goujet gazed at her silently. Then, his lips trembling: +</p> + +<p> +“You hurt me yesterday, yes, you hurt me badly.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise turned pale and clasped her hands as he continued: +</p> + +<p> +“I thought it would happen. You should have told me, you should have +trusted me enough to confess what was happening, so as not to leave me thinking +that—” +</p> + +<p> +Goujet could not finish the sentence. Gervaise stood up, realizing that he +thought she had gone back with Lantier as the neighbors asserted. Stretching +her arms toward him, she cried: +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, I swear to you. He was pushing against me, trying to kiss me, +but his face never even touched mine. It’s true, and that was the first +time he tried. Oh, I swear on my life, on the life of my children, oh, believe +me!” +</p> + +<p> +Goujet was shaking his head. Gervaise said slowly: +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Goujet, you know me well. You know that I do not lie. On my +word of honor, it never happened, and it never will, do you understand? Never! +I’d be the lowest of the low if it ever happened, and I wouldn’t +deserve the friendship of an honest man like you.” +</p> + +<p> +She seemed so sincere that he took her hand and made her sit down again. He +could breathe freely; his heart rejoiced. This was the first time he had ever +held her hand like this. He pressed it in his own and they both sat quietly for +a time. +</p> + +<p> +“I know your mother doesn’t like me,” Gervaise said in a low +voice. “Don’t bother to deny it. We owe you so much money.” +</p> + +<p> +He squeezed her hand tightly. He didn’t want to talk of money. Finally he +said: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been thinking of something for a long time. You are not happy +where you are. My mother tells me things are getting worse for you. Well, then, +we can go away together.” +</p> + +<p> +She didn’t understand at first and stared at him, startled by this sudden +declaration of a love that he had never mentioned. +</p> + +<p> +Finally she asked: +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll get away from here,” he said, looking down at the +ground. “We’ll go live somewhere else, in Belgium, if you wish. +With both of us working, we would soon be very comfortable.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise flushed. She thought she would have felt less shame if he had taken +her in his arms and kissed her. Goujet was an odd fellow, proposing to elope, +just the way it happens in novels. Well, she had seen plenty of workingmen +making up to married women, but they never took them even as far as +Saint-Denis. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Monsieur Goujet,” she murmured, not knowing what else to say. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you see?” he said. “There would only be the two +of us. It annoys me having others around.” +</p> + +<p> +Having regained her self-possession, however, she refused his proposal. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s impossible, Monsieur Goujet. It would be very wrong. +I’m a married woman and I have children. We’d soon regret it. I +know you care for me, and I care for you also, too much to let you do anything +foolish. It’s much better to stay just as we are. We have respect for +each other and that’s a lot. It’s been a comfort to me many times. +When people in our situation stay on the straight, it is better in the +end.” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded his head as he listened. He agreed with her and was unable to offer +any arguments. Suddenly he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, crushing +her. Then he let her go and said nothing more about their love. She +wasn’t angry. She felt they had earned that small moment of pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +Goujet now didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he went around +picking dandelions and tossing them into her basket. This amused him and +gradually soothed him. Gervaise was becoming relaxed and cheerful. When they +finally left the vacant lot they walked side by side and talked of how much +Etienne liked being at Lille. Her basket was full of yellow dandelions. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, at heart, did not feel as courageous when with Lantier as she said. +She was, indeed, perfectly resolved not to hear his flattery, even with the +slightest interest; but she was afraid, if ever he should touch her, of her old +cowardice, of that feebleness and gloominess into which she allowed herself to +glide, just to please people. Lantier, however, did not avow his affection. He +several times found himself alone with her and kept quiet. He seemed to think +of marrying the tripe-seller, a woman of forty-five and very well preserved. +Gervaise would talk of the tripe-seller in Goujet’s presence, so as to +set his mind at ease. She would say to Virginie and Madame Lerat, whenever they +were singing the hatter’s praises, that he could very well do without her +admiration, because all the women of the neighborhood were smitten with him. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau went braying about everywhere that Lantier was a friend and a true one. +People might jabber about them; he knew what he knew and did not care a straw +for their gossip, for he had respectability on his side. When they all three +went out walking on Sundays, he made his wife and the hatter walk arm-in-arm +before him, just by way of swaggering in the street; and he watched the people, +quite prepared to administer a drubbing if anyone had ventured on the least +joke. It was true that he regarded Lantier as a bit of a high flyer. He accused +him of avoiding hard liquor and teased him because he could read and spoke like +an educated man. Still, he accepted him as a regular comrade. They were ideally +suited to each other and friendship between men is more substantial than love +for a woman. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau and Lantier were forever going out junketing together. Lantier would +now borrow money from Gervaise—ten francs, twenty francs at a time, +whenever he smelt there was money in the house. Then on those days he would +keep Coupeau away from his work, talk of some distant errand and take him with +him. Then seated opposite to each other in the corner of some neighboring +eating house, they would guzzle fancy dishes which one cannot get at home and +wash them down with bottles of expensive wine. The zinc-worker would have +preferred to booze in a less pretentious place, but he was impressed by the +aristocratic tastes of Lantier, who would discover on the bill of fare dishes +with the most extraordinary names. +</p> + +<p> +It was hard to understand a man so hard to please. Maybe it was from being a +southerner. Lantier didn’t like anything too rich and argued about every +dish, sending back meat that was too salty or too peppery. He hated drafts. If +a door was left open, he complained loudly. At the same time, he was very +stingy, only giving the waiter a tip of two sous for a meal of seven or eight +francs. He was treated with respect in spite of that. +</p> + +<p> +The pair were well known along the exterior boulevards, from Batignolles to +Belleville. They would go to the Grand Rue des Batignolles to eat tripe cooked +in the Caen style. At the foot of Montmartre they obtained the best oysters in +the neighborhood at the “Town of Bar-le-Duc.” When they ventured to +the top of the height as far as the “Galette Windmill” they had a +stewed rabbit. The “Lilacs,” in the Rue des Martyrs, had a +reputation for their calf’s head, whilst the restaurant of the +“Golden Lion” and the “Two Chestnut Trees,” in the +Chaussee Clignancourt, served them stewed kidneys which made them lick their +lips. Usually they went toward Belleville where they had tables reserved for +them at some places of such excellent repute that you could order anything with +your eyes closed. These eating sprees were always surreptitious and the next +day they would refer to them indirectly while playing with the potatoes served +by Gervaise. Once Lantier brought a woman with him to the “Galette +Windmill” and Coupeau left immediately after dessert. +</p> + +<p> +One naturally cannot both guzzle and work; so that ever since the hatter was +made one of the family, the zinc-worker, who was already pretty lazy, had got +to the point of never touching a tool. When tired of doing nothing, he +sometimes let himself be prevailed upon to take a job. Then his comrade would +look him up and chaff him unmercifully when he found him hanging to his knotty +cord like a smoked ham, and he would call to him to come down and have a glass +of wine. And that settled it. The zinc-worker would send the job to blazes and +commence a booze which lasted days and weeks. Oh, it was a famous booze—a +general review of all the dram shops of the neighborhood, the intoxication of +the morning slept off by midday and renewed in the evening; the goes of +“vitriol” succeeded one another, becoming lost in the depths of the +night, like the Venetian lanterns of an illumination, until the last candle +disappeared with the last glass! That rogue of a hatter never kept on to the +end. He let the other get elevated, then gave him the slip and returned home +smiling in his pleasant way. He could drink a great deal without people +noticing it. When one got to know him well one could only tell it by his +half-closed eyes and his overbold behavior to women. The zinc-worker, on the +contrary, became quite disgusting, and could no longer drink without putting +himself into a beastly state. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, towards the beginning of November, Coupeau went in for a booze which +ended in a most dirty manner, both for himself and the others. The day before +he had been offered a job. This time Lantier was full of fine sentiments; he +lauded work, because work ennobles a man. In the morning he even rose before it +was light, for he gravely wished to accompany his friend to the workshop, +honoring in him the workman really worthy of the name. But when they arrived +before the “Little Civet,” which was just opening, they entered to +have a plum in brandy, only one, merely to drink together to the firm +observance of a good resolution. On a bench opposite the counter, and with his +back against the wall, Bibi-the-Smoker was sitting smoking with a sulky look on +his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo! Here’s Bibi having a snooze,” said Coupeau. +“Are you down in the dumps, old bloke?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” replied the comrade, stretching his arm. +“It’s the employers who disgust me. I sent mine to the right about +yesterday. They’re all toads and scoundrels.” +</p> + +<p> +Bibi-the-Smoker accepted a plum. He was, no doubt, waiting there on that bench +for someone to stand him a drink. Lantier, however, took the part of the +employers; they often had some very hard times, as he who had been in business +himself well knew. The workers were a bad lot, forever getting drunk! They +didn’t take their work seriously. Sometimes they quit in the middle of a +job and only returned when they needed something in their pockets. Then Lantier +would switch his attack to the employers. They were nasty exploiters, regular +cannibals. But he could sleep with a clear conscience as he had always acted as +a friend to his employees. He didn’t want to get rich the way others did. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s be off, my boy,” he said, speaking to Coupeau. +“We must be going or we shall be late.” +</p> + +<p> +Bibi-the-Smoker followed them, swinging his arms. Outside the sun was scarcely +rising, the pale daylight seemed dirtied by the muddy reflection of the +pavement; it had rained the night before and it was very mild. The gas lamps +had just been turned out; the Rue des Poissonniers, in which shreds of night +rent by the houses still floated, was gradually filling with the dull tramp of +the workmen descending towards Paris. Coupeau, with his zinc-worker’s bag +slung over his shoulder, walked along in the imposing manner of a fellow who +feels in good form for a change. He turned round and asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Bibi, do you want a job. The boss told me to bring a pal if I +could.” +</p> + +<p> +“No thanks,” answered Bibi-the-Smoker; “I’m purging +myself. You should ask My-Boots. He was looking for something yesterday. Wait a +minute. My-Boots is most likely in there.” +</p> + +<p> +And as they reached the bottom of the street they indeed caught sight of +My-Boots inside Pere Colombe’s. In spite of the early hour +l’Assommoir was flaring, the shutters down, the gas lighted. Lantier +stood at the door, telling Coupeau to make haste, because they had only ten +minutes left. +</p> + +<p> +“What! You’re going to work for that rascal Bourguignon?” +yelled My-Boots, when the zinc-worker had spoken to him. “You’ll +never catch me in his hutch again! No, I’d rather go till next year with +my tongue hanging out of my mouth. But, old fellow, you won’t stay three +days, and it’s I who tell you so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really now, is it such a dirty hole?” asked Coupeau anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s about the dirtiest. You can’t move there. The +ape’s for ever on your back. And such queer ways too—a missus who +always says you’re drunk, a shop where you mustn’t spit. I sent +them to the right about the first night, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good; now I’m warned. I shan’t stop there for ever. +I’ll just go this morning to see what it’s like; but if the boss +bothers me, I’ll catch him up and plant him upon his missus, you know, +bang together like two fillets of sole!” +</p> + +<p> +Then Coupeau thanked his friend for the useful information and shook his hand. +As he was about to leave, My-Boots cursed angrily. Was that lousy Bourguignon +going to stop them from having a drink? Weren’t they free any more? He +could well wait another five minutes. Lantier came in to share in the round and +they stood together at the counter. My-Boots, with his smock black with dirt +and his cap flattened on his head had recently been proclaimed king of pigs and +drunks after he had eaten a salad of live beetles and chewed a piece of a dead +cat. +</p> + +<p> +“Say there, old Borgia,” he called to Pere Colombe, “give us +some of your yellow stuff, first class mule’s wine.” +</p> + +<p> +And when Pere Colombe, pale and quiet in his blue-knitted waistcoat, had filled +the four glasses, these gentlemen tossed them off, so as not to let the liquor +get flat. +</p> + +<p> +“That does some good when it goes down,” murmured Bibi-the-Smoker. +</p> + +<p> +The comic My-Boots had a story to tell. He was so drunk on the Friday that his +comrades had stuck his pipe in his mouth with a handful of plaster. Anyone else +would have died of it; he merely strutted about and puffed out his chest. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you gentlemen require anything more?” asked Pere Colombe in his +oily voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, fill us up again,” said Lantier. “It’s my +turn.” +</p> + +<p> +Now they were talking of women. Bibi-the-Smoker had taken his girl to an +aunt’s at Montrouge on the previous Sunday. Coupeau asked for the news of +the “Indian Mail,” a washerwoman of Chaillot who was known in the +establishment. They were about to drink, when My-Boots loudly called to Goujet +and Lorilleux who were passing by. They came just to the door, but would not +enter. The blacksmith did not care to take anything. The chainmaker, pale and +shivering, held in his pocket the gold chains he was going to deliver; and he +coughed and asked them to excuse him, saying that the least drop of brandy +would nearly make him split his sides. +</p> + +<p> +“There are hypocrites for you!” grunted My-Boots. “I bet they +have their drinks on the sly.” +</p> + +<p> +And when he had poked his nose in his glass he attacked Pere Colombe. +</p> + +<p> +“Vile druggist, you’ve changed the bottle! You know it’s no +good your trying to palm your cheap stuff off on me.” +</p> + +<p> +The day had advanced; a doubtful sort of light lit up l’Assommoir, where +the landlord was turning out the gas. Coupeau found excuses for his +brother-in-law who could not stand drink, which after all was no crime. He even +approved Goujet’s behavior for it was a real blessing never to be +thirsty. And as he talked of going off to his work Lantier, with his grand air +of a gentleman, sharply gave him a lesson. One at least stood one’s turn +before sneaking off; one should not leave one’s friends like a mean +blackguard, even when going to do one’s duty. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he going to badger us much longer about his work?” cried +My-Boots. +</p> + +<p> +“So this is your turn, sir?” asked Pere Colombe of Coupeau. +</p> + +<p> +The latter paid. But when it came to Bibi-the-Smoker’s turn he whispered +to the landlord who refused with a shake of the head. My-Boots understood, and +again set to abusing the old Jew Colombe. What! A rascal like him dared to +behave in that way to a comrade! Everywhere else one could get drink on tick! +It was only in such low boozing-dens that one was insulted! The landlord +remained calm, leaning his big fists on the edge of the counter. He politely +said: +</p> + +<p> +“Lend the gentleman some money—that will be far simpler.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mon Dieu!</i> Yes, I’ll lend him some,” yelled My-Boots. +“Here! Bibi, throw this money in his face, the limb of Satan!” +</p> + +<p> +Then, excited and annoyed at seeing Coupeau with his bag slung over his +shoulder, he continued speaking to the zinc-worker: +</p> + +<p> +“You look like a wet-nurse. Drop your brat. It’ll give you a +hump-back.” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau hesitated an instant; and then, quietly, as though he had only made up +his mind after considerable reflection, he laid his bag on the ground saying: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s too late now. I’ll go to Bourguignon’s after +lunch. I’ll tell him that the missus was ill. Listen, Pere Colombe, +I’ll leave my tools under this seat and I’ll call for them at +twelve o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +Lantier gave his blessing to this arrangement with an approving nod. Labor was +necessary, yes, but when you’re with good friends, courtesy comes first. +Now the four had five hours of idleness before them. They were full of noisy +merriment. Coupeau was especially relieved. They had another round and then +went to a small bar that had a billiard table. +</p> + +<p> +At first Lantier turned up his nose at this establishment because it was rather +shabby. So much liquor had been spilled on the billiard table that the balls +stuck to it. Once the game got started though, Lantier recovered his good humor +and began to flaunt his extraordinary knack with a cue. +</p> + +<p> +When lunch time came Coupeau had an idea. He stamped his feet and cried: +</p> + +<p> +“We must go and fetch Salted-Mouth. I know where he’s working. +We’ll take him to Mere Louis’ to have some pettitoes.” +</p> + +<p> +The idea was greeted with acclamation. Yes, Salted-Mouth, otherwise +Drink-without-Thirst, was no doubt in want of some pettitoes. They started off. +Coupeau took them to the bolt factory in the Rue Marcadet. As they arrived a +good half hour before the time the workmen came out, the zinc-worker gave a +youngster two sous to go in and tell Salted-Mouth that his wife was ill and +wanted him at once. The blacksmith made his appearance, waddling in his walk, +looking very calm, and scenting a tuck-out. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you jokers!” said he, as soon as he caught sight of them +hiding in a doorway. “I guessed it. Well, what are we going to +eat?” +</p> + +<p> +At mother Louis’, whilst they sucked the little bones of the pettitoes, +they again fell to abusing the employers. Salted-Mouth, otherwise +Drink-without-Thirst, related that they had a most pressing order to execute at +the shop. Oh! the ape was pleasant for the time being. One could be late, and +he would say nothing; he no doubt considered himself lucky when one turned up +at all. At any rate, no boss would dare to throw Salted-Mouth out the door, +because you couldn’t find lads of his capacity any more. After the +pettitoes they had an omelet. When each of them had emptied his bottle, Mere +Louis brought out some Auvergne wine, thick enough to cut with a knife. The +party was really warming up. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think is the ape’s latest idea?” cried +Salted-Mouth at dessert. “Why, he’s been and put a bell up in his +shed! A bell! That’s good for slaves. Ah, well! It can ring to-day! They +won’t catch me again at the anvil! For five days past I’ve been +sticking there; I may give myself a rest now. If he deducts anything, +I’ll send him to blazes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I,” said Coupeau, with an air of importance, “I’m +obliged to leave you; I’m off to work. Yes, I promised my wife. Amuse +yourselves; my spirit you know remains with my pals.” +</p> + +<p> +The others chuffed him. But he seemed so decided that they all accompanied him +when he talked of going to fetch his tools from Pere Colombe’s. He took +his bag from under the seat and laid it on the ground before him whilst they +had a final drink. But at one o’clock the party was still standing +drinks. Then Coupeau, with a bored gesture placed the tools back again under +the seat. They were in his way; he could not get near the counter without +stumbling against them. It was too absurd; he would go to Bourguignon’s +on the morrow. The other four, who were quarrelling about the question of +salaries, were not at all surprised when the zinc-worker, without any +explanation, proposed a little stroll on the Boulevard, just to stretch their +legs. They didn’t go very far. They seemed to have nothing to say to each +other out in the fresh air. Without even consulting each other with so much as +a nudge, they slowly and instinctively ascended the Rue des Poissonniers, where +they went to Francois’s and had a glass of wine out of the bottle. +Lantier pushed his comrades inside the private room at the back; it was a +narrow place with only one table in it, and was separated from the shop by a +dull glazed partition. He liked to do his drinking in private rooms because it +seemed more respectable. Didn’t they like it here? It was as comfortable +as being at home. You could even take a nap here without being embarrassed. He +called for the newspaper, spread it out open before him, and looked through it, +frowning the while. Coupeau and My-Boots had commenced a game of piquet. Two +bottles of wine and five glasses were scattered about the table. +</p> + +<p> +They emptied their glasses. Then Lantier read out loud: +</p> + +<p> +“A frightful crime has just spread consternation throughout the Commune +of Gaillon, Department of Seine-et-Marne. A son has killed his father with +blows from a spade in order to rob him of thirty sous.” +</p> + +<p> +They all uttered a cry of horror. There was a fellow whom they would have taken +great pleasure in seeing guillotined! No, the guillotine was not enough; he +deserved to be cut into little pieces. The story of an infanticide equally +aroused their indignation; but the hatter, highly moral, found excuses for the +woman, putting all the wrong on the back of her husband; for after all, if some +beast of a man had not put the wretched woman into the way of bleak poverty, +she could not have drowned it in a water closet. +</p> + +<p> +They were most delighted though by the exploit of a Marquis who, coming out of +a dance hall at two in the morning, had defended himself against an attack by +three blackguards on the Boulevard des Invalides. Without taking off his +gloves, he had disposed of the first two villains by ramming his head into +their stomachs, and then had marched the third one off to the police. What a +man! Too bad he was a noble. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen to this now,” continued Lantier. “Here’s some +society news: ‘A marriage is arranged between the eldest daughter of the +Countess de Bretigny and the young Baron de Valancay, aide-de-camp to His +Majesty. The wedding trousseau will contain more than three hundred thousand +francs’ worth of lace.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that to us?” interrupted Bibi-the-Smoker. “We +don’t want to know the color of her mantle. The girl can have no end of +lace; nevertheless she’ll see the folly of loving.” +</p> + +<p> +As Lantier seemed about to continue his reading, Salted-Mouth, otherwise +Drink-without-Thirst, took the newspaper from him and sat upon it, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! no, that’s enough! This is all the paper is good for.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, My-Boots, who had been looking at his hand, triumphantly banged his +fist down on the table. He scored ninety-three. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got the Revolution!” he exulted. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re out of luck, comrade,” the others told Coupeau. +</p> + +<p> +They ordered two fresh bottles. The glasses were filled up again as fast as +they were emptied, the booze increased. Towards five o’clock it began to +get disgusting, so much so that Lantier kept very quiet, thinking of how to +give the others the slip; brawling and throwing the wine about was no longer +his style. Just then Coupeau stood up to make the drunkard’s sign of the +cross. Touching his head he pronounced Montpernasse, then Menilmonte as he +brought his hand to his right shoulder, Bagnolet giving himself a blow in the +chest, and wound up by saying stewed rabbit three times as he hit himself in +the pit of the stomach. Then the hatter took advantage of the clamor which +greeted the performance of this feat and quietly made for the door. His +comrades did not even notice his departure. He had already had a pretty good +dose. But once outside he shook himself and regained his self-possession; and +he quietly made for the shop, where he told Gervaise that Coupeau was with some +friends. +</p> + +<p> +Two days passed by. The zinc-worker had not returned. He was reeling about the +neighborhood, but no one knew exactly where. Several persons, however, stated +that they had seen him at mother Baquet’s, at the +“Butterfly,” and at the “Little Old Man with a Cough.” +Only some said that he was alone, whilst others affirmed that he was in the +company of seven or eight drunkards like himself. Gervaise shrugged her +shoulders in a resigned sort of way. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> She just had to get used +to it. She never ran about after her old man; she even went out of her way if +she caught sight of him inside a wineshop, so as to not anger him; and she +waited at home till he returned, listening at night-time to hear if he was +snoring outside the door. He would sleep on a rubbish heap, or on a seat, or in +a piece of waste land, or across a gutter. On the morrow, after having only +badly slept off his booze of the day before, he would start off again, knocking +at the doors of all the consolation dealers, plunging afresh into a furious +wandering, in the midst of nips of spirits, glasses of wine, losing his friends +and then finding them again, going regular voyages from which he returned in a +state of stupor, seeing the streets dance, the night fall and the day break, +without any other thought than to drink and sleep off the effects wherever he +happened to be. When in the latter state, the world was ended so far as he was +concerned. On the second day, however, Gervaise went to Pere Colombe’s +l’Assommoir to find out something about him; he had been there another +five times, they were unable to tell her anything more. All she could do was to +take away his tools which he had left under a seat. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening Lantier, seeing that the laundress seemed very worried, offered +to take her to a music-hall, just by way of passing a pleasant hour or two. She +refused at first, she was in no mood for laughing. Otherwise she would not have +said, “No,” for the hatter made the proposal in too straightforward +a manner for her to feel any mistrust. He seemed to feel for her in quite a +paternal way. Never before had Coupeau slept out two nights running. So that in +spite of herself, she would go every ten minutes to the door, with her iron in +her hand, and look up and down the street to see if her old man was coming. +</p> + +<p> +It might be that Coupeau had broken a leg, or fallen under a wagon and been +crushed and that might be good riddance to bad rubbish. She saw no reason for +cherishing in her heart any affection for a filthy character like him, but it +was irritating, all the same, to have to wonder every night whether he would +come in or not. When it got dark, Lantier again suggested the music-hall, and +this time she accepted. She decided it would be silly to deny herself a little +pleasure when her husband had been out on the town for three days. If he +wasn’t coming in, then she might as well go out herself. Let the entire +dump burn up if it felt like it. She might even put a torch to it herself. She +was getting tired of the boring monotony of her present life. +</p> + +<p> +They ate their dinner quickly. Then, when she went off at eight o’clock, +arm-in-arm with the hatter, Gervaise told mother Coupeau and Nana to go to bed +at once. The shop was shut and the shutters up. She left by the door opening +into the courtyard and gave Madame Boche the key, asking her, if her pig of a +husband came home, to have the kindness to put him to bed. The hatter was +waiting for her under the big doorway, arrayed in his best and whistling a +tune. She had on her silk dress. They walked slowly along the pavement, keeping +close to each other, lighted up by the glare from the shop windows which showed +them smiling and talking together in low voices. +</p> + +<p> +The music-hall was in the Boulevard de Rochechouart. It had originally been a +little cafe and had been enlarged by means of a kind of wooden shed erected in +the courtyard. At the door a string of glass globes formed a luminous porch. +Tall posters pasted on boards stood upon the ground, close to the gutter. +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are,” said Lantier. “To-night, first appearance of +Mademoiselle Amanda, serio-comic.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he caught sight of Bibi-the-Smoker, who was also reading the poster. Bibi +had a black eye; some punch he had run up against the day before. +</p> + +<p> +“Well! Where’s Coupeau?” inquired the hatter, looking about. +“Have you, then, lost Coupeau?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! long ago, since yesterday,” replied the other. “There +was a bit of a free-for-all on leaving mother Baquet’s. I don’t +care for fisticuffs. We had a row, you know, with mother Baquet’s +pot-boy, because he wanted to make us pay for a quart twice over. Then I left. +I went and had a bit of a snooze.” +</p> + +<p> +He was still yawning; he had slept eighteen hours at a stretch. He was, +moreover, quite sobered, with a stupid look on his face, and his jacket +smothered with fluff; for he had no doubt tumbled into bed with his clothes on. +</p> + +<p> +“And you don’t know where my husband is, sir?” asked the +laundress. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, no, not a bit. It was five o’clock when we left mother +Baquet’s. That’s all I know about it. Perhaps he went down the +street. Yes, I fancy now that I saw him go to the ‘Butterfly’ with +a coachman. Oh! how stupid it is! Really, we deserve to be shot.” +</p> + +<p> +Lantier and Gervaise spent a very pleasant evening at the music-hall. At eleven +o’clock when the place closed, they strolled home without hurrying +themselves. The cold was quite sharp. People seemed to be in groups. Some of +the girls were giggling in the darkness as their men pressed close to them. +Lantier was humming one of Mademoiselle Amanda’s songs. Gervaise, with +her head spinning from too much drink, hummed the refrain with him. It had been +very warm at the music-hall and the two drinks she had had, along with all the +smoke, had upset her stomach a bit. She had been quite impressed with +Mademoiselle Amanda. She wouldn’t dare to appear in public wearing so +little, but she had to admit that the lady had lovely skin. +</p> + +<p> +“Everyone’s asleep,” said Gervaise, after ringing three times +without the Boches opening the door. +</p> + +<p> +At length the door opened, but inside the porch it was very dark, and when she +knocked at the window of the concierge’s room to ask for her key, the +concierge, who was half asleep, pulled out some rigmarole which she could make +nothing of at first. She eventually understood that Poisson, the policeman, had +brought Coupeau home in a frightful state, and that the key was no doubt in the +lock. +</p> + +<p> +“The deuce!” murmured Lantier, when they had entered, +“whatever has he been up to here? The stench is abominable.” +</p> + +<p> +There was indeed a most powerful stench. As Gervaise went to look for matches, +she stepped into something messy. After she succeeded in lighting a candle, a +pretty sight met their eyes. Coupeau appeared to have disgorged his very +insides. The bed was splattered all over, so was the carpet, and even the +bureau had splashes on its sides. Besides that, he had fallen from the bed +where Poisson had probably thrown him, and was snoring on the floor in the +midst of the filth like a pig wallowing in the mire, exhaling his foul breath +through his open mouth. His grey hair was straggling into the puddle around his +head. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! the pig! the pig!” repeated Gervaise, indignant and +exasperated. “He’s dirtied everything. No, a dog wouldn’t +have done that, even a dead dog is cleaner.” +</p> + +<p> +They both hesitated to move, not knowing where to place their feet. Coupeau had +never before come home and put the bedroom into such a shocking state. This +sight was a blow to whatever affection his wife still had for him. Previously +she had been forgiving and not seriously offended, even when he had been blind +drunk. But this made her sick; it was too much. She wouldn’t have touched +Coupeau for the world, and just the thought of this filthy bum touching her +caused a repugnance such as she might have felt had she been required to sleep +beside the corpse of someone who had died from a terrible disease. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I must get into that bed,” murmured she. “I can’t +go and sleep in the street. Oh! I’ll crawl into it foot first.” +</p> + +<p> +She tried to step over the drunkard, but had to catch hold of a corner of the +chest of drawers to save herself from slipping in the mess. Coupeau completely +blocked the way to the bed. Then, Lantier, who laughed to himself on seeing +that she certainly could not sleep on her own pillow that night, took hold of +her hand, saying, in a low and angry voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Gervaise, he is a pig.” +</p> + +<p> +She understood what he meant and pulled her hand free. She sighed to herself, +and, in her bewilderment, addressed him familiarly, as in the old days. +</p> + +<p> +“No, leave me alone, Auguste. Go to your own bed. I’ll manage +somehow to lie at the foot of the bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Gervaise, don’t be foolish,” resumed he. +“It’s too abominable; you can’t remain here. Come with me. He +won’t hear us. What are you afraid of?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she replied firmly, shaking her head vigorously. Then, to +show that she would remain where she was, she began to take off her clothes, +throwing her silk dress over a chair. She was quickly in only her chemise and +petticoat. Well, it was her own bed. She wanted to sleep in her own bed and +made two more attempts to reach a clean corner of the bed. +</p> + +<p> +Lantier, having no intention of giving up, whispered things to her. +</p> + +<p> +What a predicament she was in, with a louse of a husband that prevented her +from crawling under her own blankets and a low skunk behind her just waiting to +take advantage of the situation to possess her again. She begged Lantier to be +quiet. Turning toward the small room where Nana and mother Coupeau slept, she +listened anxiously. She could hear only steady breathing. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave me alone, Auguste,” she repeated. “You’ll wake +them. Be sensible.” +</p> + +<p> +Lantier didn’t answer, but just smiled at her. Then he began to kiss her +on the ear just as in the old days. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise felt like sobbing. Her strength deserted her; she felt a great buzzing +in her ears, a violent tremor passed through her. She advanced another step +forward. And she was again obliged to draw back. It was not possible, the +disgust was too great. She felt on the verge of vomiting herself. Coupeau, +overpowered by intoxication, lying as comfortably as though on a bed of down, +was sleeping off his booze, without life in his limbs, and with his mouth all +on one side. The whole street might have entered and laughed at him, without a +hair of his body moving. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I can’t help it,” she faltered. “It’s his +own fault. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> He’s forcing me out of my own bed. I’ve +no bed any longer. No, I can’t help it. It’s his own fault.” +</p> + +<p> +She was trembling so she scarcely knew what she was doing. While Lantier was +urging her into his room, Nana’s face appeared at one of the glass panes +in the door of the little room. The young girl, pale from sleep, had awakened +and gotten out of bed quietly. She stared at her father lying in his vomit. +Then, she stood watching until her mother disappeared into Lantier’s +room. She watched with the intensity and the wide-open eyes of a vicious child +aflame with curiosity. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"></a> +CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p> +That winter mother Coupeau nearly went off in one of her coughing fits. Each +December she could count on her asthma keeping her on her back for two and +three weeks at a time. She was no longer fifteen, she would be seventy-three on +Saint-Anthony’s day. With that she was very rickety, getting a rattling +in her throat for nothing at all, though she was plump and stout. The doctor +said she would go off coughing, just time enough to say: “Good-night, the +candle’s out!” +</p> + +<p> +When she was in her bed mother Coupeau became positively unbearable. It is true +though that the little room in which she slept with Nana was not at all gay. +There was barely room for two chairs between the beds. The wallpaper, a faded +gray, hung loose in long strips. The small window near the ceiling let in only +a dim light. It was like a cavern. At night, as she lay awake, she could listen +to the breathing of the sleeping Nana as a sort of distraction; but in the +day-time, as there was no one to keep her company from morning to night, she +grumbled and cried and repeated to herself for hours together, as she rolled +her head on the pillow: +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens! What a miserable creature I am! Good heavens! What a +miserable creature I am! They’ll leave me to die in prison, yes, in +prison!” +</p> + +<p> +As soon as anyone called, Virginie or Madame Boche, to ask after her health, +she would not reply directly, but immediately started on her list of +complaints: “Oh, I pay dearly for the food I eat here. I’d be much +better off with strangers. I asked for a cup of tisane and they brought me an +entire pot of hot water. It was a way of saying that I drank too much. I +brought Nana up myself and she scurries away in her bare feet every morning and +I never see her again all day. Then at night she sleeps so soundly that she +never wakes up to ask me if I’m in pain. I’m just a nuisance to +them. They’re waiting for me to die. That will happen soon enough. I +don’t even have a son any more; that laundress has taken him from me. +She’d beat me to death if she wasn’t afraid of the law.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was indeed rather hasty at times. The place was going to the dogs, +everyone’s temper was getting spoilt and they sent each other to the +right about for the least word. Coupeau, one morning that he had a hangover, +exclaimed: “The old thing’s always saying she’s going to die, +and yet she never does!” The words struck mother Coupeau to the heart. +They frequently complained of how much she cost them, observing that they would +save a lot of money when she was gone. +</p> + +<p> +When at her worst that winter, one afternoon, when Madame Lorilleux and Madame +Lerat had met at her bedside, mother Coupeau winked her eye as a signal to them +to lean over her. She could scarcely speak. She rather hissed than said in a +low voice: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s becoming indecent. I heard them last night. Yes, Clump-clump +and the hatter. And they were kicking up such a row together! Coupeau’s +too decent for her.” +</p> + +<p> +And she related in short sentences, coughing and choking between each, that her +son had come home dead drunk the night before. Then, as she was not asleep, she +was easily able to account for all the noises, of Clump-clump’s bare feet +tripping over the tiled floor, the hissing voice of the hatter calling her, the +door between the two rooms gently closed, and the rest. It must have lasted +till daylight. She could not tell the exact time, because, in spite of her +efforts, she had ended by falling into a dose. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s most disgusting is that Nana might have heard +everything,” continued she. “She was indeed restless all the night, +she who usually sleeps so sound. She tossed about and kept turning over as +though there had been some lighted charcoal in her bed.” +</p> + +<p> +The other two women did not seem at all surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course!” murmured Madame Lorilleux, “it probably began +the very first night. But as it pleases Coupeau, we’ve no business to +interfere. All the same, it’s not very respectable.” +</p> + +<p> +“As for me,” declared Madame Lerat through clenched teeth, +“if I’d been there, I’d have thrown a fright into them. +I’d have shouted something, anything. A doctor’s maid told me once +that the doctor had told her that a surprise like that, at a certain moment, +could strike a woman dead. If she had died right there, that would have been +well, wouldn’t it? She would have been punished right where she had +sinned.” +</p> + +<p> +It wasn’t long until the entire neighborhood knew that Gervaise visited +Lantier’s room every night. Madame Lorilleux was loudly indignant, +calling her brother a poor fool whose wife had shamed him. And her poor mother, +forced to live in the midst of such horrors. As a result, the neighbors blamed +Gervaise. Yes, she must have led Lantier astray; you could see it in her eyes. +In spite of the nasty gossip, Lantier was still liked because he was always so +polite. He always had candy or flowers to give the ladies. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> Men +shouldn’t be expected to push away women who threw themselves at them. +There was no excuse for Gervaise. She was a disgrace. The Lorilleuxs used to +bring Nana up to their apartment in order to find out more details from her, +their godchild. But Nana would put on her expression of innocent stupidity and +lower her long silky eyelashes to hide the fire in her eyes as she replied. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of this general indignation, Gervaise lived quietly on, feeling +tired out and half asleep. At first she considered herself very sinful and felt +a disgust for herself. When she left Lantier’s room she would wash her +hands and scrub herself as if trying to get rid of an evil stain. If Coupeau +then tried to joke with her, she would fly into a passion, and run and +shiveringly dress herself in the farthest corner of the shop; neither would she +allow Lantier near her soon after her husband had kissed her. She would have +liked to have changed her skin as she changed men. But she gradually became +accustomed to it. Soon it was too much trouble to scrub herself each time. Her +thirst for happiness led her to enjoy as much as she could the difficult +situation. She had always been disposed to make allowances for herself, so why +not for others? She only wanted to avoid causing trouble. As long as the +household went along as usual, there was nothing to complain about. +</p> + +<p> +Then, after all, she could not be doing anything to make Coupeau stop drinking; +matters were arranged so easily to the general satisfaction. One is generally +punished if one does what is not right. His dissoluteness had gradually become +a habit. Now it was as regular an affair as eating and drinking. Each time +Coupeau came home drunk, she would go to Lantier’s room. This was usually +on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Sometimes on other nights, if Coupeau was +snoring too loudly, she would leave in the middle of the night. It was not that +she cared more for Lantier, but just that she slept better in his room. +</p> + +<p> +Mother Coupeau never dared speak openly of it. But after a quarrel, when the +laundress had bullied her, the old woman was not sparing in her allusions. She +would say that she knew men who were precious fools and women who were precious +hussies, and she would mutter words far more biting, with the sharpness of +language pertaining to an old waistcoat-maker. The first time this had occurred +Gervaise looked at her straight in the face without answering. Then, also +avoiding going into details, she began to defend herself with reasons given in +a general sort of way. When a woman had a drunkard for a husband, a pig who +lived in filth, that woman was to be excused if she sought for cleanliness +elsewhere. Once she pointed out that Lantier was just as much her husband as +Coupeau was. Hadn’t she known him since she was fourteen and didn’t +she have children by him? +</p> + +<p> +Anyway, she’d like to see anyone make trouble for her. She wasn’t +the only one around the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or. Madame Vigouroux, the +coal-dealer had a merry dance from morning to night. Then there was the +grocer’s wife, Madame Lehongre with her brother-in-law. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> +What a slob of a fellow. He wasn’t worth touching with a shovel. Even the +neat little clockmaker was said to have carried on with his own daughter, a +streetwalker. Ah, the entire neighborhood. Oh, she knew plenty of dirt. +</p> + +<p> +One day when mother Coupeau was more pointed than usual in her observations, +Gervaise had replied to her, clinching her teeth: +</p> + +<p> +“You’re confined to your bed and you take advantage of it. Listen! +You’re wrong. You see that I behave nicely to you, for I’ve never +thrown your past life into your teeth. Oh! I know all about it. No, don’t +cough. I’ve finished what I had to say. It’s only to request you to +mind your own business, that’s all!” +</p> + +<p> +The old woman almost choked. On the morrow, Goujet having called about his +mother’s washing when Gervaise happened to be out, mother Coupeau called +him to her and kept him some time seated beside her bed. She knew all about the +blacksmith’s friendship, and had noticed that for some time past he had +looked dismal and wretched, from a suspicion of the melancholy things that were +taking place. So, for the sake of gossiping, and out of revenge for the quarrel +of the day before, she bluntly told him the truth, weeping and complaining as +though Gervaise’s wicked behavior did her some special injury. When +Goujet quitted the little room, he leant against the wall, almost stifling with +grief. Then, when the laundress returned home, mother Coupeau called to her +that Madame Goujet required her to go round with her clothes, ironed or not; +and she was so animated that Gervaise, seeing something was wrong, guessed what +had taken place and had a presentiment of the unpleasantness which awaited her. +</p> + +<p> +Very pale, her limbs already trembling, she placed the things in a basket and +started off. For years past she had not returned the Goujets a sou of their +money. The debt still amounted to four hundred and twenty-five francs. She +always spoke of her embarrassments and received the money for the washing. It +filled her with shame, because she seemed to be taking advantage of the +blacksmith’s friendship to make a fool of him. Coupeau, who had now +become less scrupulous, would chuckle and say that Goujet no doubt had fooled +around with her a bit, and had so paid himself. But she, in spite of the +relations she had fallen into with Coupeau, would indignantly ask her husband +if he already wished to eat of that sort of bread. She would not allow anyone +to say a word against Goujet in her presence; her affection for the blacksmith +remained like a last shred of her honor. Thus, every time she took the washing +home to those worthy people, she felt a spasm of her heart the moment she put a +foot on their stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! it’s you, at last!” said Madame Goujet sharply, on +opening the door to her. “When I’m in want of death, I’ll +send you to fetch him.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise entered, greatly embarrassed, not even daring to mutter an excuse. She +was no longer punctual, never came at the time arranged, and would keep her +customers waiting for days on end. Little by little she was giving way to a +system of thorough disorder. +</p> + +<p> +“For a week past I’ve been expecting you,” continued the +lace-mender. “And you tell falsehoods too; you send your apprentice to me +with all sorts of stories; you are then busy with my things, you will deliver +them the same evening, or else you’ve had an accident, the bundle’s +fallen into a pail of water. Whilst all this is going on, I waste my time, +nothing turns up, and it worries me exceedingly. No, you’re most +unreasonable. Come, what have you in your basket? Is everything there now? Have +you brought me the pair of sheets you’ve been keeping back for a month +past, and the chemise which was missing the last time you brought home the +washing?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” murmured Gervaise, “I have the chemise. Here it +is.” +</p> + +<p> +But Madame Goujet cried out. That chemise was not hers, she would have nothing +to do with it. Her things were changed now; it was too bad! Only the week +before, there were two handkerchiefs which hadn’t her mark on them. It +was not to her taste to have clothes coming from no one knew where. Besides +that, she liked to have her own things. +</p> + +<p> +“And the sheets?” she resumed. “They’re lost, +aren’t they? Well! Woman, you must see about them, for I insist upon +having them to-morrow morning, do you hear?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a silence which particularly bothered Gervaise when she noticed that +the door to Goujet’s room was open. If he was in there, it was most +annoying that he should hear these just criticisms. She made no reply, meekly +bowing her head, and placing the laundry on the bed as quickly as possible. +</p> + +<p> +Matters became worse when Madame Goujet began to look over the things, one by +one. She took hold of them and threw them down again saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you don’t get them up nearly so well as you used to do. One +can’t compliment you every day now. Yes, you’ve taken to mucking +your work—doing it in a most slovenly way. Just look at this shirt-front, +it’s scorched, there’s the mark of the iron on the plaits; and the +buttons have all been torn off. I don’t know how you manage it, but +there’s never a button left on anything. Oh! now, here’s a +petticoat body which I shall certainly not pay you for. Look there! The +dirt’s still on it, you’ve simply smoothed it over. So now the +things are not even clean!” +</p> + +<p> +She stopped whilst she counted the different articles. Then she exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“What! This is all you’ve brought? There are two pairs of +stockings, six towels, a table-cloth, and several dish-cloths short. +You’re regularly trifling with me, it seems! I sent word that you were to +bring me everything, ironed or not. If your apprentice isn’t here on the +hour with the rest of the things, we shall fall out, Madame Coupeau, I warn +you.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Goujet coughed in his room. Gervaise slightly started. <i>Mon +Dieu!</i> How she was treated before him. And she remained standing in the +middle of the rooms, embarrassed and confused and waiting for the dirty +clothes; but after making up the account Madame Goujet had quietly returned to +her seat near the window, and resumed the mending of a lace shawl. +</p> + +<p> +“And the dirty things?” timidly inquired the laundress. +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you,” replied the old woman, “there will be no +laundry this week.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise turned pale. She was no longer to have the washing. Then she quite +lost her head; she was obliged to sit down on a chair, for her legs were giving +way under her. She did not attempt to vindicate herself. All that she would +find to say was: +</p> + +<p> +“Is Monsieur Goujet ill?” +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he was not well. He had been obliged to come home instead of returning to +the forge, and he had gone to lie down on his bed to get a rest. Madame Goujet +talked gravely, wearing her black dress as usual and her white face framed in +her nun-like coif. The pay at the forge had been cut again. It was now only +seven francs a day because the machines did so much of the work. This forced +her to save money every way she could. She would do her own washing from now +on. It would naturally have been very helpful if the Coupeaus had been able to +return her the money lent them by her son; but she was not going to set the +lawyers on them, as they were unable to pay. As she was talking about the debt, +Gervaise lowered her eyes in embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +“All the same,” continued the lace-maker, “by pinching +yourselves a little you could manage to pay it off. For really now, you live +very well; and spend a great deal, I’m sure. If you were only to pay off +ten francs a month—” +</p> + +<p> +She was interrupted by the sound of Goujet’s voice as he called: +</p> + +<p> +“Mamma! Mamma!” +</p> + +<p> +And when she returned to her seat, which was almost immediately, she changed +the conversation. The blacksmith had doubtless begged her not to ask Gervaise +for money; but in spite of herself she again spoke of the debt at the +expiration of five minutes. Oh! She had foreseen long ago what was now +happening. Coupeau was drinking all that the laundry business brought in and +dragging his wife down with him. Her son would never have loaned the money if +he had only listened to her. By now he would have been married, instead of +miserably sad with only unhappiness to look forward to for the rest of his +life. She grew quite stern and angry, even accusing Gervaise of having schemed +with Coupeau to take advantage of her foolish son. Yes, some women were able to +play the hypocrite for years, but eventually the truth came out. +</p> + +<p> +“Mamma! Mamma!” again called Goujet, but louder this time. +</p> + +<p> +She rose from her seat and when she returned she said, as she resumed her lace +mending: +</p> + +<p> +“Go in, he wishes to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, all in a tremble left the door open. This scene filled her with +emotion because it was like an avowal of their affection before Madame Goujet. +She again beheld the quiet little chamber, with its narrow iron bedstead, and +papered all over with pictures, the whole looking like the room of some girl of +fifteen. Goujet’s big body was stretched on the bed. Mother +Coupeau’s disclosures and the things his mother had been saying seemed to +have knocked all the life out of his limbs. His eyes were red and swollen, his +beautiful yellow beard was still wet. In the first moment of rage he must have +punched away at his pillow with his terrible fists, for the ticking was split +and the feathers were coming out. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, mamma’s wrong,” said he to the laundress in a voice +that was scarcely audible. “You owe me nothing. I won’t have it +mentioned again.” +</p> + +<p> +He had raised himself up and was looking at her. Big tears at once filled his +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you suffer, Monsieur Goujet?” murmured she. “What is the +matter with you? Tell me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, thanks. I tired myself with too much work yesterday. I will +rest a bit.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, his heart breaking, he could not restrain himself and burst out: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mon Dieu!</i> Ah! <i>Mon Dieu!</i> It was never to be—never. +You swore it. And now it is—it is! Ah, it pains me too much, leave +me!” +</p> + +<p> +And with his hand he gently and imploringly motioned to her to go. She did not +draw nearer to the bed. She went off as he requested her to, feeling stupid, +unable to say anything to soothe him. When in the other room she took up her +basket; but she did not go home. She stood there trying to find something to +say. Madame Goujet continued her mending without raising her head. It was she +who at length said: +</p> + +<p> +“Well! Good-night; send me back my things and we will settle up +afterwards.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it will be best so—good-night,” stammered Gervaise. +</p> + +<p> +She took a last look around the neatly arranged room and thought as she shut +the door that she seemed to be leaving some part of her better self behind. She +plodded blindly back to the laundry, scarcely knowing where she was going. +</p> + +<p> +When Gervaise arrived, she found mother Coupeau out of her bed, sitting on a +chair by the stove. Gervaise was too tired to scold her. Her bones ached as +though she had been beaten and she was thinking that her life was becoming too +hard to bear. Surely a quick death was the only escape from the pain in her +heart. +</p> + +<p> +After this, Gervaise became indifferent to everything. With a vague gesture of +her hand she would send everybody about their business. At each fresh worry she +buried herself deeper in her only pleasure, which was to have her three meals a +day. The shop might have collapsed. So long as she was not beneath it, she +would have gone off willingly without a chemise to her back. And the little +shop was collapsing, not suddenly, but little by little, morning and evening. +One by one the customers got angry, and sent their washing elsewhere. Monsieur +Madinier, Mademoiselle Remanjou, the Boches themselves had returned to Madame +Fauconnier, where they could count on great punctuality. One ends by getting +tired of asking for a pair of stockings for three weeks straight, and of +putting on shirts with grease stains dating from the previous Sunday. Gervaise, +without losing a bite, wished them a pleasant journey, and spoke her mind about +them, saying that she was precious glad she would no longer have to poke her +nose into their filth. The entire neighborhood could quit her; that would +relieve her of the piles of stinking junk and give her less work to do. +</p> + +<p> +Now her only customers were those who didn’t pay regularly, the +street-walkers, and women like Madame Gaudron, whose laundry smelled so bad +that not one of the laundresses on the Rue Neuve would take it. She had to let +Madame Putois go, leaving only her apprentice, squint-eyed Augustine, who +seemed to grow more stupid as time passed. Frequently there was not even enough +work for the two of them and they sat on stools all afternoon doing nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst idleness and poverty entered, dirtiness naturally entered also. One +would never have recognised that beautiful blue shop, the color of heaven, +which had once been Gervaise’s pride. Its window-frames and panes, which +were never washed, were covered from top to bottom with the splashes of the +passing vehicles. On the brass rods in the windows were displayed three grey +rags left by customers who had died in the hospital. And inside it was more +pitiable still; the dampness of the clothes hung up at the ceiling to dry had +loosed all the wallpaper; the Pompadour chintz hung in strips like cobwebs +covered with dust; the big stove, broken and in holes from the rough use of the +poker, looked in its corner like the stock in trade of a dealer in old iron; +the work-table appeared as though it had been used by a regiment, covered as it +was with wine and coffee stains, sticky with jam, greasy from spilled gravy. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was so at ease among it all that she never even noticed the shop was +getting filthy. She became used to it all, just as she got used to wearing torn +skirts and no longer washing herself carefully. The disorder was like a warm +nest. +</p> + +<p> +Her own ease was her sole consideration; she did not care a pin for anything +else. The debts, though still increasing, no longer troubled her. Her honesty +gradually deserted her; whether she would be able to pay or not was altogether +uncertain, and she preferred not to think about it. When her credit was stopped +at one shop, she would open an account at some other shop close by. She was in +debt all over the neighborhood, she owed money every few yards. To take merely +the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or, she no longer dared pass in front of the +grocer’s, nor the charcoal-dealer’s, nor the greengrocer’s; +and this obliged her, whenever she required to be at the wash-house, to go +round by the Rue des Poissonniers, which was quite ten minutes out of her way. +The tradespeople came and treated her as a swindler. One evening the dealer +from whom she had purchased Lantier’s furniture made a scene in the +street. Scenes like this upset her at the time, but were soon forgotten and +never spoiled her appetite. What a nerve to bother her like that when she had +no money to pay. They were all robbers anyway and it served them right to have +to wait. Well, she’d have to go bankrupt, but she didn’t intend to +fret about it now. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile mother Coupeau had recovered. For another year the household jogged +along. During the summer months there was naturally a little more +work—the white petticoats and the cambric dresses of the street-walkers +of the exterior Boulevard. The catastrophe was slowly approaching; the home +sank deeper into the mire every week; there were ups and downs, +however—days when one had to rub one’s stomach before the empty +cupboard, and others when one ate veal enough to make one burst. Mother Coupeau +was for ever being seen in the street, hiding bundles under her apron, and +strolling in the direction of the pawn-place in the Rue Polonceau. She strutted +along with the air of a devotee going to mass; for she did not dislike these +errands; haggling about money amused her; this crying up of her wares like a +second-hand dealer tickled the old woman’s fancy for driving hard +bargains. The clerks knew her well and called her “Mamma Four +Francs,” because she always demanded four francs when they offered three, +on bundles no bigger than two sous’ worth of butter. +</p> + +<p> +At the start, Gervaise took advantage of good weeks to get things back from the +pawn-shops, only to put them back again the next week. Later she let things go +altogether, selling her pawn tickets for cash. +</p> + +<p> +One thing alone gave Gervaise a pang—it was having to pawn her clock to +pay an acceptance for twenty francs to a bailiff who came to seize her goods. +Until then, she had sworn rather to die of hunger than to part with her clock. +When mother Coupeau carried it away in a little bonnet-box, she sunk on to a +chair, without a particle of strength left in her arms, her eyes full of tears, +as though a fortune was being torn from her. But when mother Coupeau reappeared +with twenty-five francs, the unexpected loan, the five francs profit consoled +her; she at once sent the old woman out again for four sous’ worth of +brandy in a glass, just to toast the five-franc piece. +</p> + +<p> +The two of them would often have a drop together, when they were on good terms +with each other. Mother Coupeau was very successful at bringing back a full +glass hidden in her apron pocket without spilling a drop. Well, the neighbors +didn’t need to know, did they. But the neighbors knew perfectly well. +This turned the neighborhood even more against Gervaise. She was devouring +everything; a few more mouthfuls and the place would be swept clean. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of this general demolishment, Coupeau continued to prosper. The +confounded tippler was as well as well could be. The sour wine and the +“vitriol” positively fattened him. He ate a great deal, and laughed +at that stick Lorilleux, who accused drink of killing people, and answered him +by slapping himself on the stomach, the skin of which was so stretched by the +fat that it resembled the skin of a drum. He would play him a tune on it, the +glutton’s vespers, with rolls and beats loud enough to have made a +quack’s fortune. Lorilleux, annoyed at not having any fat himself, said +that it was soft and unhealthy. Coupeau ignored him and went on drinking more +and more, saying it was for his health’s sake. +</p> + +<p> +His hair was beginning to turn grey and his face to take on the +drunkard’s hue of purplish wine. He continued to act like a mischievous +child. Well, it wasn’t his concern if there was nothing about the place +to eat. When he went for weeks without work he became even more difficult. +</p> + +<p> +Still, he was always giving Lantier friendly slaps on the back. People swore he +had no suspicion at all. Surely something terrible would happen if he ever +found out. Madame Lerat shook her head at this. His sister said she had known +of husbands who didn’t mind at all. +</p> + +<p> +Lantier wasn’t wasting away either. He took great care of himself, +measuring his stomach by the waist-band of his trousers, with the constant +dread of having to loosen the buckle or draw it tighter; for he considered +himself just right, and out of coquetry neither desired to grow fatter nor +thinner. That made him hard to please in the matter of food, for he regarded +every dish from the point of view of keeping his waist as it was. Even when +there was not a sou in the house, he required eggs, cutlets, light and +nourishing things. Since he was sharing the lady of the house, he considered +himself to have a half interest in everything and would pocket any franc pieces +he saw lying about. He kept Gervaise running here and there and seemed more at +home than Coupeau. Nana was his favorite because he adored pretty little girls, +but he paid less and less attention to Etienne, since boys, according to him, +ought to know how to take care of themselves. If anyone came to see Coupeau +while he was out, Lantier, in shirt sleeves and slippers, would come out of the +back room with the bored expression of a husband who has been disturbed, saying +he would answer for Coupeau as it was all the same. +</p> + +<p> +Between these two gentlemen, Gervaise had nothing to laugh about. She had +nothing to complain of as regards her health, thank goodness! She was growing +too fat. But two men to coddle was often more than she could manage. Ah! <i>Mon +Dieu!</i> one husband is already too much for a woman! The worst was that they +got on very well together, the rogues. They never quarreled; they would chuckle +in each other’s faces, as they sat of an evening after dinner, their +elbows on the table; they would rub up against one another all the live-long +day, like cats which seek and cultivate their pleasure. The days when they came +home in a rage, it was on her that they vented it. Go it! hammer away at the +animal! She had a good back; it made them all the better friends when they +yelled together. And it never did for her to give them tit-for-tat. In the +beginning, whenever one of them yelled at her, she would appeal to the other, +but this seldom worked. Coupeau had a foul mouth and called her horrible +things. Lantier chose his insults carefully, but they often hurt her even more. +</p> + +<p> +But one can get used to anything. Soon their nasty remarks and all the wrongs +done her by these two men slid off her smooth skin like water off a +duck’s back. It was even easier to have them angry, because when they +were in good moods they bothered her too much, never giving her time to get a +bonnet ironed. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Coupeau and Lantier were wearing her out. The zinc-worker, sure enough, +lacked education; but the hatter had too much, or at least he had education in +the same way that dirty people have a white shirt, with uncleanliness +underneath it. One night, she dreamt that she was on the edge of a wall; +Coupeau was knocking her into it with a blow of his fist, whilst Lantier was +tickling her in the ribs to make her fall quicker. Well! That resembled her +life. It was no surprise if she was becoming slipshod. The neighbors +weren’t fair in blaming her for the frightful habits she had fallen into. +Sometimes a cold shiver ran through her, but things could have been worse, so +she tried to make the best of it. Once she had seen a play in which the wife +detested her husband and poisoned him for the sake of her lover. Wasn’t +it more sensible for the three of them to live together in peace? In spite of +her debts and poverty she thought she was quite happy and could live in peace +if only Coupeau and Lantier would stop yelling at her so much. +</p> + +<p> +Towards the autumn, unfortunately, things became worse. Lantier pretended he +was getting thinner, and pulled a longer face over the matter every day. He +grumbled at everything, sniffed at the dishes of potatoes—a mess he could +not eat, he would say, without having the colic. The least jangling now turned +to quarrels, in which they accused one another of being the cause of all their +troubles, and it was a devil of a job to restore harmony before they all +retired for the night. +</p> + +<p> +Lantier sensed a crisis coming and it exasperated him to realise that this +place was already so thoroughly cleaned out that he could see the day coming +when he’d have to take his hat and seek elsewhere for his bed and board. +He had become accustomed to this little paradise where he was nicely treated by +everybody. He should have blamed himself for eating himself out of house and +home, but instead he blamed the Coupeaus for letting themselves be ruined in +less than two years. He thought Gervaise was too extravagant. What was going to +happen to them now? +</p> + +<p> +One evening in December they had no dinner at all. There was not a radish left. +Lantier, who was very glum, went out early, wandering about in search of some +other den where the smell of the kitchen would bring a smile to one’s +face. He would now remain for hours beside the stove wrapt in thought. Then, +suddenly, he began to evince a great friendship for the Poissons. He no longer +teased the policeman and even went so far as to concede that the Emperor might +not be such a bad fellow after all. He seemed to especially admire Virginie. No +doubt he was hoping to board with them. Virginie having acquainted him with her +desire to set up in some sort of business, he agreed with everything she said, +and declared that her idea was a most brilliant one. She was just the person +for trade—tall, engaging and active. Oh! she would make as much as she +liked. The capital had been available for some time, thanks to an inheritance +from an aunt. Lantier told her of all the shopkeepers who were making fortunes. +The time was right for it; you could sell anything these days. Virginie, +however, hesitated; she was looking for a shop that was to be let, she did not +wish to leave the neighborhood. Then Lantier would take her into corners and +converse with her in an undertone for ten minutes at a time. He seemed to be +urging her to do something in spite of herself; and she no longer said +“no,” but appeared to authorize him to act. It was as a secret +between them, with winks and words rapidly exchanged, some mysterious +understanding which betrayed itself even in their handshakings. +</p> + +<p> +From this moment the hatter would covertly watch the Coupeaus whilst eating +their dry bread, and becoming very talkative again, would deafen them with his +continual jeremiads. All day long Gervaise moved in the midst of that poverty +which he so obligingly spread out. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> he wasn’t thinking of +himself; he would go on starving with his friends as long as they liked. But +look at it with common sense. They owed at least five hundred francs in the +neighborhood. Besides which, they were two quarters’ rent behind with the +rent, which meant another two hundred and fifty francs; the landlord, Monsieur +Marescot, even spoke of having them evicted if they did not pay him by the +first of January. Finally the pawn-place had absorbed everything, one could not +have got together three francs’ worth of odds and ends, the clearance had +been so complete; the nails remained in the walls and that was all and perhaps +there were two pounds of them at three sous the pound. Gervaise, thoroughly +entangled in it all, her nerves quite upset by this calculation, would fly into +a passion and bang her fists down upon the table or else she would end by +bursting into tears like a fool. One night she exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be off to-morrow! I prefer to put the key under the door and +to sleep on the pavement rather than continue to live in such frights.” +</p> + +<p> +“It would be wiser,” said Lantier slyly, “to get rid of the +lease if you could find someone to take it. When you are both decided to give +up the shop—” +</p> + +<p> +She interrupted him more violently: +</p> + +<p> +“At once, at once! Ah! it’ll be a good riddance!” +</p> + +<p> +Then the hatter became very practical. On giving up the lease one would no +doubt get the new tenant to be responsible for the two overdue quarters. And he +ventured to mention the Poissons, he reminded them that Virginie was looking +for a shop; theirs would perhaps suit her. He remembered that he had heard her +say she longed for one just like it. But when Virginie’s name was +mentioned the laundress suddenly regained her composure. We’ll see how +things go along. When you’re angry you always talk of quitting, but it +isn’t so easy when you just stop to think about it. +</p> + +<p> +During the following days it was in vain that Lantier harped upon the subject. +Gervaise replied that she had seen herself worse off and had pulled through. +How would she be better off when she no longer had her shop? That would not put +bread into their mouths. She would, on the contrary, engage some fresh +workwomen and work up a fresh connection. +</p> + +<p> +Lantier made the mistake of mentioning Virginie again. This stirred Gervaise +into furious obstinacy. No! Never! She had always had her suspicions of what +was in Virginie’s heart. Virginie only wanted to humiliate her. She would +rather turn it over to the first woman to come in from the street than to that +hypocrite who had been waiting for years to see her fail. Yes, Virginie still +had in mind that fight in the wash-house. Well, she’d be wiser to forget +about it, unless she wanted another one now. +</p> + +<p> +In the face of this flow of angry retorts, Lantier began by attacking Gervaise. +He called her stupid and stuck-up. He even went so far as to abuse Coupeau, +accusing him of not knowing how to make his wife respect his friend. Then, +realising that passion would compromise everything, he swore that he would +never again interest himself in the affairs of other people, for one always got +more kicks than thanks; and indeed he appeared to have given up all idea of +talking them into parting with the lease, but he was really watching for a +favorable opportunity of broaching the subject again and of bringing the +laundress round to his views. +</p> + +<p> +January had now arrived; the weather was wretched, both damp and cold. Mother +Coupeau, who had coughed and choked all through December, was obliged to take +to her bed after Twelfth-night. It was her annuity, which she expected every +winter. This winter though, those around her said she’d never come out of +her bedroom except feet first. Indeed, her gaspings sounded like a death +rattle. She was still fat, but one eye was blind and one side of her face was +twisted. The doctor made one call and didn’t return again. They kept +giving her tisanes and going to check on her every hour. She could no longer +speak because her breathing was so difficult. +</p> + +<p> +One Monday evening, Coupeau came home totally drunk. Ever since his mother was +in danger, he had lived in a continual state of deep emotion. When he was in +bed, snoring soundly, Gervaise walked about the place for a while. She was in +the habit of watching over mother Coupeau during a part of the night. Nana had +showed herself very brave, always sleeping beside the old woman, and saying +that if she heard her dying, she would wake everyone. Since the invalid seemed +to be sleeping peacefully this night, Gervaise finally yielded to the appeals +of Lantier to come into his room for a little rest. They only kept a candle +alight, standing on the ground behind the wardrobe. But towards three +o’clock Gervaise abruptly jumped out of bed, shivering and oppressed with +anguish. She thought she had felt a cold breath pass over her body. The morsel +of candle had burnt out; she tied on her petticoats in the dark, all +bewildered, and with feverish hands. It was not till she got into the little +room, after knocking up against the furniture, that she was able to light a +small lamp. In the midst of the oppressive silence of night, the +zinc-worker’s snores alone sounded as two grave notes. Nana, stretched on +her back, was breathing gently between her pouting lips. And Gervaise, holding +down the lamp which caused big shadows to dance about the room, cast the light +on mother Coupeau’s face, and beheld it all white, the head lying on the +shoulder, the eyes wide open. Mother Coupeau was dead. +</p> + +<p> +Gently, without uttering a cry, icy cold yet prudent, the laundress returned to +Lantier’s room. He had gone to sleep again. She bent over him and +murmured: +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, it’s all over, she’s dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Heavy with sleep, only half awake, he grunted at first: +</p> + +<p> +“Leave me alone, get into bed. We can’t do her any good if +she’s dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he raised himself on his elbow and asked: +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Three o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only three o’clock! Get into bed quick. You’ll catch cold. +When it’s daylight, we’ll see what’s to be done.” +</p> + +<p> +But she did not listen to him, she dressed herself completely. Bundling himself +in the blankets, Lantier muttered about how stubborn women were. What was the +hurry to announce a death in the house? He was irritated at having his sleep +spoiled by such gloomy matters. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, Gervaise had moved her things back into her own room. Then she felt +free to sit down and cry, no longer fearful of being caught in Lantier’s +room. She had been fond of mother Coupeau and felt a deep sorrow at her loss. +She sat, crying by herself, her sobs loud in the silence, but Coupeau never +stirred. She had spoken to him and even shaken him and finally decided to let +him sleep. He would be more of a nuisance if he woke up. +</p> + +<p> +On returning to the body, she found Nana sitting up in bed rubbing her eyes. +The child understood, and with her vicious urchin’s curiosity, stretched +out her neck to get a better view of her grandmother; she said nothing but she +trembled slightly, surprised and satisfied in the presence of this death which +she had been promising herself for two days past, like some nasty thing hidden +away and forbidden to children; and her young cat-like eyes dilated before that +white face all emaciated at the last gasp by the passion of life, she felt that +tingling in her back which she felt behind the glass door when she crept there +to spy on what was no concern of chits like her. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, get up,” said her mother in a low voice. “You +can’t remain here.” +</p> + +<p> +She regretfully slid out of bed, turning her head round and not taking her eyes +off the corpse. Gervaise was much worried about her, not knowing where to put +her till day-time. She was about to tell her to dress herself, when Lantier, in +his trousers and slippers, rejoined her. He could not get to sleep again, and +was rather ashamed of his behavior. Then everything was arranged. +</p> + +<p> +“She can sleep in my bed,” murmured he. “She’ll have +plenty of room.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana looked at her mother and Lantier with her big, clear eyes and put on her +stupid air, the same as on New Year’s day when anyone made her a present +of a box of chocolate candy. And there was certainly no need for them to hurry +her. She trotted off in her night-gown, her bare feet scarcely touching the +tiled floor; she glided like a snake into the bed, which was still quite warm, +and she lay stretched out and buried in it, her slim body scarcely raising the +counterpane. Each time her mother entered the room she beheld her with her eyes +sparkling in her motionless face—not sleeping, not moving, very red with +excitement, and appearing to reflect on her own affairs. +</p> + +<p> +Lantier assisted Gervaise in dressing mother Coupeau—and it was not an +easy matter, for the body was heavy. One would never have thought that that old +woman was so fat and so white. They put on her stockings, a white petticoat, a +short linen jacket and a white cap—in short, the best of her linen. +Coupeau continued snoring, a high note and a low one, the one sharp, the other +flat. One could almost have imagined it to be church music accompanying the +Good Friday ceremonies. When the corpse was dressed and properly laid out on +the bed, Lantier poured himself out a glass of wine, for he felt quite upset. +Gervaise searched the chest of drawers to find a little brass crucifix which +she had brought from Plassans, but she recollected that mother Coupeau had, in +all probability, sold it herself. They had lighted the stove, and they passed +the rest of the night half asleep on chairs, finishing the bottle of wine that +had been opened, worried and sulking, as though it was their own fault. +</p> + +<p> +Towards seven o’clock, before daylight, Coupeau at length awoke. When he +learnt his loss he at first stood still with dry eyes, stuttering and vaguely +thinking that they were playing him some joke. Then he threw himself on the +ground and went and knelt beside the corpse. His kissed it and wept like a +child, with such a copious flow of tears that he quite wetted the sheet with +wiping his cheeks. Gervaise had recommenced sobbing, deeply affected by her +husband’s grief, and the best of friends with him again. Yes, he was +better at heart than she thought he was. Coupeau’s despair mingled with a +violent pain in his head. He passed his fingers through his hair. His mouth was +dry, like on the morrow of a booze, and he was still a little drunk in spite of +his ten hours of sleep. And, clenching his fist, he complained aloud. <i>Mon +Dieu!</i> she was gone now, his poor mother, whom he loved so much! Ah! what a +headache he had; it would settle him! It was like a wig of fire! And now they +were tearing out his heart! No, it was not just of fate thus to set itself +against one man! +</p> + +<p> +“Come, cheer up, old fellow,” said Lantier, raising him from the +ground; “you must pull yourself together.” +</p> + +<p> +He poured him out a glass of wine, but Coupeau refused to drink. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter with me? I’ve got copper in my throat. +It’s mamma. When I saw her I got a taste of copper in my mouth. Mamma! +<i>Mon Dieu!</i> mamma, mamma!” +</p> + +<p> +And he recommenced crying like a child. Then he drank the glass of wine, hoping +to put out the flame searing his breast. Lantier soon left, using the excuse of +informing the family and filing the necessary declaration at the town hall. +Really though, he felt the need of fresh air, and so he took his time, smoking +cigarettes and enjoying the morning air. When he left Madame Lerat’s +house, he went into a dairy place on Les Batignolles for a cup of hot coffee +and remained there an hour, thinking things over. +</p> + +<p> +Towards nine o’clock the family were all united in the shop, the shutters +of which were kept up. Lorilleux did not cry. Moreover he had some pressing +work to attend to, and he returned almost directly to his room, after having +stalked about with a face put on for the occasion. Madame Lorilleux and Madame +Lerat embraced the Coupeaus and wiped their eyes, from which a few tears were +falling. But Madame Lorilleux, after giving a hasty glance round the death +chamber, suddenly raised her voice to say that it was unheard of, that one +never left a lighted lamp beside a corpse; there should be a candle, and Nana +was sent to purchase a packet of tall ones. Ah, well! It made one long to die +at Clump-clump’s, she laid one out in such a fine fashion! What a fool, +not even to know what to do with a corpse! Had she then never buried anyone in +her life? Madame Lerat had to go to the neighbors and borrow a crucifix; she +brought one back which was too big, a cross of black wood with a Christ in +painted cardboard fastened to it, which covered the whole of mother +Coupeau’s chest, and seemed to crush her under its weight. Then they +tried to obtain some holy water, but no one had any, and it was again Nana who +was sent to the church to bring some back in a bottle. In practically no time +the tiny room presented quite another appearance; on a little table a candle +was burning beside a glass full of holy water into which a sprig of boxwood was +dipped. Now, if anyone came, it would at least look decent. And they arranged +the chairs in a circle in the shop for receiving people. +</p> + +<p> +Lantier only returned at eleven o’clock. He had been to the +undertaker’s for information. +</p> + +<p> +“The coffin is twelve francs,” said he. “If you desire a +mass, it will be ten francs more. Then there’s the hearse, which is +charged for according to the ornaments.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! it’s quite unnecessary to be fancy,” murmured Madame +Lorilleux, raising her head in a surprised and anxious manner. “We +can’t bring mamma to life again, can we? One must do according to +one’s means.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, that’s just what I think,” resumed the hatter. +“I merely asked the prices to guide you. Tell me what you desire; and +after lunch I will give the orders.” +</p> + +<p> +They were talking in lowered voices. Only a dim light came into the room +through the cracks in the shutters. The door to the little room stood half +open, and from it came the deep silence of death. Children’s laughter +echoed in the courtyard. Suddenly they heard the voice of Nana, who had escaped +from the Boches to whom she had been sent. She was giving commands in her +shrill voice and the children were singing a song about a donkey. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise waited until it was quiet to say: +</p> + +<p> +“We’re not rich certainly; but all the same we wish to act +decently. If mother Coupeau has left us nothing, it’s no reason for +pitching her into the ground like a dog. No; we must have a mass, and a hearse +with a few ornaments.” +</p> + +<p> +“And who will pay for them?” violently inquired Madame Lorilleux. +“Not we, who lost some money last week; and you either, as you’re +stumped. Ah! you ought, however, to see where it has led you, this trying to +impress people!” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau, when consulted, mumbled something with a gesture of profound +indifference, and then fell asleep again on his chair. Madame Lerat said that +she would pay her share. She was of Gervaise’s opinion, they should do +things decently. Then the two of them fell to making calculations on a piece of +paper: in all, it would amount to about ninety francs, because they decided, +after a long discussion, to have a hearse ornamented with a narrow scallop. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re three,” concluded the laundress. “We’ll +give thirty francs each. It won’t ruin us.” +</p> + +<p> +But Madame Lorilleux broke out in a fury. +</p> + +<p> +“Well! I refuse, yes, I refuse! It’s not for the thirty francs. +I’d give a hundred thousand, if I had them, and if it would bring mamma +to life again. Only, I don’t like vain people. You’ve got a shop, +you only dream of showing off before the neighborhood. We don’t fall in +with it, we don’t. We don’t try to make ourselves out what we are +not. Oh! you can manage it to please yourself. Put plumes on the hearse if it +amuses you.” +</p> + +<p> +“No one asks you for anything,” Gervaise ended by answering. +“Even though I should have to sell myself, I’ll not have anything +to reproach myself with. I’ve fed mother Coupeau without your help, and I +can certainly bury her without your help also. I already once before gave you a +bit of my mind; I pick up stray cats, I’m not likely to leave your mother +in the mire.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Madame Lorilleux burst into tears and Lantier had to prevent her from +leaving. The argument became so noisy that Madame Lerat felt she had to go +quietly into the little room and glance tearfully at her dead mother, as though +fearing to find her awake and listening. Just at this moment the girls playing +in the courtyard, led by Nana, began singing again. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mon Dieu!</i> how those children grate on one’s nerves with +their singing!” said Gervaise, all upset and on the point of sobbing with +impatience and sadness. Turning to the hatter, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Do please make them leave off, and send Nana back to the +concierge’s with a kick.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lerat and Madame Lorilleux went away to eat lunch, promising to return. +The Coupeaus sat down to eat a bite without much appetite, feeling hesitant +about even raising a fork. After lunch Lantier went to the undertaker’s +again with the ninety francs. Thirty had come from Madame Lerat and Gervaise +had run, with her hair all loose, to borrow sixty francs from Goujet. +</p> + +<p> +Several of the neighbors called in the afternoon, mainly out of curiosity. They +went into the little room to make the sign of the cross and sprinkle some holy +water with the boxwood sprig. Then they sat in the shop and talked endlessly +about the departed. Mademoiselle Remanjou had noticed that her right eye was +still open. Madame Gaudron maintained that she had a fine complexion for her +age. Madame Fauconnier kept repeating that she had seen her having coffee only +three days earlier. +</p> + +<p> +Towards evening the Coupeaus were beginning to have had enough of it. It was +too great an affliction for a family to have to keep a corpse so long a time. +The government ought to have made a new law on the subject. All through another +evening, another night, and another morning—no! it would never come to an +end. When one no longer weeps, grief turns to irritation; is it not so? One +would end by misbehaving oneself. Mother Coupeau, dumb and stiff in the depths +of the narrow chamber, was spreading more and more over the lodging and +becoming heavy enough to crush the people in it. And the family, in spite of +itself, gradually fell into the ordinary mode of life, and lost some portion of +its respect. +</p> + +<p> +“You must have a mouthful with us,” said Gervaise to Madame Lerat +and Madame Lorilleux, when they returned. “We’re too sad; we must +keep together.” +</p> + +<p> +They laid the cloth on the work-table. Each one, on seeing the plates, thought +of the feastings they had had on it. Lantier had returned. Lorilleux came down. +A pastry-cook had just brought a meat pie, for the laundress was too upset to +attend to any cooking. As they were taking their seats, Boche came to say that +Monsieur Marescot asked to be admitted, and the landlord appeared, looking very +grave, and wearing a broad decoration on his frock-coat. He bowed in silence +and went straight to the little room, where he knelt down. All the family, +leaving the table, stood up, greatly impressed. Monsieur Marescot, having +finished his devotions, passed into the shop and said to the Coupeaus: +</p> + +<p> +“I have come for the two quarters’ rent that’s overdue. Are +you prepared to pay?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, not quite,” stammered Gervaise, greatly put out at +hearing this mentioned before the Lorilleuxs. “You see, with the +misfortune which has fallen upon us—” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt, but everyone has their troubles,” resumed the landlord, +spreading out his immense fingers, which indicated the former workman. “I +am very sorry, but I cannot wait any longer. If I am not paid by the morning +after to-morrow, I shall be obliged to have you put out.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, struck dumb, imploringly clasped her hands, her eyes full of tears. +With an energetic shake of his big bony head, he gave her to understand that +supplications were useless. Besides, the respect due to the dead forbade all +discussion. He discreetly retired, walking backwards. +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand pardons for having disturbed you,” murmured he. +“The morning after to-morrow; do not forget.” +</p> + +<p> +And as on withdrawing he again passed before the little room, he saluted the +corpse a last time through the wide open door by devoutly bending his knee. +</p> + +<p> +They began eating and gobbled the food down very quickly, so as not to seem to +be enjoying it, only slowing down when they reached the dessert. Occasionally +Gervaise or one of the sisters would get up, still holding her napkin, to look +into the small room. They made plenty of strong coffee to keep them awake +through the night. The Poissons arrived about eight and were invited for +coffee. +</p> + +<p> +Then Lantier, who had been watching Gervaise’s face, seemed to seize an +opportunity that he had been waiting for ever since the morning. In speaking of +the indecency of landlords who entered houses of mourning to demand their +money, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a Jesuit, the beast, with his air of officiating at a mass! +But in your place, I’d just chuck up the shop altogether.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, quite worn out and feeling weak and nervous, gave way and replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I shall certainly not wait for the bailiffs. Ah! it’s more +than I can bear—more than I can bear.” +</p> + +<p> +The Lorilleuxs, delighted at the idea that Clump-clump would no longer have a +shop, approved the plan immensely. One could hardly conceive the great cost a +shop was. If she only earned three francs working for others she at least had +no expenses; she did not risk losing large sums of money. They repeated this +argument to Coupeau, urging him on; he drank a great deal and remained in a +continuous fit of sensibility, weeping all day by himself in his plate. As the +laundress seemed to be allowing herself to be convinced, Lantier looked at the +Poissons and winked. And tall Virginie intervened, making herself most amiable. +</p> + +<p> +“You know, we might arrange the matter between us. I would relieve you of +the rest of the lease and settle your matter with the landlord. In short, you +would not be worried nearly so much.” +</p> + +<p> +“No thanks,” declared Gervaise, shaking herself as though she felt +a shudder pass over her. “I’ll work; I’ve got my two arms, +thank heaven! to help me out of my difficulties.” +</p> + +<p> +“We can talk about it some other time,” the hatter hastened to put +in. “It’s scarcely the thing to do so this evening. Some other +time—in the morning for instance.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment, Madame Lerat, who had gone into the little room, uttered a +faint cry. She had had a fright because she had found the candle burnt out. +They all busied themselves in lighting another; they shook their heads, saying +that it was not a good sign when the light went out beside a corpse. +</p> + +<p> +The wake commenced. Coupeau had gone to lie down, not to sleep, said he, but to +think; and five minutes afterwards he was snoring. When they sent Nana off to +sleep at the Boches’ she cried; she had been looking forward ever since +the morning to being nice and warm in her good friend Lantier’s big bed. +The Poissons stayed till midnight. Some hot wine had been made in a salad-bowl +because the coffee affected the ladies’ nerves too much. The conversation +became tenderly effusive. Virginie talked of the country: she would like to be +buried at the corner of a wood with wild flowers on her grave. Madame Lerat had +already put by in her wardrobe the sheet for her shroud, and she kept it +perfumed with a bunch of lavender; she wished always to have a nice smell under +her nose when she would be eating the dandelions by the roots. Then, with no +sort of transition, the policeman related that he had arrested a fine girl that +morning who had been stealing from a pork-butcher’s shop; on undressing +her at the commissary of police’s they had found ten sausages hanging +round her body. And Madame Lorilleux having remarked, with a look of disgust, +that she would not eat any of those sausages, the party burst into a gentle +laugh. The wake became livelier, though not ceasing to preserve appearances. +</p> + +<p> +But just as they were finishing the hot wine a peculiar noise, a dull trickling +sound, issued from the little room. All raised their heads and looked at each +other. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s nothing,” said Lantier quietly, lowering his voice. +“She’s emptying.” +</p> + +<p> +The explanation caused the others to nod their heads in a reassured way, and +they replaced their glasses on the table. +</p> + +<p> +When the Poissons left for home, Lantier left also, saying he would sleep with +a friend and leave his bed for the ladies in case they wanted to take turns +napping. Lorilleux went upstairs to bed. Gervaise and the two sisters arranged +themselves by the stove where they huddled together close to the warmth, +talking quietly. Coupeau was still snoring. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lorilleux was complaining that she didn’t have a black dress and +asked Gervaise about the black skirt they had given mother Coupeau on her +saint’s day. Gervaise went to look for it. Madame Lorilleux then wanted +some of the old linen and mentioned the bed, the wardrobe, and the two chairs +as she looked around for other odds and ends. Madame Lerat had to serve as +peace maker when a quarrel nearly broke out. She pointed out that as the +Coupeaus had cared for their mother, they deserved to keep the few things she +had left. Soon they were all dozing around the stove. +</p> + +<p> +The night seemed terribly long to them. Now and again they shook themselves, +drank some coffee and stretched their necks in the direction of the little +room, where the candle, which was not to be snuffed, was burning with a dull +red flame, flickering the more because of the black soot on the wick. Towards +morning, they shivered, in spite of the great heat of the stove. Anguish, and +the fatigue of having talked too much was stifling them, whilst their mouths +were parched, and their eyes ached. Madame Lerat threw herself on +Lantier’s bed, and snored as loud as a man; whilst the other two, their +heads falling forward, and almost touching their knees, slept before the fire. +At daybreak, a shudder awoke them. Mother Coupeau’s candle had again gone +out; and as, in the obscurity, the dull trickling sound recommenced, Madame +Lorilleux gave the explanation of it anew in a loud voice, so as to reassure +herself: +</p> + +<p> +“She’s emptying,” repeated she, lighting another candle. +</p> + +<p> +The funeral was to take place at half-past ten. A nice morning to add to the +night and the day before! Gervaise, though without a sou, said she would have +given a hundred francs to anybody who would have come and taken mother Coupeau +away three hours sooner. No, one may love people, but they are too great a +weight when they are dead; and the more one has loved them, the sooner one +would like to be rid of their bodies. +</p> + +<p> +The morning of a funeral is, fortunately, full of diversions. One has all sorts +of preparations to make. To begin with, they lunched. Then it happened to be +old Bazouge, the undertaker’s helper, who lived on the sixth floor, who +brought the coffin and the sack of bran. He was never sober, the worthy fellow. +At eight o’clock that day, he was still lively from the booze of the day +before. +</p> + +<p> +“This is for here, isn’t it?” asked he. +</p> + +<p> +And he laid down the coffin, which creaked like a new box. But as he was +throwing the sack of bran on one side, he stood with a look of amazement in his +eyes, his mouth opened wide, on beholding Gervaise before him. +</p> + +<p> +“Beg pardon, excuse me. I’ve made a mistake,” stammered he. +“I was told it was for you.” +</p> + +<p> +He had already taken up the sack again, and the laundress was obliged to call +to him: +</p> + +<p> +“Leave it alone, it’s for here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! <i>Mon Dieu!</i> Now I understand!” resumed he, slapping his +thigh. “It’s for the old lady.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise had turned quite pale. Old Bazouge had brought the coffin for her. By +way of apology, he tried to be gallant, and continued: +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not to blame, am I? It was said yesterday that someone on the +ground floor had passed away. Then I thought—you know, in our business, +these things enter by one ear and go out by the other. All the same, my +compliments to you. As late as possible, eh? That’s best, though life +isn’t always amusing; ah! no, by no means.” +</p> + +<p> +As Gervaise listened to him, she draw back, afraid he would grab her and take +her away in the box. She remembered the time before, when he had told her he +knew of women who would thank him to come and get them. Well, she wasn’t +ready yet. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> The thought sent chills down her spine. Her life +may have been bitter, but she wasn’t ready to give it up yet. No, she +would starve for years first. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s abominably drunk,” murmured she, with an air of disgust +mingled with dread. “They at least oughtn’t to send us tipplers. We +pay dear enough.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he became insolent, and jeered: +</p> + +<p> +“See here, little woman, it’s only put off until another time. +I’m entirely at your service, remember! You’ve only to make me a +sign. I’m the ladies’ consoler. And don’t spit on old +Bazouge, because he’s held in his arms finer ones than you, who let +themselves be tucked in without a murmur, very pleased to continue their by-by +in the dark.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hold your tongue, old Bazouge!” said Lorilleux severely, having +hastened to the spot on hearing the noise, “such jokes are highly +improper. If we complained about you, you would get the sack. Come, be off, as +you’ve no respect for principles.” +</p> + +<p> +Bazouge moved away, but one could hear him stuttering as he dragged along the +pavement: +</p> + +<p> +“Well! What? Principles! There’s no such thing as principles, +there’s no such thing as principles—there’s only common +decency!” +</p> + +<p> +At length ten o’clock struck. The hearse was late. There were already +several people in the shop, friends and neighbors—Monsieur Madinier, +My-Boots, Madame Gaudron, Mademoiselle Remanjou; and every minute, a +man’s or a woman’s head was thrust out of the gaping opening of the +door between the closed shutters, to see if that creeping hearse was in sight. +The family, all together in the back room, was shaking hands. Short pauses +occurred interrupted by rapid whisperings, a tiresome and feverish waiting with +sudden rushes of skirts—Madame Lorilleux who had forgotten her +handkerchief, or else Madame Lerat who was trying to borrow a prayer-book. +Everyone, on arriving, beheld the open coffin in the centre of the little room +before the bed; and in spite of oneself, each stood covertly studying it, +calculating that plump mother Coupeau would never fit into it. They all looked +at each other with this thought in their eyes, though without communicating it. +But there was a slight pushing at the front door. Monsieur Madinier, extending +his arms, came and said in a low grave voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Here they are!” +</p> + +<p> +It was not the hearse though. Four helpers entered hastily in single file, with +their red faces, their hands all lumpy like persons in the habit of moving +heavy things, and their rusty black clothes worn and frayed from constant +rubbing against coffins. Old Bazouge walked first, very drunk and very proper. +As soon as he was at work he found his equilibrium. They did not utter a word, +but slightly bowed their heads, already weighing mother Coupeau with a glance. +And they did not dawdle; the poor old woman was packed in, in the time one +takes to sneeze. A young fellow with a squint, the smallest of the men, poured +the bran into the coffin and spread it out. The tall and thin one spread the +winding sheet over the bran. Then, two at the feet and two at the head, all +four took hold of the body and lifted it. Mother Coupeau was in the box, but it +was a tight fit. She touched on every side. +</p> + +<p> +The undertaker’s helpers were now standing up and waiting; the little one +with the squint took the coffin lid, by way of inviting the family to bid their +last farewell, whilst Bazouge had filled his mouth with nails and was holding +the hammer in readiness. Then Coupeau, his two sisters and Gervaise threw +themselves on their knees and kissed the mamma who was going away, weeping +bitterly, the hot tears falling on and streaming down the stiff face now cold +as ice. There was a prolonged sound of sobbing. The lid was placed on, and old +Bazouge knocked the nails in with the style of a packer, two blows for each; +and they none of them listened any longer to their own weeping in that din, +which resembled the noise of furniture being repaired. It was over. The time +for starting had arrived. +</p> + +<p> +“What a fuss to make at such a time!” said Madame Lorilleux to her +husband as she caught sight of the hearse before the door. +</p> + +<p> +The hearse was creating quite a revolution in the neighborhood. The +tripe-seller called to the grocer’s men, the little clockmaker came out +on to the pavement, the neighbors leant out of their windows; and all these +people talked about the scallop with its white cotton fringe. Ah! the Coupeaus +would have done better to have paid their debts. But as the Lorilleuxs said, +when one is proud it shows itself everywhere and in spite of everything. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s shameful!” Gervaise was saying at the same moment, +speaking of the chainmaker and his wife. “To think that those skinflints +have not even brought a bunch of violets for their mother!” +</p> + +<p> +The Lorilleuxs, true enough, had come empty-handed. Madame Lerat had given a +wreath of artificial flowers. And a wreath of immortelles and a bouquet bought +by the Coupeaus were also placed on the coffin. The undertaker’s helpers +had to give a mighty heave to lift the coffin and carry it to the hearse. It +was some time before the procession was formed. Coupeau and Lorilleux, in frock +coats and with their hats in their hands, were chief mourners. The first, in +his emotion which two glasses of white wine early in the morning had helped to +sustain, clung to his brother-in-law’s arm, with no strength in his legs, +and a violent headache. Then followed the other men—Monsieur Madinier, +very grave and all in black; My-Boots, wearing a great-coat over his blouse; +Boche, whose yellow trousers produced the effect of a petard; Lantier, Gaudron, +Bibi-the-Smoker, Poisson and others. The ladies came next—in the first +row Madame Lorilleux, dragging the deceased’s skirt, which she had +altered; Madame Lerat, hiding under a shawl her hastily got-up mourning, a gown +with lilac trimmings; and following them, Virginie, Madame Gaudron, Madame +Fauconnier, Mademoiselle Remanjou and the rest. When the hearse started and +slowly descended the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or, amidst signs of the cross and +heads bared, the four helpers took the lead, two in front, the two others on +the right and left. Gervaise had remained behind to close the shop. She left +Nana with Madame Boche and ran to rejoin the procession, whilst the child, +firmly held by the concierge under the porch, watched with a deeply interested +gaze her grandmother disappear at the end of the street in that beautiful +carriage. +</p> + +<p> +At the moment when Gervaise caught up with the procession, Goujet arrived from +another direction. He nodded to her so sympathetically that she was reminded of +how unhappy she was, and began to cry again as Goujet took his place with the +men. +</p> + +<p> +The ceremony at the church was soon got through. The mass dragged a little, +though, because the priest was very old. My-Boots and Bibi-the-Smoker preferred +to remain outside on account of the collection. Monsieur Madinier studied the +priests all the while, and communicated his observations to Lantier. Those +jokers, though so glib with their Latin, did not even know a word of what they +were saying. They buried a person just in the same way that they would have +baptized or married him, without the least feeling in their heart. +</p> + +<p> +Happily, the cemetery was not far off, the little cemetery of La Chapelle, a +bit of a garden which opened on to the Rue Marcadet. The procession arrived +disbanded, with stampings of feet and everybody talking of his own affairs. The +hard earth resounded, and many would have liked to have moved about to keep +themselves warm. The gaping hole beside which the coffin was laid was already +frozen over, and looked white and stony, like a plaster quarry; and the +followers, grouped round little heaps of gravel, did not find it pleasant +standing in such piercing cold, whilst looking at the hole likewise bored them. +At length a priest in a surplice came out of a little cottage. He shivered, and +one could see his steaming breath at each <i>de profundis</i> that he uttered. +At the final sign of the cross he bolted off, without the least desire to go +through the service again. The sexton took his shovel, but on account of the +frost, he was only able to detach large lumps of earth, which beat a fine tune +down below, a regular bombardment of the coffin, an enfilade of artillery +sufficient to make one think the wood was splitting. One may be a cynic; +nevertheless that sort of music soon upsets one’s stomach. The weeping +recommenced. They moved off, they even got outside, but they still heard the +detonations. My-Boots, blowing on his fingers, uttered an observation aloud. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Tonnerre de Dieu!</i> poor mother Coupeau won’t feel very +warm!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ladies and gentlemen,” said the zinc-worker to the few friends who +remained in the street with the family, “will you permit us to offer you +some refreshments?” +</p> + +<p> +He led the way to a wine shop in the Rue Marcadet, the “Arrival at the +Cemetery.” Gervaise, remaining outside, called Goujet, who was moving +off, after again nodding to her. Why didn’t he accept a glass of wine? He +was in a hurry; he was going back to the workshop. Then they looked at each +other a moment without speaking. +</p> + +<p> +“I must ask your pardon for troubling you about the sixty francs,” +at length murmured the laundress. “I was half crazy, I thought of +you—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! don’t mention it; you’re fully forgiven,” +interrupted the blacksmith. “And you know, I am quite at your service if +any misfortune should overtake you. But don’t say anything to mamma, +because she has her ideas, and I don’t wish to cause her +annoyance.” +</p> + +<p> +She gazed at him. He seemed to her such a good man, and sad-looking, and so +handsome. She was on the verge of accepting his former proposal, to go away +with him and find happiness together somewhere else. Then an evil thought came +to her. It was the idea of borrowing the six months’ back rent from him. +</p> + +<p> +She trembled and resumed in a caressing tone of voice: +</p> + +<p> +“We’re still friends, aren’t we?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head as he answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we’ll always be friends. It’s just that, you know, all +is over between us.” +</p> + +<p> +And he went off with long strides, leaving Gervaise bewildered, listening to +his last words which rang in her ears with the clang of a big bell. On entering +the wine shop, she seemed to hear a hollow voice within her which said, +“All is over, well! All is over; there is nothing more for me to do if +all is over!” Sitting down, she swallowed a mouthful of bread and cheese, +and emptied a glass full of wine which she found before her. +</p> + +<p> +The wine shop was a single, long room with a low ceiling occupied by two large +tables on which loaves of bread, large chunks of Brie cheese and bottles of +wine were set out. They ate informally, without a tablecloth. Near the stove at +the back the undertaker’s helpers were finishing their lunch. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mon Dieu!</i>” exclaimed Monsieur Madinier, “we each have +our time. The old folks make room for the young ones. Your lodging will seem +very empty to you now when you go home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! my brother is going to give notice,” said Madame Lorilleux +quickly. “That shop’s ruined.” +</p> + +<p> +They had been working upon Coupeau. Everyone was urging him to give up the +lease. Madame Lerat herself, who had been on very good terms with Lantier and +Virginie for some time past, and who was tickled with the idea that they were a +trifle smitten with each other, talked of bankruptcy and prison, putting on the +most terrified airs. And suddenly, the zinc-worker, already overdosed with +liquor, flew into a passion, his emotion turned to fury. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” cried he, poking his nose in his wife’s face; +“I intend that you shall listen to me! Your confounded head will always +have its own way. But, this time, I intend to have mine, I warn you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! well,” said Lantier, “one never yet brought her to +reason by fair words; it wants a mallet to drive it into her head.” +</p> + +<p> +For a time they both went on at her. Meanwhile, the Brie was quickly +disappearing and the wine bottles were pouring like fountains. Gervaise began +to weaken under this persistent pounding. She answered nothing, but hurried +herself, her mouth ever full, as though she had been very hungry. When they got +tired, she gently raised her head and said: +</p> + +<p> +“That’s enough, isn’t it? I don’t care a straw for the +shop! I want no more of it. Do you understand? It can go to the deuce! All is +over!” +</p> + +<p> +Then they ordered some more bread and cheese and talked business. The Poissons +took the rest of the lease and agreed to be answerable for the two +quarters’ rent overdue. Boche, moreover, pompously agreed to the +arrangement in the landlord’s name. He even then and there let a lodging +to the Coupeaus—the vacant one on the sixth floor, in the same passage as +the Lorilleuxs’ apartment. As for Lantier, well! He would like to keep +his room, if it did not inconvenience the Poissons. The policeman bowed; it did +not inconvenience him at all; friends always get on together, in spite of any +difference in their political ideas. And Lantier, without mixing himself up any +more in the matter, like a man who has at length settled his little business, +helped himself to an enormous slice of bread and cheese; he leant back in his +chair and ate devoutly, his blood tingling beneath his skin, his whole body +burning with a sly joy, and he blinked his eyes to peep first at Gervaise, and +then at Virginie. +</p> + +<p> +“Hi! Old Bazouge!” called Coupeau, “come and have a drink. +We’re not proud; we’re all workers.” +</p> + +<p> +The four undertaker’s helpers, who had started to leave, came back to +raise glasses with the group. They thought that the lady had weighed quite a +bit and they had certainly earned a glass of wine. Old Bazouge gazed steadily +at Gervaise without saying a word. It made her feel uneasy though and she got +up and left the men who were beginning to show signs of being drunk. Coupeau +began to sob again, saying he was feeling very sad. +</p> + +<p> +That evening when Gervaise found herself at home again, she remained in a +stupefied state on a chair. It seemed to her that the rooms were immense and +deserted. Really, it would be a good riddance. But it was certainly not only +mother Coupeau that she had left at the bottom of the hole in the little garden +of the Rue Marcadet. She missed too many things, most likely a part of her +life, and her shop, and her pride of being an employer, and other feelings +besides, which she had buried on that day. Yes, the walls were bare, and her +heart also; it was a complete clear out, a tumble into the pit. And she felt +too tired; she would pick herself up again later on if she could. +</p> + +<p> +At ten o’clock, when undressing, Nana cried and stamped. She wanted to +sleep in mother Coupeau’s bed. Her mother tried to frighten her; but the +child was too precocious. Corpses only filled her with a great curiosity; so +that, for the sake of peace, she was allowed to lie down in mother +Coupeau’s place. She liked big beds, the chit; she spread herself out and +rolled about. She slept uncommonly well that night in the warm and pleasant +feather bed. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"></a> +CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p> +The Coupeaus’ new lodging was on the sixth floor, staircase B. After +passing Mademoiselle Remanjou’s door, you took the corridor to the left, +and then turned again further along. The first door was for the apartment of +the Bijards. Almost opposite, in an airless corner under a small staircase +leading to the roof, was where Pere Bru slept. Two doors further was +Bazouge’s room and the Coupeaus were opposite him, overlooking the court, +with one room and a closet. There were only two more doors along the corridor +before reaching that of the Lorilleuxs at the far end. +</p> + +<p> +A room and a closet, no more. The Coupeaus perched there now. And the room was +scarcely larger than one’s hand. And they had to do everything in +there—eat, sleep, and all the rest. Nana’s bed just squeezed into +the closet; she had to dress in her father and mother’s room, and her +door was kept open at night-time so that she should not be suffocated. There +was so little space that Gervaise had left many things in the shop for the +Poissons. A bed, a table, and four chairs completely filled their new apartment +but she didn’t have the courage to part with her old bureau and so it +blocked off half the window. This made the room dark and gloomy, especially +since one shutter was stuck shut. Gervaise was now so fat that there +wasn’t room for her in the limited window space and she had to lean +sideways and crane her neck if she wanted to see the courtyard. +</p> + +<p> +During the first few days, the laundress would continually sit down and cry. It +seemed to her too hard, not being able to move about in her home, after having +been used to so much room. She felt stifled; she remained at the window for +hours, squeezed between the wall and the drawers and getting a stiff neck. It +was only there that she could breathe freely. However, the courtyard inspired +rather melancholy thoughts. Opposite her, on the sunny side, she would see that +same window she had dreamed about long ago where the spring brought scarlet +vines. Her own room was on the shady side where pots of mignonette died within +a week. Oh, this wasn’t at all the sort of life she had dreamed of. She +had to wallow in filth instead of having flowers all about her. +</p> + +<p> +On leaning out one day, Gervaise experienced a peculiar sensation: she fancied +she beheld herself down below, near the concierge’s room under the porch, +her nose in the air, and examining the house for the first time; and this leap +thirteen years backwards caused her heart to throb. The courtyard was a little +dingier and the walls more stained, otherwise it hadn’t changed much. But +she herself felt terribly changed and worn. To begin with, she was no longer +below, her face raised to heaven, feeling content and courageous and aspiring +to a handsome lodging. She was right up under the roof, among the most +wretched, in the dirtiest hole, the part that never received a ray of sunshine. +And that explained her tears; she could scarcely feel enchanted with her fate. +</p> + +<p> +However, when Gervaise had grown somewhat used to it, the early days of the +little family in their new home did not pass off so badly. The winter was +almost over, and the trifle of money received for the furniture sold to +Virginie helped to make things comfortable. Then with the fine weather came a +piece of luck, Coupeau was engaged to work in the country at Etampes; and he +was there for nearly three months without once getting drunk, cured for a time +by the fresh air. One has no idea what a quench it is to the tippler’s +thirst to leave Paris where the very streets are full of the fumes of wine and +brandy. On his return he was as fresh as a rose, and he brought back in his +pocket four hundred francs with which they paid the two overdue quarters’ +rent at the shop that the Poissons had become answerable for, and also the most +pressing of their little debts in the neighborhood. Gervaise thus opened two or +three streets through which she had not passed for a long time. +</p> + +<p> +She had naturally become an ironer again. Madame Fauconnier was quite +good-hearted if you flattered her a bit, and she was happy to take Gervaise +back, even paying her the same three francs a day as her best worker. This was +out of respect for her former status as an employer. The household seemed to be +getting on well and Gervaise looked forward to the day when all the debts would +be paid. Hard work and economy would solve all their money troubles. +Unfortunately, she dreamed of this in the warm satisfaction of the large sum +earned by her husband. Soon, she said that the good things never lasted and +took things as they came. +</p> + +<p> +What the Coupeaus most suffered from at that time was seeing the Poissons +installing themselves at their former shop. They were not naturally of a +particularly jealous disposition, but people aggravated them by purposely +expressing amazement in their presence at the embellishments of their +successors. The Boches and the Lorilleuxs especially, never tired. According to +them, no one had ever seen so beautiful a shop. They were also continually +mentioning the filthy state in which the Poissons had found the premises, +saying that it had cost thirty francs for the cleaning alone. +</p> + +<p> +After much deliberation, Virginie had decided to open a shop specializing in +candies, chocolate, coffee and tea. Lantier had advised this, saying there was +much money to be made from such delicacies. The shop was stylishly painted +black with yellow stripes. Three carpenters worked for eight days on the +interior, putting up shelves, display cases and counters. Poisson’s small +inheritance must have been almost completely used, but Virginie was ecstatic. +The Lorilleuxs and the Boches made sure that Gervaise did not miss a single +improvement and chuckled to themselves while watching her expression. +</p> + +<p> +There was also a question of a man beneath all this. It was reported that +Lantier had broken off with Gervaise. The neighborhood declared that it was +quite right. In short, it gave a moral tone to the street. And all the honor of +the separation was accorded to the crafty hatter on whom all the ladies +continued to dote. Some said that she was still crazy about him and he had to +slap her to make her leave him alone. Of course, no one told the actual truth. +It was too simple and not interesting enough. +</p> + +<p> +Actually Lantier climbed to the sixth floor to see her whenever he felt the +impulse. Mademoiselle Remanjou had often seen him coming out of the +Coupeaus’ at odd hours. +</p> + +<p> +The situation was even more complicated by neighborhood gossip linking Lantier +and Virginie. The neighbors were a bit too hasty in this also; he had not even +reached the stage of buttock-pinching with her. Still, the Lorilleuxs delighted +in talking sympathetically to Gervaise about the affair between Lantier and +Virginie. The Boches maintained they had never seen a more handsome couple. The +odd thing in all this was that the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or seemed to have +no objection to this new arrangement which everyone thought was progressing +nicely. Those who had been so harsh to Gervaise were now quite lenient toward +Virginie. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise had previously heard numerous reports about Lantier’s affairs +with all sorts of girls on the street and they had bothered her so little that +she hadn’t even felt enough resentment to break off the affair. However, +this new intrigue with Virginie wasn’t quite so easy to accept because +she was sure that the two of them were just out to spite her. She hid her +resentment though to avoid giving any satisfaction to her enemies. Mademoiselle +Remanjou thought that Gervaise had words with Lantier over this because one +afternoon she heard the sound of a slap. There was certainly a quarrel because +Lantier stopped speaking to Gervaise for a couple of weeks, but then he was the +first one to make up and things seemed to go along the same as before. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau found all this most amusing. The complacent husband who had been blind +to his own situation laughed heartily at Poisson’s predicament. Then +Coupeau even teased Gervaise. Her lovers always dropped her. First the +blacksmith and now the hatmaker. The trouble was that she got involved with +undependable trades. She should take up with a mason, a good solid man. He said +such things as if he were joking, but they upset Gervaise because his small +grey eyes seemed to be boring right into her. +</p> + +<p> +On evenings when Coupeau became bored being alone with his wife up in their +tiny hole under the roof, he would go down for Lantier and invite him up. He +thought their dump was too dreary without Lantier’s company so he patched +things up between Gervaise and Lantier whenever they had a falling out. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of all this Lantier put on the most consequential airs. He showed +himself both paternal and dignified. On three successive occasions he had +prevented a quarrel between the Coupeaus and the Poissons. The good +understanding between the two families formed a part of his contentment. Thanks +to the tender though firm glances with which he watched over Gervaise and +Virginie, they always pretended to entertain a great friendship for each other. +He reigned over both blonde and brunette with the tranquillity of a pasha, and +fattened on his cunning. The rogue was still digesting the Coupeaus when he +already began to devour the Poissons. Oh, it did not inconvenience him much! As +soon as one shop was swallowed, he started on a second. It was only men of his +sort who ever have any luck. +</p> + +<p> +It was in June of that year that Nana was confirmed. She was then nearly +thirteen years old, as tall as an asparagus shoot run to seed, and had a bold, +impudent air about her. The year before she had been sent away from the +catechism class on account of her bad behavior; and the priest had only allowed +her to join it this time through fear of losing her altogether, and of casting +one more heathen onto the street. Nana danced for joy as she thought of the +white dress. The Lorilleuxs, being godfather and godmother, had promised to +provide it, and took care to let everyone in the house know of their present. +Madame Lerat was to give the veil and the cap, Virginie the purse, and Lantier +the prayer-book; so that the Coupeaus looked forward to the ceremony without +any great anxiety. Even the Poissons, wishing to give a house-warming, chose +this occasion, no doubt on the hatter’s advice. They invited the Coupeaus +and the Boches, whose little girl was also going to be confirmed. They provided +a leg of mutton and trimmings for the evening in question. +</p> + +<p> +It so happened that on the evening before, Coupeau returned home in a most +abominable condition, just as Nana was lost in admiration before the presents +spread out on the top of the chest of drawers. The Paris atmosphere was getting +the better of him again; and he fell foul of his wife and child with drunken +arguments and disgusting language which no one should have uttered at such a +time. Nana herself was beginning to get hold of some very bad expressions in +the midst of the filthy conversations she was continually hearing. On the days +when there was a row, she would often call her mother an old camel and a cow. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s my food?” yelled the zinc-worker. “I want my +soup, you couple of jades! There’s females for you, always thinking of +finery! I’ll sit on the gee-gaws, you know, if I don’t get my +soup!” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s unbearable when he’s drunk,” murmured Gervaise, +out of patience; and turning towards him, she exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s warming up, don’t bother us.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana was being modest, because she thought it nice on such a day. She continued +to look at the presents on the chest of drawers, affectedly lowering her +eyelids and pretending not to understand her father’s naughty words. But +the zinc-worker was an awful plague on the nights when he had had too much. +Poking his face right against her neck, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll give you white dresses! So the finery tickles your fancy. +They excite your imagination. Just you cut away from there, you ugly little +brat! Move your hands about, bundle them all into a drawer!” +</p> + +<p> +Nana, with bowed head, did not answer a word. She had taken up the little tulle +cap and was asking her mother how much it cost. And as Coupeau thrust out his +hand to seize hold of the cap, it was Gervaise who pushed him aside exclaiming: +</p> + +<p> +“Do leave the child alone! She’s very good, she’s doing no +harm.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the zinc-worker let out in real earnest. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! the viragos! The mother and daughter, they make the pair. It’s +a nice thing to go to church just to leer at the men. Dare to say it +isn’t true, little slattern! I’ll dress you in a sack, just to +disgust you, you and your priests. I don’t want you to be taught anything +worse than you know already. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> Just listen to me, both of +you!” +</p> + +<p> +At this Nana turned round in a fury, whilst Gervaise had to spread out her arms +to protect the things which Coupeau talked of tearing. The child looked her +father straight in the face; then, forgetting the modest bearing inculcated by +her confessor, she said, clinching her teeth: “Pig!” +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the zinc-worker had had his soup he went off to sleep. On the morrow +he awoke in a very good humor. He still felt a little of the booze of the day +before but only just sufficient to make him amiable. He assisted at the +dressing of the child, deeply affected by the white dress and finding that a +mere nothing gave the little vermin quite the look of a young lady. +</p> + +<p> +The two families started off together for the church. Nana and Pauline walked +first, their prayer-books in their hands and holding down their veils on +account of the wind; they did not speak but were bursting with delight at +seeing people come to their shop-doors, and they smiled primly and devoutly +every time they heard anyone say as they passed that they looked very nice. +Madame Boche and Madame Lorilleux lagged behind, because they were +interchanging their ideas about Clump-clump, a gobble-all, whose daughter would +never have been confirmed if the relations had not found everything for her; +yes, everything, even a new chemise, out of respect for the holy altar. Madame +Lorilleux was rather concerned about the dress, calling Nana a dirty thing +every time the child got dust on her skirt by brushing against the store +fronts. +</p> + +<p> +At church Coupeau wept all the time. It was stupid but he could not help it. It +affected him to see the priest holding out his arms and all the little girls, +looking like angels, pass before him, clasping their hands; and the music of +the organ stirred up his stomach and the pleasant smell of the incense forced +him to sniff, the same as though someone had thrust a bouquet of flowers into +his face. In short he saw everything cerulean, his heart was touched. Anyway, +other sensitive souls around him were wetting their handkerchiefs. This was a +beautiful day, the most beautiful of his life. After leaving the church, +Coupeau went for a drink with Lorilleux, who had remained dry-eyed. +</p> + +<p> +That evening the Poissons’ house-warming was very lively. Friendship +reigned without a hitch from one end of the feast to the other. When bad times +arrive one thus comes in for some pleasant evenings, hours during which sworn +enemies love each other. Lantier, with Gervaise on his left and Virginie on his +right, was most amiable to both of them, lavishing little tender caresses like +a cock who desires peace in his poultry-yard. But the queens of the feast were +the two little ones, Nana and Pauline, who had been allowed to keep on their +things; they sat bolt upright through fear of spilling anything on their white +dresses and at every mouthful they were told to hold up their chins so as to +swallow cleanly. Nana, greatly bored by all this fuss, ended by slobbering her +wine over the body of her dress, so it was taken off and the stains were at +once washed out in a glass of water. +</p> + +<p> +Then at dessert the children’s future careers were gravely discussed. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Boche had decided that Pauline would enter a shop to learn how to punch +designs on gold and silver. That paid five or six francs a day. Gervaise +didn’t know yet because Nana had never indicated any preference. +</p> + +<p> +“In your place,” said Madame Lerat, “I would bring Nana up as +an artificial flower-maker. It is a pleasant and clean employment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Flower-makers?” muttered Lorilleux. “Every one of them might +as well walk the streets.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what about me?” objected Madame Lerat, pursing her lips. +“You’re certainly not very polite. I assure you that I don’t +lie down for anyone who whistles.” +</p> + +<p> +Then all the rest joined together in hushing her. “Madame Lerat! Oh, +Madame Lerat!” By side glances they reminded her of the two girls, fresh +from communion, who were burying their noses in their glasses to keep from +laughing out loud. The men had been very careful, for propriety’s sake, +to use only suitable language, but Madame Lerat refused to follow their +example. She flattered herself on her command of language, as she had often +been complimented on the way she could say anything before children, without +any offence to decency. +</p> + +<p> +“Just you listen, there are some very fine women among the +flower-makers!” she insisted. “They’re just like other women +and they show good taste when they choose to commit a sin.” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mon Dieu!</i>” interrupted Gervaise, “I’ve no +dislike for artificial flower-making. Only it must please Nana, that’s +all I care about; one should never thwart children on the question of a +vocation. Come Nana, don’t be stupid; tell me now, would you like to make +flowers?” +</p> + +<p> +The child was leaning over her plate gathering up the cake crumbs with her wet +finger, which she afterwards sucked. She did not hurry herself. She grinned in +her vicious way. +</p> + +<p> +“Why yes, mamma, I should like to,” she ended by declaring. +</p> + +<p> +Then the matter was at once settled. Coupeau was quite willing that Madame +Lerat should take the child with her on the morrow to the place where she +worked in the Rue du Caire. And they all talked very gravely of the duties of +life. Boche said that Nana and Pauline were women now that they had partaken of +communion. Poisson added that for the future they ought to know how to cook, +mend socks and look after a house. Something was even said of their marrying, +and of the children they would some day have. The youngsters listened, laughing +to themselves, elated by the thought of being women. What pleased them the most +was when Lantier teased them, asking if they didn’t already have little +husbands. Nana eventually admitted that she cared a great deal for Victor +Fauconnier, son of her mother’s employer. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah well,” said Madame Lorilleux to the Boches, as they were all +leaving, “she’s our goddaughter, but as they’re going to put +her into artificial flower-making, we don’t wish to have anything more to +do with her. Just one more for the boulevards. She’ll be leading them a +merry chase before six months are over.” +</p> + +<p> +On going up to bed, the Coupeaus agreed that everything had passed off well and +that the Poissons were not at all bad people. Gervaise even considered the shop +was nicely got up. She was surprised to discover that it hadn’t pained +her at all to spend an evening there. While Nana was getting ready for bed she +contemplated her white dress and asked her mother if the young lady on the +third floor had had one like it when she was married last month. +</p> + +<p> +This was their last happy day. Two years passed by, during which they sank +deeper and deeper. The winters were especially hard for them. If they had bread +to eat during the fine weather, the rain and cold came accompanied by famine, +by drubbings before the empty cupboard, and by dinner-hours with nothing to eat +in the little Siberia of their larder. Villainous December brought numbing +freezing spells and the black misery of cold and dampness. +</p> + +<p> +The first winter they occasionally had a fire, choosing to keep warm rather +than to eat. But the second winter, the stove stood mute with its rust, adding +a chill to the room, standing there like a cast-iron gravestone. And what took +the life out of their limbs, what above all utterly crushed them was the rent. +Oh! the January quarter, when there was not a radish in the house and old Boche +came up with the bill! It was like a bitter storm, a regular tempest from the +north. Monsieur Marescot then arrived the following Saturday, wrapped up in a +good warm overcoat, his big hands hidden in woolen gloves; and he was for ever +talking of turning them out, whilst the snow continued to fall outside, as +though it were preparing a bed for them on the pavement with white sheets. To +have paid the quarter’s rent they would have sold their very flesh. It +was the rent which emptied the larder and the stove. +</p> + +<p> +No doubt the Coupeaus had only themselves to blame. Life may be a hard fight, +but one always pulls through when one is orderly and economical—witness +the Lorilleuxs, who paid their rent to the day, the money folded up in bits of +dirty paper. But they, it is true, led a life of starved spiders, which would +disgust one with hard work. Nana as yet earned nothing at flower-making; she +even cost a good deal for her keep. At Madame Fauconnier’s Gervaise was +beginning to be looked down upon. She was no longer so expert. She bungled her +work to such an extent that the mistress had reduced her wages to two francs a +day, the price paid to the clumsiest bungler. But she was still proud, +reminding everyone of her former status as boss of her own shop. When Madame +Fauconnier hired Madame Putois, Gervaise was so annoyed at having to work +beside her former employee that she stayed away for two weeks. +</p> + +<p> +As for Coupeau, he did perhaps work, but in that case he certainly made a +present of his labor to the Government, for since the time he returned from +Etampes Gervaise had never seen the color of his money. She no longer looked in +his hands when he came home on paydays. He arrived swinging his arms, his +pockets empty, and often without his handkerchief; well, yes, he had lost his +rag, or else some rascally comrade had sneaked it. At first he always fibbed; +there was a donation to charity, or some money slipped through the hole in his +pocket, or he paid off some imaginary debts. Later, he didn’t even bother +to make up anything. He had nothing left because it had all gone into his +stomach. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Boche suggested to Gervaise that she go to wait for him at the shop +exit. This rarely worked though, because Coupeau’s comrades would warn +him and the money would disappear into his shoe or someone else’s pocket. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, it was their own fault if every season found them lower and lower. But +that’s the sort of thing one never tells oneself, especially when one is +down in the mire. They accused their bad luck; they pretended that fate was +against them. Their home had become a regular shambles where they wrangled the +whole day long. However, they had not yet come to blows, with the exception of +a few impulsive smacks, which somehow flew about at the height of their +quarrels. The saddest part of the business was that they had opened the cage of +affection; all their better feelings had taken flight, like so many canaries. +The genial warmth of father, mother and child, when united together and wrapped +up in each other, deserted them, and left them shivering, each in his or her +own corner. All three—Coupeau, Gervaise and Nana—were always in the +most abominable tempers, biting each other’s noses off for nothing at +all, their eyes full of hatred; and it seemed as though something had broken +the mainspring of the family, the mechanism which, with happy people, causes +hearts to beat in unison. Ah! it was certain Gervaise was no longer moved as +she used to be when she saw Coupeau at the edge of a roof forty or fifty feet +above the pavement. She would not have pushed him off herself, but if he had +fallen accidentally, in truth it would have freed the earth of one who was of +but little account. The days when they were more especially at enmity she would +ask him why he didn’t come back on a stretcher. She was awaiting it. It +would be her good luck they were bringing back to her. What use was +he—that drunkard? To make her weep, to devour all she possessed, to drive +her to sin. Well! Men so useless as he should be thrown as quickly as possible +into the hole and the polka of deliverance be danced over them. And when the +mother said “Kill him!” the daughter responded “Knock him on +the head!” Nana read all of the reports of accidents in the newspapers, +and made reflections that were unnatural for a girl. Her father had such good +luck an omnibus had knocked him down without even sobering him. Would the +beggar never croak? +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of her own poverty Gervaise suffered even more because other +families around her were also starving to death. Their corner of the tenement +housed the most wretched. There was not a family that ate every day. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise felt the most pity for Pere Bru in his cubbyhole under the staircase +where he hibernated. Sometimes he stayed on his bed of straw without moving for +days. Even hunger no longer drove him out since there was no use taking a walk +when no one would invite him to dinner. Whenever he didn’t show his face +for several days, the neighbors would push open his door to see if his troubles +were over. No, he was still alive, just barely. Even Death seemed to have +neglected him. Whenever Gervaise had any bread she gave him the crusts. Even +when she hated all men because of her husband, she still felt sincerely sorry +for Pere Bru, the poor old man. They were letting him starve to death because +he could no longer hold tools in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +The laundress also suffered a great deal from the close neighborhood of +Bazouge, the undertaker’s helper. A simple partition, and a very thin +one, separated the two rooms. He could not put his fingers down his throat +without her hearing it. As soon as he came home of an evening she listened, in +spite of herself, to everything he did. His black leather hat laid with a dull +thud on the chest of drawers, like a shovelful of earth; the black cloak hung +up and rustling against the walls like the wings of some night bird; all the +black toggery flung into the middle of the room and filling it with the +trappings of mourning. She heard him stamping about, felt anxious at the least +movement, and was quite startled if he knocked against the furniture or rattled +any of his crockery. This confounded drunkard was her preoccupation, filling +her with a secret fear mingled with a desire to know. He, jolly, his belly full +every day, his head all upside down, coughed, spat, sang “Mother +Godichon,” made use of many dirty expressions and fought with the four +walls before finding his bedstead. And she remained quite pale, wondering what +he could be doing in there. She imagined the most atrocious things. She got +into her head that he must have brought a corpse home, and was stowing it away +under his bedstead. Well! the newspapers had related something of the +kind—an undertaker’s helper who collected the coffins of little +children at his home, so as to save himself trouble and to make only one +journey to the cemetery. +</p> + +<p> +For certain, directly Bazouge arrived, a smell of death seemed to permeate the +partition. One might have thought oneself lodging against the Pere Lachaise +cemetery, in the midst of the kingdom of moles. He was frightful, the animal, +continually laughing all by himself, as though his profession enlivened him. +Even when he had finished his rumpus and had laid himself on his back, he +snored in a manner so extraordinary that it caused the laundress to hold her +breath. For hours she listened attentively, with an idea that funerals were +passing through her neighbor’s room. +</p> + +<p> +The worst was that, in spite of her terrors, something incited Gervaise to put +her ear to the wall, the better to find out what was taking place. Bazouge had +the same effect on her as handsome men have on good women: they would like to +touch them. Well! if fear had not kept her back, Gervaise would have liked to +have handled death, to see what it was like. She became so peculiar at times, +holding her breath, listening attentively, expecting to unravel the secret +through one of Bazouge’s movements, that Coupeau would ask her with a +chuckle if she had a fancy for that gravedigger next door. She got angry and +talked of moving, the close proximity of this neighbor was so distasteful to +her; and yet, in spite of herself, as soon as the old chap arrived, smelling +like a cemetery, she became wrapped again in her reflections, with the excited +and timorous air of a wife thinking of passing a knife through the marriage +contract. Had he not twice offered to pack her up and carry her off with him to +some place where the enjoyment of sleep is so great, that in a moment one +forgets all one’s wretchedness? Perhaps it was really very pleasant. +Little by little the temptation to taste it became stronger. She would have +liked to have tried it for a fortnight or a month. Oh! to sleep a month, +especially in winter, the month when the rent became due, when the troubles of +life were killing her! But it was not possible—one must sleep forever, if +one commences to sleep for an hour; and the thought of this froze her, her +desire for death departed before the eternal and stern friendship which the +earth demanded. +</p> + +<p> +However, one evening in January she knocked with both her fists against the +partition. She had passed a frightful week, hustled by everyone, without a sou, +and utterly discouraged. That evening she was not at all well, she shivered +with fever, and seemed to see flames dancing about her. Then, instead of +throwing herself out of the window, as she had at one moment thought of doing, +she set to knocking and calling: +</p> + +<p> +“Old Bazouge! Old Bazouge!” +</p> + +<p> +The undertaker’s helper was taking off his shoes and singing, +“There were three lovely girls.” He had probably had a good day, +for he seemed even more maudlin than usual. +</p> + +<p> +“Old Bazouge! Old Bazouge!” repeated Gervaise, raising her voice. +</p> + +<p> +Did he not hear her then? She was ready to give herself at once; he might come +and take her on his neck, and carry her off to the place where he carried his +other women, the poor and the rich, whom he consoled. It pained her to hear his +song, “There were three lovely girls,” because she discerned in it +the disdain of a man with too many sweethearts. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it? what is it?” stuttered Bazouge; “who’s +unwell? We’re coming, little woman!” +</p> + +<p> +But the sound of this husky voice awoke Gervaise as though from a nightmare. +And a feeling of horror ascended from her knees to her shoulders at the thought +of seeing herself lugged along in the old fellow’s arms, all stiff and +her face as white as a china plate. +</p> + +<p> +“Well! is there no one there now?” resumed Bazouge in silence. +“Wait a bit, we’re always ready to oblige the ladies.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s nothing, nothing,” said the laundress at length in a +choking voice. “I don’t require anything, thanks.” +</p> + +<p> +She remained anxious, listening to old Bazouge grumbling himself to sleep, +afraid to stir for fear he would think he heard her knocking again. +</p> + +<p> +In her corner of misery, in the midst of her cares and the cares of others, +Gervaise had, however, a beautiful example of courage in the home of her +neighbors, the Bijards. Little Lalie, only eight years old and no larger than a +sparrow, took care of the household as competently as a grown person. The job +was not an easy one because she had two little tots, her brother Jules and her +sister Henriette, aged three and five, to watch all day long while sweeping and +cleaning. +</p> + +<p> +Ever since Bijard had killed his wife with a kick in the stomach, Lalie had +become the little mother of them all. Without saying a word, and of her own +accord, she filled the place of one who had gone, to the extent that her brute +of a father, no doubt to complete the resemblance, now belabored the daughter +as he had formerly belabored the mother. Whenever he came home drunk, he +required a woman to massacre. He did not even notice that Lalie was quite +little; he would not have beaten some old trollop harder. Little Lalie, so thin +it made you cry, took it all without a word of complaint in her beautiful, +patient eyes. Never would she revolt. She bent her neck to protect her face and +stifled her sobs so as not to alarm the neighbors. When her father got tired of +kicking her, she would rest a bit until she got her strength back and then +resume her work. It was part of her job, being beaten daily. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise entertained a great friendship for her little neighbor. She treated +her as an equal, as a grown-up woman of experience. It must be said that Lalie +had a pale and serious look, with the expression of an old girl. One might have +thought her thirty on hearing her speak. She knew very well how to buy things, +mend the clothes, attend to the home, and she spoke of the children as though +she had already gone through two or three nurseries in her time. It made people +smile to hear her talk thus at eight years old; and then a lump would rise in +their throats, and they would hurry away so as not to burst out crying. +Gervaise drew the child towards her as much as she could, gave her all she +could spare of food and old clothing. One day as she tried one of Nana’s +old dresses on her, she almost choked with anger on seeing her back covered +with bruises, the skin off her elbow, which was still bleeding, and all her +innocent flesh martyred and sticking to her bones. Well! Old Bazouge could get +a box ready; she would not last long at that rate! But the child had begged the +laundress not to say a word. She would not have her father bothered on her +account. She took his part, affirming that he would not have been so wicked if +it had not been for the drink. He was mad, he did not know what he did. Oh! she +forgave him, because one ought to forgive madmen everything. +</p> + +<p> +From that time Gervaise watched and prepared to interfere directly she heard +Bijard coming up the stairs. But on most of the occasions she only caught some +whack for her trouble. When she entered their room in the day-time, she often +found Lalie tied to the foot of the iron bedstead; it was an idea of the +locksmith’s, before going out, to tie her legs and her body with some +stout rope, without anyone being able to find out why—a mere whim of a +brain diseased by drink, just for the sake, no doubt, of maintaining his +tyranny over the child when he was no longer there. Lalie, as stiff as a stake, +with pins and needles in her legs, remained whole days at the post. She once +even passed a night there, Bijard having forgotten to come home. Whenever +Gervaise, carried away by her indignation, talked of unfastening her, she +implored her not to disturb the rope, because her father became furious if he +did not find the knots tied the same way he had left them. Really, it +wasn’t so bad, it gave her a rest. She smiled as she said this though her +legs were swollen and bruised. What upset her the most was that she +couldn’t do her work while tied to the bed. She could watch the children +though, and even did some knitting, so as not to entirely waste the time. +</p> + +<p> +The locksmith had thought of another little game too. He heated sous in the +frying pan, then placed them on a corner of the mantle-piece; and he called +Lalie, and told her to fetch a couple of pounds of bread. The child took up the +sous unsuspectingly, uttered a cry and threw them on the ground, shaking her +burnt hand. Then he flew into a fury. Who had saddled him with such a piece of +carrion? She lost the money now! And he threatened to beat her to a jelly if +she did not pick the sous up at once. When the child hesitated she received the +first warning, a clout of such force that it made her see thirty-six candles. +Speechless and with two big tears in the corners of her eyes, she would pick up +the sous and go off, tossing them in the palm of her hand to cool them. +</p> + +<p> +No, one could never imagine the ferocious ideas which may sprout from the +depths of a drunkard’s brain. One afternoon, for instance, Lalie having +made everything tidy was playing with the children. The window was open, there +was a draught, and the wind blowing along the passage gently shook the door. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Monsieur Hardy,” the child was saying. “Come in, +Monsieur Hardy. Pray have the kindness to walk in.” +</p> + +<p> +And she curtsied before the door, she bowed to the wind. Henriette and Jules, +behind her, also bowed, delighted with the game and splitting their sides with +laughing, as though being tickled. She was quite rosy at seeing them so +heartily amused and even found some pleasure in it on her own account, which +generally only happened to her on the thirty-sixth day of each month. +</p> + +<p> +“Good day, Monsieur Hardy. How do you do, Monsieur Hardy?” +</p> + +<p> +But a rough hand pushed open the door, and Bijard entered. Then the scene +changed. Henriette and Jules fell down flat against the wall; whilst Lalie, +terrified, remained standing in the very middle of the curtsey. The locksmith +held in his hand a big waggoner’s whip, quite new, with a long white +wooden handle, and a leather thong, terminating with a bit of whip-cord. He +placed the whip in the corner against the bed and did not give the usual kick +to the child who was already preparing herself by presenting her back. A +chuckle exposed his blackened teeth and he was very lively, very drunk, his red +face lighted up by some idea that amused him immensely. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” said he. “You’re playing the +deuce, eh, you confounded young hussy! I could hear you dancing about from +downstairs. Now then, come here! Nearer and full face. I don’t want to +sniff you from behind. Am I touching you that you tremble like a mass of +giblets? Take my shoes off.” +</p> + +<p> +Lalie turned quite pale again and, amazed at not receiving her usual drubbing, +took his shoes off. He had seated himself on the edge of the bed. He lay down +with his clothes on and remained with his eyes open, watching the child move +about the room. She busied herself with one thing and another, gradually +becoming bewildered beneath his glance, her limbs overcome by such a fright +that she ended by breaking a cup. Then, without getting off the bed, he took +hold of the whip and showed it to her. +</p> + +<p> +“See, little chickie, look at this. It’s a present for you. Yes, +it’s another fifty sous you’ve cost me. With this plaything I shall +no longer be obliged to run after you, and it’ll be no use you getting +into the corners. Will you have a try? Ah! you broke a cup! Now then, gee up! +Dance away, make your curtsies to Monsieur Hardy!” +</p> + +<p> +He did not even raise himself but lay sprawling on his back, his head buried in +his pillow, making the big whip crack about the room with the noise of a +postillion starting his horses. Then, lowering his arm he lashed Lalie in the +middle of the body, encircling her with the whip and unwinding it again as +though she were a top. She fell and tried to escape on her hands and knees; but +lashing her again he jerked her to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Gee up, gee up!” yelled he. “It’s the donkey race! Eh, +it’ll be fine of a cold morning in winter. I can lie snug without getting +cold or hurting my chilblains and catch the calves from a distance. In that +corner there, a hit, you hussy! And in that other corner, a hit again! And in +that one, another hit. Ah! if you crawl under the bed I’ll whack you with +the handle. Gee up, you jade! Gee up! Gee up!” +</p> + +<p> +A slight foam came to his lips, his yellow eyes were starting from their black +orbits. Lalie, maddened, howling, jumped to the four corners of the room, +curled herself up on the floor and clung to the walls; but the lash at the end +of the big whip caught her everywhere, cracking against her ears with the noise +of fireworks, streaking her flesh with burning weals. A regular dance of the +animal being taught its tricks. This poor kitten waltzed. It was a sight! Her +heels in the air like little girls playing at skipping, and crying +“Father!” She was all out of breath, rebounding like an +india-rubber ball, letting herself be beaten, unable to see or any longer to +seek a refuge. And her wolf of a father triumphed, calling her a virago, asking +her if she had had enough and whether she understood sufficiently that she was +in future to give up all hope of escaping from him. +</p> + +<p> +But Gervaise suddenly entered the room, attracted by the child’s howls. +On beholding such a scene she was seized with a furious indignation. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you brute of a man!” cried she. “Leave her alone, you +brigand! I’ll put the police on to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Bijard growled like an animal being disturbed, and stuttered: +</p> + +<p> +“Mind your own business a bit, Limper. Perhaps you’d like me to put +gloves on when I stir her up. It’s merely to warm her, as you can plainly +see—simply to show her that I’ve a long arm.” +</p> + +<p> +And he gave a final lash with the whip which caught Lalie across the face. The +upper lip was cut, the blood flowed. Gervaise had seized a chair, and was about +to fall on to the locksmith; but the child held her hands towards her +imploringly, saying that it was nothing and that it was all over. She wiped +away the blood with the corner of her apron and quieted the babies, who were +sobbing bitterly, as though they had received all the blows. +</p> + +<p> +Whenever Gervaise thought of Lalie, she felt she had no right to complain for +herself. She wished she had as much patient courage as the little girl who was +only eight years old and had to endure more than the rest of the women on their +staircase put together. She had seen Lalie living on stale bread for months and +growing thinner and weaker. Whenever she smuggled some remnants of meat to +Lalie, it almost broke her heart to see the child weeping silently and nibbling +it down only by little bits because her throat was so shrunken. Gervaise looked +on Lalie as a model of suffering and forgiveness and tried to learn from her +how to suffer in silence. +</p> + +<p> +In the Coupeau household the vitriol of l’Assommoir was also commencing +its ravages. Gervaise could see the day coming when her husband would get a +whip like Bijard’s to make her dance. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, Coupeau was spinning an evil thread. The time was past when a drink would +make him feel good. His unhealthy soft fat of earlier years had melted away and +he was beginning to wither and turn a leaden grey. He seemed to have a greenish +tint like a corpse putrefying in a pond. He no longer had a taste for food, not +even the most beautifully prepared stew. His stomach would turn and his decayed +teeth refuse to touch it. A pint a day was his daily ration, the only +nourishment he could digest. When he awoke in the mornings he sat coughing and +spitting up bile for at least a quarter of an hour. It never failed, you might +as well have the basin ready. He was never steady on his pins till after his +first glass of consolation, a real remedy, the fire of which cauterized his +bowels; but during the day his strength returned. At first he would feel a +tickling sensation, a sort of pins-and-needles in his hands and feet; and he +would joke, relating that someone was having a lark with him, that he was sure +his wife put horse-hair between the sheets. Then his legs would become heavy, +the tickling sensation would end by turning into the most abominable cramps, +which gripped his flesh as though in a vise. That though did not amuse him so +much. He no longer laughed; he stopped suddenly on the pavement in a bewildered +way with a ringing in his ears and his eyes blinded with sparks. Everything +appeared to him to be yellow; the houses danced and he reeled about for three +seconds with the fear of suddenly finding himself sprawling on the ground. At +other times, while the sun was shining full on his back, he would shiver as +though iced water had been poured down his shoulders. What bothered him the +most was a slight trembling of both his hands; the right hand especially must +have been guilty of some crime, it suffered from so many nightmares. <i>Mon +Dieu!</i> was he then no longer a man? He was becoming an old woman! He +furiously strained his muscles, he seized hold of his glass and bet that he +would hold it perfectly steady as with a hand of marble; but in spite of his +efforts the glass danced about, jumped to the right, jumped to the left with a +hurried and regular trembling movement. Then in a fury he emptied it into his +gullet, yelling that he would require dozens like it, and afterwards he +undertook to carry a cask without so much as moving a finger. Gervaise, on the +other hand, told him to give up drink if he wished to cease trembling, and he +laughed at her, emptying quarts until he experienced the sensation again, +flying into a rage and accusing the passing omnibuses of shaking up his liquor. +</p> + +<p> +In the month of March Coupeau returned home one evening soaked through. He had +come with My-Boots from Montrouge, where they had stuffed themselves full of +eel soup, and he had received the full force of the shower all the way from the +Barriere des Fourneaux to the Barriere Poissonniere, a good distance. During +the night he was seized with a confounded fit of coughing. He was very flushed, +suffering from a violent fever and panting like a broken bellows. When the +Boches’ doctor saw him in the morning and listened against his back he +shook his head, and drew Gervaise aside to advise her to have her husband taken +to the hospital. Coupeau was suffering from pneumonia. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise did not worry herself, you may be sure. At one time she would have +been chopped into pieces before trusting her old man to the saw-bones. After +the accident in the Rue de la Nation she had spent their savings in nursing +him. But those beautiful sentiments don’t last when men take to wallowing +in the mire. No, no; she did not intend to make a fuss like that again. They +might take him and never bring him back; she would thank them heartily. Yet, +when the litter arrived and Coupeau was put into it like an article of +furniture, she became all pale and bit her lips; and if she grumbled and still +said it was a good job, her heart was no longer in her words. Had she but ten +francs in her drawer she would not have let him go. +</p> + +<p> +She accompanied him to the Lariboisiere Hospital, saw the nurses put him to bed +at the end of a long hall, where the patients in a row, looking like corpses, +raised themselves up and followed with their eyes the comrade who had just been +brought in. It was a veritable death chamber. There was a suffocating, feverish +odor and a chorus of coughing. The long hall gave the impression of a small +cemetery with its double row of white beds looking like an aisle of marble +tombs. When Coupeau remained motionless on his pillow, Gervaise left, having +nothing to say, nor anything in her pocket that could comfort him. +</p> + +<p> +Outside, she turned to look up at the monumental structure of the hospital and +recalled the days when Coupeau was working there, putting on the zinc roof, +perched up high and singing in the sun. He wasn’t drinking in those days. +She used to watch for him from her window in the Hotel Boncoeur and they would +both wave their handkerchiefs in greeting. Now, instead of being on the roof +like a cheerful sparrow, he was down below. He had built his own place in the +hospital where he had come to die. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> It all seemed so far way +now, that time of young love. +</p> + +<p> +On the day after the morrow, when Gervaise called to obtain news of him, she +found the bed empty. A Sister of Charity told her that they had been obliged to +remove her husband to the Asylum of Sainte-Anne, because the day before he had +suddenly gone wild. Oh! a total leave-taking of his senses; attempts to crack +his skull against the wall; howls which prevented the other patients from +sleeping. It all came from drink, it seemed. Gervaise went home very upset. +Well, her husband had gone crazy. What would it be like if he came home? Nana +insisted that they should leave him in the hospital because he might end by +killing both of them. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was not able to go to Sainte-Anne until Sunday. It was a tremendous +journey. Fortunately, the omnibus from the Boulevard Rochechouart to La +Glaciere passed close to the asylum. She went down the Rue de la Sante, buying +two oranges on her way, so as not to arrive empty-handed. It was another +monumental building, with grey courtyards, interminable corridors and a smell +of rank medicaments, which did not exactly inspire liveliness. But when they +had admitted her into a cell she was quite surprised to see Coupeau almost +jolly. He was just then seated on the throne, a spotlessly clean wooden case, +and they both laughed at her finding him in this position. Well, one knows what +an invalid is. He squatted there like a pope with his cheek of earlier days. +Oh! he was better, as he could do this. +</p> + +<p> +“And the pneumonia?” inquired the laundress. +</p> + +<p> +“Done for!” replied he. “They cured it in no time. I still +cough a little, but that’s all that is left of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Then at the moment of leaving the throne to get back into his bed, he joked +once more. “It’s lucky you have a strong nose and are not +bothered.” +</p> + +<p> +They laughed louder than ever. At heart they felt joyful. It was by way of +showing their contentment without a host of phrases that they thus joked +together. One must have had to do with patients to know the pleasure one feels +at seeing all their functions at work again. +</p> + +<p> +When he was back in bed she gave him the two oranges and this filled him with +emotion. He was becoming quite nice again ever since he had had nothing but +tisane to drink. She ended by venturing to speak to him about his violent +attack, surprised at hearing him reason like in the good old times. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, yes,” said he, joking at his own expense; “I talked a +precious lot of nonsense! Just fancy, I saw rats and ran about on all fours to +put a grain of salt under their tails. And you, you called to me, men were +trying to kill you. In short, all sorts of stupid things, ghosts in broad +daylight. Oh! I remember it well, my noodle’s still solid. Now it’s +over, I dream a bit when I’m asleep. I have nightmares, but everyone has +nightmares.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise remained with him until the evening. When the house surgeon came, at +the six o’clock inspection, he made him spread his hands; they hardly +trembled at all, scarcely a quiver at the tips of the fingers. However, as +night approached, Coupeau was little by little seized with uneasiness. He twice +sat up in bed looking on the ground and in the dark corners of the room. +Suddenly he thrust out an arm and appeared to crush some vermin against the +wall. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” asked Gervaise, frightened. +</p> + +<p> +“The rats! The rats!” murmured he. +</p> + +<p> +Then, after a pause, gliding into sleep, he tossed about, uttering disconnected +phrases. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mon Dieu!</i> they’re tearing my skin!—Oh! the filthy +beasts!—Keep steady! Hold your skirts right round you! beware of the +dirty bloke behind you!—<i>Mon Dieu!</i> she’s down and the +scoundrels laugh!—Scoundrels! Blackguards! Brigands!” +</p> + +<p> +He dealt blows into space, caught hold of his blanket and rolled it into a +bundle against his chest, as though to protect the latter from the violence of +the bearded men whom he beheld. Then, an attendant having hastened to the spot, +Gervaise withdrew, quite frozen by the scene. +</p> + +<p> +But when she returned a few days later, she found Coupeau completely cured. +Even the nightmares had left him; he could sleep his ten hours right off as +peacefully as a child and without stirring a limb. So his wife was allowed to +take him away. The house surgeon gave him the usual good advice on leaving and +advised him to follow it. If he recommenced drinking, he would again collapse +and would end by dying. Yes, it solely depended upon himself. He had seen how +jolly and healthy one could become when one did not get drunk. Well, he must +continue at home the sensible life he had led at Sainte-Anne, fancy himself +under lock and key and that dram-shops no longer existed. +</p> + +<p> +“The gentleman’s right,” said Gervaise in the omnibus which +was taking them back to the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course he’s right,” replied Coupeau. +</p> + +<p> +Then, after thinking a minute, he resumed: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! you know, a little glass now and again can’t kill a man; it +helps the digestion.” +</p> + +<p> +And that very evening he swallowed a glass of bad spirit, just to keep his +stomach in order. For eight days he was pretty reasonable. He was a great +coward at heart; he had no desire to end his days in the Bicetre mad-house. But +his passion got the better of him; the first little glass led him, in spite of +himself, to a second, to a third and to a fourth, and at the end of a +fortnight, he had got back to his old ration, a pint of vitriol a day. +Gervaise, exasperated, could have beaten him. To think that she had been stupid +enough to dream once more of leading a worthy life, just because she had seen +him at the asylum in full possession of his good sense! Another joyful hour had +flown, the last one no doubt! Oh! now, as nothing could reclaim him, not even +the fear of his near death, she swore she would no longer put herself out; the +home might be all at sixes and sevens, she did not care any longer; and she +talked also of leaving him. +</p> + +<p> +Then hell upon earth recommenced, a life sinking deeper into the mire, without +a glimmer of hope for something better to follow. Nana, whenever her father +clouted her, furiously asked why the brute was not at the hospital. She was +awaiting the time when she would be earning money, she would say, to treat him +to brandy and make him croak quicker. Gervaise, on her side, flew into a +passion one day that Coupeau was regretting their marriage. Ah! she had brought +him her saucy children; ah! she had got herself picked up from the pavement, +wheedling him with rosy dreams! <i>Mon Dieu!</i> he had a rare cheek! So many +words, so many lies. She hadn’t wished to have anything to do with him, +that was the truth. He had dragged himself at her feet to make her give way, +whilst she was advising him to think well what he was about. And if it was all +to come over again, he would hear how she would just say “no!” She +would sooner have an arm cut off. Yes, she’d had a lover before him; but +a woman who has had a lover, and who is a worker, is worth more than a sluggard +of a man who sullies his honor and that of his family in all the dram-shops. +That day, for the first time, the Coupeaus went in for a general brawl, and +they whacked each other so hard that an old umbrella and the broom were broken. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise kept her word. She sank lower and lower; she missed going to her work +oftener, spent whole days in gossiping, and became as soft as a rag whenever +she had a task to perform. If a thing fell from her hands, it might remain on +the floor; it was certainly not she who would have stooped to pick it up. She +took her ease about everything, and never handled a broom except when the +accumulation of filth almost brought her to the ground. The Lorilleuxs now made +a point of holding something to their noses whenever they passed her room; the +stench was poisonous, said they. Those hypocrites slyly lived at the end of the +passage, out of the way of all these miseries which filled the corner of the +house with whimpering, locking themselves in so as not to have to lend twenty +sou pieces. Oh! kind-hearted folks, neighbors awfully obliging! Yes, you may be +sure! One had only to knock and ask for a light or a pinch of salt or a jug of +water, one was certain of getting the door banged in one’s face. With all +that they had vipers’ tongues. They protested everywhere that they never +occupied themselves with other people. This was true whenever it was a question +of assisting a neighbor; but they did so from morning to night, directly they +had a chance of pulling any one to pieces. With the door bolted and a rug hung +up to cover the chinks and the key-hole, they would treat themselves to a +spiteful gossip without leaving their gold wire for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +The fall of Clump-clump in particular kept them purring like pet cats. +Completely ruined! Not a sou remaining. They smiled gleefully at the small +piece of bread she would bring back when she went shopping and kept count of +the days when she had nothing at all to eat. And the clothes she wore now. +Disgusting rags! That’s what happened when one tried to live high. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, who had an idea of the way in which they spoke of her, would take her +shoes off, and place her ear against their door; but the rug over the door +prevented her from hearing much. She was heartily sick of them; she continued +to speak to them, to avoid remarks, though expecting nothing but unpleasantness +from such nasty persons, but no longer having strength even to give them as +much as they gave her, passed the insults off as a lot of nonsense. And besides +she only wanted her own pleasure, to sit in a heap twirling her thumbs, and +only moving when it was a question of amusing herself, nothing more. +</p> + +<p> +One Saturday Coupeau had promised to take her to the circus. It was well worth +while disturbing oneself to see ladies galloping along on horses and jumping +through paper hoops. Coupeau had just finished a fortnight’s work, he +could well spare a couple of francs; and they had also arranged to dine out, +just the two of them, Nana having to work very late that evening at her +employer’s because of some pressing order. But at seven o’clock +there was no Coupeau; at eight o’clock it was still the same. Gervaise +was furious. Her drunkard was certainly squandering his earnings with his +comrades at the dram-shops of the neighborhood. She had washed a cap and had +been slaving since the morning over the holes of an old dress, wishing to look +decent. At last, towards nine o’clock, her stomach empty, her face purple +with rage, she decided to go down and look for Coupeau. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it your husband you want?” called Madame Boche, on catching +sight of Gervaise looking very glum. “He’s at Pere Colombe’s. +Boche has just been having some cherry brandy with him.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise uttered her thanks and stalked stiffly along the pavement with the +determination of flying at Coupeau’s eyes. A fine rain was falling which +made the walk more unpleasant still. But when she reached l’Assommoir, +the fear of receiving the drubbing herself if she badgered her old man suddenly +calmed her and made her prudent. The shop was ablaze with the lighted gas, the +flames of which were as brilliant as suns, and the bottles and jars illuminated +the walls with their colored glass. She stood there an instant stretching her +neck, her eyes close to the window, looking between two bottle placed there for +show, watching Coupeau who was right at the back; he was sitting with some +comrades at a little zinc table, all looking vague and blue in the tobacco +smoke; and, as one could not hear them yelling, it created a funny effect to +see them gesticulating with their chins thrust forward and their eyes starting +out of their heads. Good heavens! Was it really possible that men could leave +their wives and their homes to shut themselves up thus in a hole where they +were choking? +</p> + +<p> +The rain trickled down her neck; she drew herself up and went off to the +exterior Boulevard, wrapped in thought and not daring to enter. Ah! well +Coupeau would have welcomed her in a pleasant way, he who objected to be spied +upon! Besides, it really scarcely seemed to her the proper place for a +respectable woman. Twice she went back and stood before the shop window, her +eyes again riveted to the glass, annoyed at still beholding those confounded +drunkards out of the rain and yelling and drinking. The light of +l’Assommoir was reflected in the puddles on the pavement, which simmered +with little bubbles caused by the downpour. At length she thought she was too +foolish, and pushing open the door, she walked straight up to the table where +Coupeau was sitting. After all it was her husband she came for, was it not? And +she was authorized in doing so, because he had promised to take her to the +circus that evening. So much the worse! She had no desire to melt like a cake +of soap out on the pavement. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo! It’s you, old woman!” exclaimed the zinc-worker, half +choking with a chuckle. “Ah! that’s a good joke. Isn’t it a +good joke now?” +</p> + +<p> +All the company laughed. Gervaise remained standing, feeling rather bewildered. +Coupeau appeared to her to be in a pleasant humor, so she ventured to say: +</p> + +<p> +“You remember, we’ve somewhere to go. We must hurry. We shall still +be in time to see something.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t get up, I’m glued, oh! without joking,” +resumed Coupeau, who continued laughing. “Try, just to satisfy yourself; +pull my arm with all your strength; try it! harder than that, tug away, up with +it! You see it’s that louse Pere Colombe who’s screwed me to his +seat.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise had humored him at this game, and when she let go of his arm, the +comrades thought the joke so good that they tumbled up against one another, +braying and rubbing their shoulders like donkeys being groomed. The +zinc-worker’s mouth was so wide with laughter that you could see right +down his throat. +</p> + +<p> +“You great noodle!” said he at length, “you can surely sit +down a minute. You’re better here than splashing about outside. Well, +yes; I didn’t come home as I promised, I had business to attend to. +Though you may pull a long face, it won’t alter matters. Make room, you +others.” +</p> + +<p> +“If madame would accept my knees she would find them softer than the +seat,” gallantly said My-Boots. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, not wishing to attract attention, took a chair and sat down at a +short distance from the table. She looked at what the men were drinking, some +rotgut brandy which shone like gold in the glasses; a little of it had dropped +upon the table and Salted-Mouth, otherwise Drink-without-Thirst, dipped his +finger in it whilst conversing and wrote a woman’s +name—“Eulalie”—in big letters. She noticed that +Bibi-the-Smoker looked shockingly jaded and thinner than a hundred-weight of +nails. My-Boot’s nose was in full bloom, a regular purple Burgundy +dahlia. They were all quite dirty, their beards stiff, their smocks ragged and +stained, their hands grimy with dirt. Yet they were still quite polite. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise noticed a couple of men at the bar. They were so drunk that they were +spilling the drink down their chins when they thought they were wetting their +whistles. Fat Pere Colombe was calmly serving round after round. +</p> + +<p> +The atmosphere was very warm, the smoke from the pipes ascended in the blinding +glare of the gas, amidst which it rolled about like dust, drowning the +customers in a gradually thickening mist; and from this cloud there issued a +deafening and confused uproar, cracked voices, clinking of glasses, oaths and +blows sounding like detonations. So Gervaise pulled a very wry face, for such a +sight is not funny for a woman, especially when she is not used to it; she was +stifling, with a smarting sensation in her eyes, and her head already feeling +heavy from the alcoholic fumes exhaled by the whole place. Then she suddenly +experienced the sensation of something more unpleasant still behind her back. +She turned round and beheld the still, the machine which manufactured +drunkards, working away beneath the glass roof of the narrow courtyard with the +profound trepidation of its hellish cookery. Of an evening, the copper parts +looked more mournful than ever, lit up only on their rounded surface with one +big red glint; and the shadow of the apparatus on the wall at the back formed +most abominable figures, bodies with tails, monsters opening their jaws as +though to swallow everyone up. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, mother Talk-too-much, don’t make any of your +grimaces!” cried Coupeau. “To blazes, you know, with all wet +blankets! What’ll you drink?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, of course,” replied the laundress. “I haven’t +dined yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well! that’s all the more reason for having a glass; a drop of +something sustains one.” +</p> + +<p> +But, as she still retained her glum expression, My-Boots again did the gallant. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame probably likes sweet things,” murmured he. +</p> + +<p> +“I like men who don’t get drunk,” retorted she, getting +angry. “Yes, I like a fellow who brings home his earnings, and who keeps +his word when he makes a promise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! so that’s what upsets you?” said the zinc-worker, +without ceasing to chuckle. “Yes, you want your share. Then, big goose, +why do you refuse a drink? Take it, it’s so much to the good.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him fixedly, in a grave manner, a wrinkle marking her forehead +with a black line. And she slowly replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you’re right, it’s a good idea. That way, we can drink +up the coin together.” +</p> + +<p> +Bibi-the-Smoker rose from his seat to fetch her a glass of anisette. She drew +her chair up to the table. Whilst she was sipping her anisette, a recollection +suddenly flashed across her mind, she remembered the plum she had taken with +Coupeau, near the door, in the old days, when he was courting her. At that +time, she used to leave the juice of fruits preserved in brandy. And now, here +was she going back to liqueurs. Oh! she knew herself well, she had not two +thimblefuls of will. One would only have had to have given her a walloping +across the back to have made her regularly wallow in drink. The anisette even +seemed to be very good, perhaps rather too sweet and slightly sickening. She +went on sipping as she listened to Salted-Mouth, otherwise +Drink-without-Thirst, tell of his affair with fat Eulalie, a fish peddler and +very shrewd at locating him. Even if his comrades tried to hide him, she could +usually sniff him out when he was late. Just the night before she had slapped +his face with a flounder to teach him not to neglect going to work. +Bibi-the-Smoker and My-Boots nearly split their sides laughing. They slapped +Gervaise on the shoulder and she began to laugh also, finding it amusing in +spite of herself. They then advised her to follow Eulalie’s example and +bring an iron with her so as to press Coupeau’s ears on the counters of +the wineshops. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well, no thanks,” cried Coupeau as he turned upside down the +glass his wife had emptied. “You pump it out pretty well. Just look, you +fellows, she doesn’t take long over it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will madame take another?” asked Salted-Mouth, otherwise +Drink-without-Thirst. +</p> + +<p> +No, she had had enough. Yet she hesitated. The anisette had slightly bothered +her stomach. She should have taken straight brandy to settle her digestion. +</p> + +<p> +She cast side glances at the drunkard manufacturing machine behind her. That +confounded pot, as round as the stomach of a tinker’s fat wife, with its +nose that was so long and twisted, sent a shiver down her back, a fear mingled +with a desire. Yes, one might have thought it the metal pluck of some big +wicked woman, of some witch who was discharging drop by drop the fire of her +entrails. A fine source of poison, an operation which should have been hidden +away in a cellar, it was so brazen and abominable! But all the same she would +have liked to have poked her nose inside it, to have sniffed the odor, have +tasted the filth, though the skin might have peeled off her burnt tongue like +the rind off an orange. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that you’re drinking?” asked she slyly of the +men, her eyes lighted up by the beautiful golden color of their glasses. +</p> + +<p> +“That, old woman,” answered Coupeau, “is Pere Colombe’s +camphor. Don’t be silly now and we’ll give you a taste.” +</p> + +<p> +And when they had brought her a glass of the vitriol, the rotgut, and her jaws +had contracted at the first mouthful, the zinc-worker resumed, slapping his +thighs: +</p> + +<p> +“Ha! It tickles your gullet! Drink it off at one go. Each glassful cheats +the doctor of six francs.” +</p> + +<p> +At the second glass Gervaise no longer felt the hunger which had been +tormenting her. Now she had made it up with Coupeau, she no longer felt angry +with him for not having kept his word. They would go to the circus some other +day; it was not so funny to see jugglers galloping about on horses. There was +no rain inside Pere Colombe’s and if the money went in brandy, one at +least had it in one’s body; one drank it bright and shining like +beautiful liquid gold. Ah! she was ready to send the whole world to blazes! +Life was not so pleasant after all, besides it seemed some consolation to her +to have her share in squandering the cash. As she was comfortable, why should +she not remain? One might have a discharge of artillery; she did not care to +budge once she had settled in a heap. She nursed herself in a pleasant warmth, +her bodice sticking to her back, overcome by a feeling of comfort which +benumbed her limbs. She laughed all to herself, her elbows on the table, a +vacant look in her eyes, highly amused by two customers, a fat heavy fellow and +a tiny shrimp, seated at a neighboring table, and kissing each other lovingly. +Yes, she laughed at the things to see in l’Assommoir, at Pere +Colombe’s full moon face, a regular bladder of lard, at the customers +smoking their short clay pipes, yelling and spitting, and at the big flames of +gas which lighted up the looking-glasses and the bottles of liqueurs. The smell +no longer bothered her, on the contrary it tickled her nose, and she thought it +very pleasant. Her eyes slightly closed, whilst she breathed very slowly, +without the least feeling of suffocation, tasting the enjoyment of the gentle +slumber which was overcoming her. Then, after her third glass, she let her chin +fall on her hands; she now only saw Coupeau and his comrades, and she remained +nose to nose with them, quite close, her cheeks warmed by their breath, looking +at their dirty beards as though she had been counting the hairs. My-Boots +drooled, his pipe between his teeth, with the dumb and grave air of a dozing +ox. Bibi-the-Smoker was telling a story—the manner in which he emptied a +bottle at a draught, giving it such a kiss that one instantly saw its bottom. +Meanwhile Salted-Mouth, otherwise Drink-without-Thirst, had gone and fetched +the wheel of fortune from the counter, and was playing with Coupeau for drinks. +</p> + +<p> +“Two hundred! You’re lucky; you get high numbers every time!” +</p> + +<p> +The needle of the wheel grated, and the figure of Fortune, a big red woman +placed under glass, turned round and round until it looked like a mere spot in +the centre, similar to a wine stain. +</p> + +<p> +“Three hundred and fifty! You must have been inside it, you confounded +lascar! Ah! I shan’t play any more!” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise amused herself with the wheel of fortune. She was feeling awfully +thirsty, and calling My-Boots “my child.” Behind her the machine +for manufacturing drunkards continued working, with its murmur of an +underground stream; and she despaired of ever stopping it, of exhausting it, +filled with a sullen anger against it, feeling a longing to spring upon the big +still as upon some animal, to kick it with her heels and stave in its belly. +Then everything began to seem all mixed up. The machine seemed to be moving +itself and she thought she was being grabbed by its copper claws, and that the +underground stream was now flowing over her body. +</p> + +<p> +Then the room danced round, the gas-jets seemed to shoot like stars. Gervaise +was drunk. She heard a furious wrangle between Salted-Mouth, otherwise +Drink-without-Thirst, and that rascal Pere Colombe. There was a thief of a +landlord who wanted one to pay for what one had not had! Yet one was not at a +gangster’s hang-out. Suddenly there was a scuffling, yells were heard and +tables were upset. It was Pere Colombe who was turning the party out without +the least hesitation, and in the twinkling of an eye. On the other side of the +door they blackguarded him and called him a scoundrel. It still rained and blew +icy cold. Gervaise lost Coupeau, found him and then lost him again. She wished +to go home; she felt the shops to find her way. This sudden darkness surprised +her immensely. At the corner of the Rue des Poissonniers, she sat down in the +gutter thinking she was at the wash-house. The water which flowed along caused +her head to swim, and made her very ill. At length she arrived, she passed +stiffly before the concierge’s room where she perfectly recognized the +Lorilleuxs and the Poissons seated at the table having dinner, and who made +grimaces of disgust on beholding her in that sorry state. +</p> + +<p> +She never remembered how she had got up all those flights of stairs. Just as +she was turning into the passage at the top, little Lalie, who heard her +footsteps, hastened to meet her, opening her arms caressingly, and saying, with +a smile: +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Gervaise, papa has not returned. Just come and see my little +children sleeping. Oh! they look so pretty!” +</p> + +<p> +But on beholding the laundress’ besotted face, she tremblingly drew back. +She was acquainted with that brandy-laden breath, those pale eyes, that +convulsed mouth. Then Gervaise stumbled past without uttering a word, whilst +the child, standing on the threshold of her room, followed her with her dark +eyes, grave and speechless. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"></a> +CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p> +Nana was growing up and becoming wayward. At fifteen years old she had expanded +like a calf, white-skinned and very fat; so plump, indeed, you might have +called her a pincushion. Yes, such she was—fifteen years old, full of +figure and no stays. A saucy magpie face, dipped in milk, a skin as soft as a +peach skin, a funny nose, pink lips and eyes sparkling like tapers, which men +would have liked to light their pipes at. Her pile of fair hair, the color of +fresh oats, seemed to have scattered gold dust over her temples, freckle-like +as it were, giving her brow a sunny crown. Ah! a pretty doll, as the Lorilleuxs +say, a dirty nose that needed wiping, with fat shoulders, which were as fully +rounded and as powerful as those of a full-grown woman. Nana no longer needed +to stuff wads of paper into her bodice, her breasts were grown. She wished they +were larger though, and dreamed of having breasts like a wet-nurse. +</p> + +<p> +What made her particularly tempting was a nasty habit she had of protruding the +tip of her tongue between her white teeth. No doubt on seeing herself in the +looking-glasses she had thought she was pretty like this; and so, all day long, +she poked her tongue out of her mouth, in view of improving her appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“Hide your lying tongue!” cried her mother. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau would often get involved, pounding his fist, swearing and shouting: +</p> + +<p> +“Make haste and draw that red rag inside again!” +</p> + +<p> +Nana showed herself very coquettish. She did not always wash her feet, but she +bought such tight boots that she suffered martyrdom in St. Crispin’s +prison; and if folks questioned her when she turned purple with pain, she +answered that she had the stomach ache, so as to avoid confessing her coquetry. +When bread was lacking at home it was difficult for her to trick herself out. +But she accomplished miracles, brought ribbons back from the workshop and +concocted toilettes—dirty dresses set off with bows and puffs. The summer +was the season of her greatest triumphs. With a cambric dress which had cost +her six francs she filled the whole neighborhood of the Goutte-d’Or with +her fair beauty. Yes, she was known from the outer Boulevards to the +Fortifications, and from the Chaussee de Clignancourt to the Grand Rue of La +Chapelle. Folks called her “chickie,” for she was really as tender +and as fresh-looking as a chicken. +</p> + +<p> +There was one dress which suited her perfectly, a white one with pink dots. It +was very simple and without a frill. The skirt was rather short and revealed +her ankles. The sleeves were deeply slashed and loose, showing her arms to the +elbow. She pinned the neck back into a wide V as soon as she reached a dark +corner of the staircase to avoid getting her ears boxed by her father for +exposing the snowy whiteness of her throat and the golden shadow between her +breasts. She also tied a pink ribbon round her blond hair. +</p> + +<p> +Sundays she spent the entire day out with the crowds and loved it when the men +eyed her hungrily as they passed. She waited all week long for these glances. +She would get up early to dress herself and spend hours before the fragment of +mirror that was hung over the bureau. Her mother would scold her because the +entire building could see her through the window in her chemise as she mended +her dress. +</p> + +<p> +Ah! she looked cute like that said father Coupeau, sneering and jeering at her, +a real Magdalene in despair! She might have turned “savage woman” +at a fair, and have shown herself for a penny. Hide your meat, he used to say, +and let me eat my bread! In fact, she was adorable, white and dainty under her +overhanging golden fleece, losing temper to the point that her skin turned +pink, not daring to answer her father, but cutting her thread with her teeth +with a hasty, furious jerk, which shook her plump but youthful form. +</p> + +<p> +Then immediately after breakfast she tripped down the stairs into the +courtyard. The entire tenement seemed to be resting sleepily in the +peacefulness of a Sunday afternoon. The workshops on the ground floor were +closed. Gaping windows revealed tables in some apartments that were already set +for dinner, awaiting families out working up an appetite by strolling along the +fortifications. +</p> + +<p> +Then, in the midst of the empty, echoing courtyard, Nana, Pauline and other big +girls engaged in games of battledore and shuttlecock. They had grown up +together and were now becoming queens of their building. Whenever a man crossed +the court, flutelike laugher would arise, and then starched skirts would rustle +like the passing of a gust of wind. +</p> + +<p> +The games were only an excuse for them to make their escape. Suddenly stillness +fell upon the tenement. The girls had glided out into the street and made for +the outer Boulevards. Then, linked arm-in-arm across the full breadth of the +pavement, they went off, the whole six of them, clad in light colors, with +ribbons tied around their bare heads. With bright eyes darting stealthy glances +through their partially closed eyelids, they took note of everything, and +constantly threw back their necks to laugh, displaying the fleshy part of their +chins. They would swing their hips, or group together tightly, or flaunt along +with awkward grace, all for the purpose of calling attention to the fact that +their forms were filling out. +</p> + +<p> +Nana was in the centre with her pink dress all aglow in the sunlight. She gave +her arm to Pauline, whose costume, yellow flowers on a white ground, glared in +similar fashion, dotted as it were with little flames. As they were the tallest +of the band, the most woman-like and most unblushing, they led the troop and +drew themselves up with breasts well forward whenever they detected glances or +heard complimentary remarks. The others extended right and left, puffing +themselves out in order to attract attention. Nana and Pauline resorted to the +complicated devices of experienced coquettes. If they ran till they were out of +breath, it was in view of showing their white stockings and making the ribbons +of their chignons wave in the breeze. When they stopped, pretending complete +breathlessness, you would certainly spot someone they knew quite near, one of +the young fellows of the neighborhood. This would make them dawdle along +languidly, whispering and laughing among themselves, but keeping a sharp watch +through their downcast eyelids. +</p> + +<p> +They went on these strolls of a Sunday mainly for the sake of these chance +meetings. Tall lads, wearing their Sunday best, would stop them, joking and +trying to catch them round their waists. Pauline was forever running into one +of Madame Gaudron’s sons, a seventeen-year-old carpenter, who would treat +her to fried potatoes. Nana could spot Victor Fauconnier, the laundress’s +son and they would exchange kisses in dark corners. It never went farther than +that, but they told each other some tall tales. +</p> + +<p> +Then when the sun set, the great delight of these young hussies was to stop and +look at the mountebanks. Conjurors and strong men turned up and spread +threadbare carpets on the soil of the avenue. Loungers collected and a circle +formed whilst the mountebank in the centre tried his muscles under his faded +tights. Nana and Pauline would stand for hours in the thickest part of the +crowd. Their pretty, fresh frocks would get crushed between great-coats and +dirty work smocks. In this atmosphere of wine and sweat they would laugh gaily, +finding amusement in everything, blooming naturally like roses growing out of a +dunghill. The only thing that vexed them was to meet their fathers, especially +when the latter had been drinking. So they watched and warned one another. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, Nana,” Pauline would suddenly cry out, “here comes +father Coupeau!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he’s drunk too. Oh, dear,” said Nana, greatly +bothered. “I’m going to beat it, you know. I don’t want him +to give me a wallop. Hullo! How he stumbles! Good Lord, if he could only break +his neck!” +</p> + +<p> +At other times, when Coupeau came straight up to her without giving her time to +run off, she crouched down, made herself small and muttered: “Just you +hide me, you others. He’s looking for me, and he promised he’d +knock my head off if he caught me hanging about.” +</p> + +<p> +Then when the drunkard had passed them she drew herself up again, and all the +others followed her with bursts of laughter. He’ll find her—he +will—he won’t! It was a true game of hide and seek. One day, +however, Boche had come after Pauline and caught her by both ears, and Coupeau +had driven Nana home with kicks. +</p> + +<p> +Nana was now a flower-maker and earned forty sous a day at Titreville’s +place in the Rue du Caire, where she had served as apprentice. The Coupeaus had +kept her there so that she might remain under the eye of Madame Lerat, who had +been forewoman in the workroom for ten years. Of a morning, when her mother +looked at the cuckoo clock, off she went by herself, looking very pretty with +her shoulders tightly confined in her old black dress, which was both too +narrow and too short; and Madame Lerat had to note the hour of her arrival and +tell it to Gervaise. She was allowed twenty minutes to go from the Rue de la +Goutte-d’Or to the Rue du Caire, and it was enough, for these young +hussies have the legs of racehorses. Sometimes she arrived exactly on time but +so breathless and flushed that she must have covered most of the distance at a +run after dawdling along the way. More often she was a few minutes late. Then +she would fawn on her aunt all day, hoping to soften her and keep her from +telling. Madame Lerat understood what it was to be young and would lie to the +Coupeaus, but she also lectured Nana, stressing the dangers a young girl runs +on the streets of Paris. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> she herself was followed often +enough! +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I watch, you needn’t fear,” said the widow to the +Coupeaus. “I will answer to you for her as I would for myself. And rather +than let a blackguard squeeze her, why I’d step between them.” +</p> + +<p> +The workroom at Titreville’s was a large apartment on the first floor, +with a broad work-table standing on trestles in the centre. Round the four +walls, the plaster of which was visible in parts where the dirty yellowish-grey +paper was torn away, there were several stands covered with old cardboard +boxes, parcels and discarded patterns under a thick coating of dust. The gas +had left what appeared to be like a daub of soot on the ceiling. The two +windows opened so wide that without leaving the work-table the girls could see +the people walking past on the pavement over the way. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lerat arrived the first, in view of setting an example. Then for a +quarter of an hour the door swayed to and fro, and all the workgirls scrambled +in, perspiring with tumbled hair. One July morning Nana arrived the last, as +very often happened. “Ah, me!” she said, “it won’t be a +pity when I have a carriage of my own.” And without even taking off her +hat, one which she was weary of patching up, she approached the window and +leant out, looking to the right and the left to see what was going on in the +street. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you looking at?” asked Madame Lerat, suspiciously. +“Did your father come with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, you may be sure of that,” answered Nana coolly. +“I’m looking at nothing—I’m seeing how hot it is. +It’s enough to make anyone, having to run like that.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a stifling hot morning. The workgirls had drawn down the Venetian +blinds, between which they could spy out into the street; and they had at last +begun working on either side of the table, at the upper end of which sat Madame +Lerat. They were eight in number, each with her pot of glue, pincers, tools and +curling stand in front of her. On the work-table lay a mass of wire, reels, +cotton wool, green and brown paper, leaves and petals cut out of silk, satin or +velvet. In the centre, in the neck of a large decanter, one flower-girl had +thrust a little penny nosegay which had been fading on her breast since the day +before. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I have some news,” said a pretty brunette named Leonie as she +leaned over her cushion to crimp some rose petals. “Poor Caroline is very +unhappy about that fellow who used to wait for her every evening.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said Nana, who was cutting thin strips of green paper. +“A man who cheats on her every day!” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lerat had to display severity over the muffled laughter. Then Leonie +whispered suddenly: +</p> + +<p> +“Quiet. The boss!” +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed Madame Titreville who entered. The tall thin woman usually stayed +down in the shop. The girls were quite in awe of her because she never joked +with them. All the heads were now bent over the work in diligent silence. +Madame Titreville slowly circled the work-table. She told one girl her work was +sloppy and made her do the flower over. Then she stalked out as stiffly as she +had come in. +</p> + +<p> +The complaining and low laughter began again. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, young ladies!” said Madame Lerat, trying to look more +severe than ever. “You will force me to take measures.” +</p> + +<p> +The workgirls paid no attention to her. They were not afraid of her. She was +too easy-going because she enjoyed being surrounded by these young girls whose +zest for life sparkled in their eyes. She enjoyed taking them aside to hear +their confidences about their lovers. She even told their fortunes with cards +whenever a corner of the work-table was free. She was only offended by coarse +expressions. As long as you avoided those you could say what you pleased. +</p> + +<p> +To tell the truth, Nana perfected her education in nice style in the workroom! +No doubt she was already inclined to go wrong. But this was the finishing +stroke—associating with a lot of girls who were already worn out with +misery and vice. They all hobnobbed and rotted together, just the story of the +baskets of apples when there are rotten ones among them. They maintained a +certain propriety in public, but the smut flowed freely when they got to +whispering together in a corner. +</p> + +<p> +For inexperienced girls like Nana, there was an undesirable atmosphere around +the workshop, an air of cheap dance halls and unorthodox evenings brought in by +some of the girls. The laziness of mornings after a gay night, the shadows +under the eyes, the lounging, the hoarse voices, all spread an odor of dark +perversion over the work-table which contrasted sharply with the brilliant +fragility of the artificial flowers. Nana eagerly drank it all in and was dizzy +with joy when she found herself beside a girl who had been around. She always +wanted to sit next to big Lisa, who was said to be pregnant, and she kept +glancing curiously at her neighbor as though expecting her to swell up +suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s hot enough to make one stifle,” Nana said, approaching +a window as if to draw the blind farther down; but she leant forward and again +looked out both to the right and left. +</p> + +<p> +At the same moment Leonie, who was watching a man stationed at the foot of the +pavement over the way, exclaimed, “What’s that old fellow about? +He’s been spying here for the last quarter of an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some tom cat,” said Madame Lerat. “Nana, just come and sit +down! I told you not to stand at the window.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana took up the stems of some violets she was rolling, and the whole workroom +turned its attention to the man in question. He was a well-dressed individual +wearing a frock coat and he looked about fifty years old. He had a pale face, +very serous and dignified in expression, framed round with a well trimmed grey +beard. He remained for an hour in front of a herbalist’s shop with his +eyes fixed on the Venetian blinds of the workroom. The flower-girls indulged in +little bursts of laughter which died away amid the noise of the street, and +while leaning forward, to all appearance busy with their work, they glanced +askance so as not to lose sight of the gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” remarked Leonie, “he wears glasses. He’s a swell. +He’s waiting for Augustine, no doubt.” +</p> + +<p> +But Augustine, a tall, ugly, fair-haired girl, sourly answered that she did not +like old men; whereupon Madame Lerat, jerking her head, answered with a smile +full of underhand meaning: +</p> + +<p> +“That is a great mistake on your part, my dear; the old ones are more +affectionate.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Leonie’s neighbor, a plump little body, whispered +something in her ear and Leonie suddenly threw herself back on her chair, +seized with a fit of noisy laughter, wriggling, looking at the gentleman and +then laughing all the louder. “That’s it. Oh! that’s +it,” she stammered. “How dirty that Sophie is!” +</p> + +<p> +“What did she say? What did she say?” asked the whole workroom, +aglow with curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +Leonie wiped the tears from her eyes without answering. When she became +somewhat calmer, she began curling her flowers again and declared, “It +can’t be repeated.” +</p> + +<p> +The others insisted, but she shook her head, seized again with a gust of +gaiety. Thereupon Augustine, her left-hand neighbor, besought her to whisper it +to her; and finally Leonie consented to do so with her lips close to +Augustine’s ear. Augustine threw herself back and wriggled with +convulsive laughter in her turn. Then she repeated the phrase to a girl next to +her, and from ear to ear it traveled round the room amid exclamations and +stifled laughter. When they were all of them acquainted with Sophie’s +disgusting remark they looked at one another and burst out laughing together +although a little flushed and confused. Madame Lerat alone was not in the +secret and she felt extremely vexed. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s very impolite behavior on your part, young ladies,” +said she. “It is not right to whisper when other people are present. +Something indecent no doubt! Ah! that’s becoming!” +</p> + +<p> +She did not dare go so far as to ask them to pass Sophie’s remark on to +her although she burned to hear it. So she kept her eyes on her work, amusing +herself by listening to the conversation. Now no one could make even an +innocent remark without the others twisting it around and connecting it with +the gentleman on the sidewalk. Madame Lerat herself once sent them into +convulsions of laughter when she said, “Mademoiselle Lisa, my +fire’s gone out. Pass me yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Madame Lerat’s fire’s out!” laughed the whole +shop. +</p> + +<p> +They refused to listen to any explanation, but maintained they were going to +call in the gentleman outside to rekindle Madame Lerat’s fire. +</p> + +<p> +However, the gentleman over the way had gone off. The room grew calmer and the +work was carried on in the sultry heat. When twelve o’clock +struck—meal-time—they all shook themselves. Nana, who had hastened +to the window again, volunteered to do the errands if they liked. And Leonie +ordered two sous worth of shrimps, Augustine a screw of fried potatoes, Lisa a +bunch of radishes, Sophie a sausage. Then as Nana was doing down the stairs, +Madame Lerat, who found her partiality for the window that morning rather +curious, overtook her with her long legs. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a bit,” said she. “I’ll go with you. I want to +buy something too.” +</p> + +<p> +But in the passage below she perceived the gentleman, stuck there like a candle +and exchanging glances with Nana. The girl flushed very red, whereupon her aunt +at once caught her by the arm and made her trot over the pavement, whilst the +individual followed behind. Ah! so the tom cat had come for Nana. Well, that +<i>was</i> nice! At fifteen years and a half to have men trailing after her! +Then Madame Lerat hastily began to question her. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> Nana +didn’t know; he had only been following her for five days, but she could +not poke her nose out of doors without stumbling on men. She believed he was in +business; yes, a manufacturer of bone buttons. Madame Lerat was greatly +impressed. She turned round and glanced at the gentleman out of the corner of +her eye. +</p> + +<p> +“One can see he’s got a deep purse,” she muttered. +“Listen to me, kitten; you must tell me everything. You have nothing more +to fear now.” +</p> + +<p> +Whilst speaking they hastened from shop to shop—to the pork +butcher’s, the fruiterer’s, the cook-shop; and the errands in +greasy paper were piled up in their hands. Still they remained amiable, +flouncing along and casting bright glances behind them with gusts of gay +laughter. Madame Lerat herself was acting the young girl, on account of the +button manufacturer who was still following them. +</p> + +<p> +“He is very distinguished looking,” she declared as they returned +into the passage. “If he only has honorable views—” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as they were going up the stairs she suddenly seemed to remember +something. “By the way, tell me what the girls were whispering to each +other—you know, what Sophie said?” +</p> + +<p> +Nana did not make any ceremony. Only she caught Madame Lerat by the hand, and +caused her to descend a couple of steps, for, really, it wouldn’t do to +say it aloud, not even on the stairs. When she whispered it to her, it was so +obscene that Madame Lerat could only shake her head, opening her eyes wide, and +pursing her lips. Well, at least her curiosity wasn’t troubling her any +longer. +</p> + +<p> +From that day forth Madame Lerat regaled herself with her niece’s first +love adventure. She no longer left her, but accompanied her morning and +evening, bringing her responsibility well to the fore. This somewhat annoyed +Nana, but all the same she expanded with pride at seeing herself guarded like a +treasure; and the talk she and her aunt indulged in in the street with the +button manufacturer behind them flattered her, and rather quickened her desire +for new flirtations. Oh! her aunt understood the feelings of the heart; she +even compassionated the button manufacturer, this elderly gentleman, who looked +so respectable, for, after all, sentimental feelings are more deeply rooted +among people of a certain age. Still she watched. And, yes, he would have to +pass over her body before stealing her niece. +</p> + +<p> +One evening she approached the gentleman, and told him, as straight as a +bullet, that his conduct was most improper. He bowed to her politely without +answering, like an old satyr who was accustomed to hear parents tell him to go +about his business. She really could not be cross with him, he was too well +mannered. +</p> + +<p> +Then came lectures on love, allusions to dirty blackguards of men, and all +sorts of stories about hussies who had repented of flirtations, which left Nana +in a state of pouting, with eyes gleaming brightly in her pale face. +</p> + +<p> +One day, however, in the Rue du Faubourg-Poissonniere the button manufacturer +ventured to poke his nose between the aunt and the niece to whisper some things +which ought not to have been said. Thereupon Madame Lerat was so frightened +that she declared she no longer felt able to handle the matter and she told the +whole business to her brother. Then came another row. There were some pretty +rumpuses in the Coupeaus’ room. To begin with, the zinc-worker gave Nana +a hiding. What was that he learnt? The hussy was flirting with old men. All +right. Only let her be caught philandering out of doors again, she’d be +done for; he, her father, would cut off her head in a jiffy. Had the like ever +been seen before! A dirty nose who thought of beggaring her family! Thereupon +he shook her, declaring in God’s name that she’d have to walk +straight, for he’d watch her himself in future. He now looked her over +every night when she came in, even going so far as to sniff at her and make her +turn round before him. +</p> + +<p> +One evening she got another hiding because he discovered a mark on her neck +that he maintained was the mark of a kiss. Nana insisted it was a bruise that +Leonie had given her when they were having a bit of a rough-house. Yet at other +times her father would tease her, saying she was certainly a choice morsel for +men. Nana began to display the sullen submissiveness of a trapped animal. She +was raging inside. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you leave her alone?” repeated Gervaise, who was +more reasonable. “You will end by making her wish to do it by talking to +her about it so much.” +</p> + +<p> +Ah! yes, indeed, she did wish to do it. She itched all over, longing to break +loose and gad all the time, as father Coupeau said. He insisted so much on the +subject that even an honest girl would have fired up. Even when he was abusing +her, he taught her a few things she did not know as yet, which, to say the +least was astonishing. Then, little by little she acquired some singular +habits. One morning he noticed her rummaging in a paper bag and rubbing +something on her face. It was rice powder, which she plastered on her delicate +satin-like skin with perverse taste. He caught up the paper bag and rubbed it +over her face violently enough to graze her skin and called her a +miller’s daughter. On another occasion she brought some ribbon home, to +do up her old black hat which she was so ashamed of. He asked her in a furious +voice where she had got those ribbons from. Had she earned them by lying on her +back or had she bagged them somewhere? A hussy or a thief, and perhaps both by +now? +</p> + +<p> +More than once he found her with some pretty little doodad. She had found a +little interlaced heart in the street on Rue d’Aboukir. Her father +crushed the heart under his foot, driving her to the verge of throwing herself +at him to ruin something of his. For two years she had been longing for one of +those hearts, and now he had smashed it! This was too much, she was reaching +the end of the line with him. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau was often in the wrong in the manner in which he tried to rule Nana. +His injustice exasperated her. She at last left off attending the workshop and +when the zinc-worker gave her a hiding, she declared she would not return to +Titreville’s again, for she was always placed next to Augustine, who must +have swallowed her feet to have such a foul breath. Then Coupeau took her +himself to the Rue du Caire and requested the mistress of the establishment to +place her always next to Augustine, by way of punishment. Every morning for a +fortnight he took the trouble to come down from the Barriere Poissonniere to +escort Nana to the door of the flower shop. And he remained for five minutes on +the footway, to make sure that she had gone in. But one morning while he was +drinking a glass with a friend in a wineshop in the Rue Saint-Denis, he +perceived the hussy darting down the street. For a fortnight she had been +deceiving him; instead of going into the workroom, she climbed a story higher, +and sat down on the stairs, waiting till he had gone off. When Coupeau began +casting the blame on Madame Lerat, the latter flatly replied that she would not +accept it. She had told her niece all she ought to tell her, to keep her on her +guard against men, and it was not her fault if the girl still had a liking for +the nasty beasts. Now, she washed her hands of the whole business; she swore +she would not mix up in it, for she knew what she knew about scandalmongers in +her own family, yes, certain persons who had the nerve to accuse her of going +astray with Nana and finding an indecent pleasure in watching her take her +first misstep. Then Coupeau found out from the proprietress that Nana was being +corrupted by that little floozie Leonie, who had given up flower-making to go +on the street. Nana was being tempted by the jingle of cash and the lure of +adventure on the streets. +</p> + +<p> +In the tenement in the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or, Nana’s old fellow was +talked about as a gentleman everyone was acquainted with. Oh! he remained very +polite, even a little timid, but awfully obstinate and patient, following her +ten paces behind like an obedient poodle. Sometimes, indeed, he ventured into +the courtyard. One evening, Madame Gaudron met him on the second floor landing, +and he glided down alongside the balusters with his nose lowered and looking as +if on fire, but frightened. The Lorilleuxs threatened to move out if that +wayward niece of theirs brought men trailing in after her. It was disgusting. +The staircase was full of them. The Boches said that they felt sympathy for the +old gentleman because he had fallen for a tramp. He was really a respectable +businessman, they had seen his button factory on the Boulevard de la Villette. +He would be an excellent catch for a decent girl. +</p> + +<p> +For the first month Nana was greatly amused with her old flirt. You should have +seen him always dogging her—a perfect great nuisance, who followed far +behind, in the crowd, without seeming to do so. And his legs! Regular lucifers. +No more moss on his pate, only four straight hairs falling on his neck, so that +she was always tempted to ask him where his hairdresser lived. Ah! what an old +gaffer, he was comical and no mistake, nothing to get excited over. +</p> + +<p> +Then, on finding him always behind her, she no longer thought him so funny. She +became afraid of him and would have called out if he had approached her. Often, +when she stopped in front of a jeweler’s shop, she heard him stammering +something behind her. And what he said was true; she would have liked to have +had a cross with a velvet neck-band, or a pair of coral earrings, so small you +would have thought they were drops of blood. +</p> + +<p> +More and more, as she plodded through the mire of the streets, getting splashed +by passing vehicles and being dazzled by the magnificence of the window +displays, she felt longings that tortured her like hunger pangs, yearnings for +better clothes, for eating in restaurants, for going to the theatre, for a room +of her own with nice furniture. Right at those moments, it never failed that +her old gentleman would come up to whisper something in her ear. Oh, if only +she wasn’t afraid of him, how readily she would have taken up with him. +</p> + +<p> +When the winter arrived, life became impossible at home. Nana had her hiding +every night. When her father was tired of beating her, her mother smacked her +to teach her how to behave. And there were free-for-alls; as soon as one of +them began to beat her, the other took her part, so that all three of them +ended by rolling on the floor in the midst of the broken crockery. And with all +this, there were short rations and they shivered with cold. Whenever the girl +bought anything pretty, a bow or a pair of buttons, her parents confiscated the +purchase and drank what they could get for it. She had nothing of her own, +excepting her allowance of blows, before coiling herself up between the rags of +a sheet, where she shivered under her little black skirt, which she stretched +out by way of a blanket. No, that cursed life could not continue; she was not +going to leave her skin in it. Her father had long since ceased to count for +her; when a father gets drunk like hers did, he isn’t a father, but a +dirty beast one longs to be rid of. And now, too, her mother was doing down the +hill in her esteem. She drank as well. She liked to go and fetch her husband at +Pere Colombe’s, so as to be treated; and she willingly sat down, with +none of the air of disgust that she had assumed on the first occasion, draining +glasses indeed at one gulp, dragging her elbows over the table for hours and +leaving the place with her eyes starting out of her head. +</p> + +<p> +When Nana passed in front of l’Assommoir and saw her mother inside, with +her nose in her glass, fuddled in the midst of the disputing men, she was +seized with anger; for youth which has other dainty thoughts uppermost does not +understand drink. On these evenings it was a pretty sight. Father drunk, mother +drunk, a hell of a home that stunk with liquor, and where there was no bread. +To tell the truth, a saint would not have stayed in the place. So much the +worse if she flew the coop one of these days; her parents would have to say +their <i>mea culpa</i>, and own that they had driven her out themselves. +</p> + +<p> +One Saturday when Nana came home she found her father and her mother in a +lamentable condition. Coupeau, who had fallen across the bed was snoring. +Gervaise, crouching on a chair was swaying her head, with her eyes vaguely and +threateningly staring into vacancy. She had forgotten to warm the dinner, the +remains of a stew. A tallow dip which she neglected to snuff revealed the +shameful misery of their hovel. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s you, shrimp?” stammered Gervaise. “Ah, well, your +father will take care of you.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana did not answer, but remained pale, looking at the cold stove, the table on +which no plates were laid, the lugubrious hovel which this pair of drunkards +invested with the pale horror of their callousness. She did not take off her +hat but walked round the room; then with her teeth tightly set, she opened the +door and went out. +</p> + +<p> +“You are doing down again?” asked her mother, who was unable even +to turn her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; I’ve forgotten something. I shall come up again. Good +evening.” +</p> + +<p> +And she did not return. On the morrow when the Coupeaus were sobered they +fought together, reproaching each other with being the cause of Nana’s +flight. Ah! she was far away if she were running still! As children are told of +sparrows, her parents might set a pinch of salt on her tail, and then perhaps +they would catch her. It was a great blow, and crushed Gervaise, for despite +the impairment of her faculties, she realized perfectly well that her +daughter’s misconduct lowered her still more; she was alone now, with no +child to think about, able to let herself sink as low as she could fall. She +drank steadily for three days. Coupeau prowled along the exterior Boulevards +without seeing Nana and then came home to smoke his pipe peacefully. He was +always back in time for his soup. +</p> + +<p> +In this tenement, where girls flew off every month like canaries whose cages +are left open, no one was astonished to hear of the Coupeaus’ mishap. But +the Lorilleuxs were triumphant. Ah! they had predicted that the girl would +reward her parents in this fashion. It was deserved; all artificial +flower-girls went that way. The Boches and the Poissons also sneered with an +extraordinary display and outlay of grief. Lantier alone covertly defended +Nana. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> said he, with his puritanical air, no doubt a girl who +so left her home did offend her parents; but, with a gleam in the corner of his +eyes, he added that, dash it! the girl was, after all, too pretty to lead such +a life of misery at her age. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know,” cried Madame Lorilleux, one day in the Boches’ +room, where the party were taking coffee; “well, as sure as daylight, +Clump-clump sold her daughter. Yes she sold her, and I have proof of it! That +old fellow, who was always on the stairs morning and night, went up to pay +something on account. It stares one in the face. They were seen together at the +Ambigu Theatre—the young wench and her old tom cat. Upon my word of +honor, they’re living together, it’s quite plain.” +</p> + +<p> +They discussed the scandal thoroughly while finishing their coffee. Yes, it was +quite possible. Soon most of the neighborhood accepted the conclusion that +Gervaise had actually sold her daughter. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise now shuffled along in her slippers, without caring a rap for anyone. +You might have called her a thief in the street, she wouldn’t have turned +round. For a month past she hadn’t looked at Madame Fauconnier’s; +the latter had had to turn her out of the place to avoid disputes. In a few +weeks’ time she had successively entered the service of eight +washerwomen; she only lasted two or three days in each place before she got the +sack, so badly did she iron the things entrusted to her, careless and dirty, +her mind failing to such a point that she quite forgot her own craft. At last +realizing her own incapacity she abandoned ironing; and went out washing by the +day at the wash-house in the Rue Neuve, where she still jogged on, floundering +about in the water, fighting with filth, reduced to the roughest but simplest +work, a bit lower on the down-hill slopes. The wash-house scarcely beautified +her. A real mud-splashed dog when she came out of it, soaked and showing her +blue skin. At the same time she grew stouter and stouter, despite her frequent +dances before the empty sideboard, and her leg became so crooked that she could +no longer walk beside anyone without the risk of knocking him over, so great +indeed was her limp. +</p> + +<p> +Naturally enough when a woman falls to this point all her pride leaves her. +Gervaise had divested herself of all her old self-respect, coquetry and need of +sentiment, propriety and politeness. You might have kicked her, no matter +where, she did not feel kicks for she had become too fat and flabby. Lantier +had altogether neglected her; he no longer escorted her or even bothered to +give her a pinch now and again. She did not seem to notice this finish of a +long liaison slowly spun out, and ending in mutual insolence. It was a chore +the less for her. Even Lantier’s intimacy with Virginie left her quite +calm, so great was her indifference now for all that she had been so upset +about in the past. She would even have held a candle for them now. +</p> + +<p> +Everyone was aware that Virginie and Lantier were carrying on. It was much too +convenient, especially with Poisson on duty every other night. Lantier had +thought of himself when he advised Virginie to deal in dainties. He was too +much of a Provincial not to adore sugared things; and in fact he would have +lived off sugar candy, lozenges, pastilles, sugar plums and chocolate. Sugared +almonds especially left a little froth on his lips so keenly did they tickle +his palate. For a year he had been living only on sweetmeats. He opened the +drawers and stuffed himself whenever Virginie asked him to mind the shop. +Often, when he was talking in the presence of five or six other people, he +would take the lid off a jar on the counter, dip his hand into it and begin to +nibble at something sweet; the glass jar remained open and its contents +diminished. People ceased paying attention to it, it was a mania of his so he +had declared. Besides, he had devised a perpetual cold, an irritation of the +throat, which he always talked of calming. +</p> + +<p> +He still did not work, for he had more and more important schemes than ever in +view. He was contriving a superb invention—the umbrella hat, a hat which +transformed itself into an umbrella on your head as soon as a shower commenced +to fall; and he promised Poisson half shares in the profit of it, and even +borrowed twenty franc pieces of him to defray the cost of experiments. +Meanwhile the shop melted away on his tongue. All the stock-in-trade followed +suit down to the chocolate cigars and pipes in pink caramel. Whenever he was +stuffed with sweetmeats and seized with a fit of tenderness, he paid himself +with a last lick on the groceress in a corner, who found him all sugar with +lips which tasted like burnt almonds. Such a delightful man to kiss! He was +positively becoming all honey. The Boches said he merely had to dip a finger +into his coffee to sweeten it. +</p> + +<p> +Softened by this perpetual dessert, Lantier showed himself paternal towards +Gervaise. He gave her advice and scolded her because she no longer liked to +work. Indeed! A woman of her age ought to know how to turn herself round. And +he accused her of having always been a glutton. Nevertheless, as one ought to +hold out a helping hand, even to folks who don’t deserve it, he tried to +find her a little work. Thus he had prevailed upon Virginie to let Gervaise +come once a week to scrub the shop and the rooms. That was the sort of thing +she understood and on each occasion she earned her thirty sous. Gervaise +arrived on the Saturday morning with a pail and a scrubbing brush, without +seeming to suffer in the least at having to perform a dirty, humble duty, a +charwoman’s work in the dwelling-place where she had reigned as the +beautiful fair-haired mistress. It was a last humiliation, the end of her +pride. +</p> + +<p> +One Saturday she had a hard job of it. It had rained for three days and the +customers seemed to have brought all the mud of the neighborhood into the shop +on the soles of their boots. Virginie was at the counter doing the grand, with +her hair well combed, and wearing a little white collar and a pair of lace +cuffs. Beside her, on the narrow seat covered with red oil-cloth, Lantier did +the dandy, looking for the world as if he were at home, as if he were the real +master of the place, and from time to time he carelessly dipped his hand into a +jar of peppermint drops, just to nibble something sweet according to his habit. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here, Madame Coupeau!” cried Virginie, who was watching the +scrubbing with compressed lips, “you have left some dirt over there in +the corner. Scrub that rather better please.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise obeyed. She returned to the corner and began to scrub again. She bent +double on her knees in the midst of the dirty water, with her shoulders +protruding, her arms stiff and purple with cold. Her old skirt, fairly soaked, +stuck to her figure. And there on the floor she looked a dirty, ill-combed +drab, the rents in her jacket showing her puffy form, her fat, flabby flesh +which heaved, swayed and floundered about as she went about her work; and all +the while she perspired to such a point that from her moist face big drops of +sweat fell on to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“The more elbow grease one uses, the more it shines,” said Lantier, +sententiously, with his mouth full of peppermint drops. +</p> + +<p> +Virginie, who sat back with the demeanor of a princess, her eyes partly open, +was still watching the scrubbing, and indulging in remarks. “A little +more on the right there. Take care of the wainscot. You know I was not very +well pleased last Saturday. There were some stains left.” +</p> + +<p> +And both together, the hatter and the groceress assumed a more important air, +as if they had been on a throne whilst Gervaise dragged herself through the +black mud at their feet. Virginie must have enjoyed herself, for a yellowish +flame darted from her cat’s eyes, and she looked at Lantier with an +insidious smile. At last she was revenged for that hiding she had received at +the wash-house, and which she had never forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +Whenever Gervaise ceased scrubbing, a sound of sawing could be heard from the +back room. Through the open doorway, Poisson’s profile stood out against +the pale light of the courtyard. He was off duty that day and was profiting by +his leisure time to indulge in his mania for making little boxes. He was seated +at a table and was cutting out arabesques in a cigar box with extraordinary +care. +</p> + +<p> +“Say, Badingue!” cried Lantier, who had given him this surname +again, out of friendship. “I shall want that box of yours as a present +for a young lady.” +</p> + +<p> +Virginie gave him a pinch and he reached under the counter to run his fingers +like a creeping mouse up her leg. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so,” said the policeman. “I was working for you, +Auguste, in view of presenting you with a token of friendship.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, if that’s the case, I’ll keep your little +memento!” rejoined Lantier with a laugh. “I’ll hang it round +my neck with a ribbon.” +</p> + +<p> +Then suddenly, as if this thought brought another one to his memory, “By +the way,” he cried, “I met Nana last night.” +</p> + +<p> +This news caused Gervaise such emotion that she sunk down in the dirty water +which covered the floor of the shop. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” she muttered speechlessly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; as I was going down the Rue des Martyrs, I caught sight of a girl +who was on the arm of an old fellow in front of me, and I said to myself: I +know that shape. I stepped faster and sure enough found myself face to face +with Nana. There’s no need to pity her, she looked very happy, with her +pretty woolen dress on her back, a gold cross and an awfully pert +expression.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” repeated Gervaise in a husky voice. +</p> + +<p> +Lantier, who had finished the pastilles, took some barley-sugar out of another +jar. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s sneaky,” he resumed. “She made a sign to me to +follow her, with wonderful composure. Then she left her old fellow somewhere in +a cafe—oh a wonderful chap, the old bloke, quite used up!—and she +came and joined me under the doorway. A pretty little serpent, pretty, and +doing the grand, and fawning on you like a little dog. Yes, she kissed me, and +wanted to have news of everyone—I was very pleased to meet her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said Gervaise for the third time. She drew herself together, +and still waited. Hadn’t her daughter had a word for her then? In the +silence Poisson’s saw could be heard again. Lantier, who felt gay, was +sucking his barley-sugar, and smacking his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if <i>I</i> saw her, I should go over to the other side of the +street,” interposed Virginie, who had just pinched the hatter again most +ferociously. “It isn’t because you are there, Madame Coupeau, but +your daughter is rotten to the core. Why, every day Poisson arrests girls who +are better than she is.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise said nothing, nor did she move; her eyes staring into space. She ended +by jerking her head to and fro, as if in answer to her thoughts, whilst the +hatter, with a gluttonous mien, muttered: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, a man wouldn’t mind getting a bit of indigestion from that +sort of rottenness. It’s as tender as chicken.” +</p> + +<p> +But the grocer gave him such a terrible look that he had to pause and quiet her +with some delicate attention. He watched the policeman, and perceiving that he +had his nose lowered over his little box again, he profited of the opportunity +to shove some barley-sugar into Virginie’s mouth. Thereupon she laughed +at him good-naturedly and turned all her anger against Gervaise. +</p> + +<p> +“Just make haste, eh? The work doesn’t do itself while you remain +stuck there like a street post. Come, look alive, I don’t want to +flounder about in the water till night time.” +</p> + +<p> +And she added hatefully in a lower tone: “It isn’t my fault if her +daughter’s gone and left her.” +</p> + +<p> +No doubt Gervaise did not hear. She had begun to scrub the floor again, with +her back bent and dragging herself along with a frog-like motion. She still had +to sweep the dirty water out into the gutter, and then do the final rinsing. +</p> + +<p> +After a pause, Lantier, who felt bored, raised his voice again: “Do you +know, Badingue,” he cried, “I met your boss yesterday in the Rue de +Rivoli. He looked awfully down in the mouth. He hasn’t six months’ +life left in his body. Ah! after all, with the life he leads—” +</p> + +<p> +He was talking about the Emperor. The policeman did not raise his eyes, but +curtly answered: “If you were the Government you wouldn’t be so +fat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear fellow, if I were the Government,” rejoined the +hatter, suddenly affecting an air of gravity, “things would go on rather +better, I give you my word for it. Thus, their foreign policy—why, for +some time past it has been enough to make a fellow sweat. If I—I who +speak to you—only knew a journalist to inspire him with my ideas.” +</p> + +<p> +He was growing animated, and as he had finished crunching his barley-sugar, he +opened a drawer from which he took a number of jujubes, which he swallowed +while gesticulating. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s quite simple. Before anything else, I should give Poland her +independence again, and I should establish a great Scandinavian state to keep +the Giant of the North at bay. Then I should make a republic out of all the +little German states. As for England, she’s scarcely to be feared; if she +budged ever so little I should send a hundred thousand men to India. Add to +that I should send the Sultan back to Mecca and the Pope to Jerusalem, +belaboring their backs with the butt end of a rifle. Eh? Europe would soon be +clean. Come, Badingue, just look here.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused to take five or six jujubes in his hand. “Why, it +wouldn’t take longer than to swallow these.” +</p> + +<p> +And he threw one jujube after another into his open mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“The Emperor has another plan,” said the policeman, after +reflecting for a couple of minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, forget it,” rejoined the hatter. “We know what his plan +is. All Europe is laughing at us. Every day the Tuileries footmen find your +boss under the table between a couple of high society floozies.” +</p> + +<p> +Poisson rose to his feet. He came forward and placed his hand on his heart, +saying: “You hurt me, Auguste. Discuss, but don’t involve +personalities.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon Virginie intervened, bidding them stop their row. She didn’t +care a fig for Europe. How could two men, who shared everything else, always be +disputing about politics? For a minute they mumbled some indistinct words. Then +the policeman, in view of showing that he harbored no spite, produced the cover +of his little box, which he had just finished; it bore the inscription in +marquetry: “To Auguste, a token of friendship.” Lantier, feeling +exceedingly flattered, lounged back and spread himself out so that he almost +sat upon Virginie. And the husband viewed the scene with his face the color of +an old wall and his bleared eyes fairly expressionless; but all the same, at +moments the red hairs of his moustaches stood up on end of their own accord in +a very singular fashion, which would have alarmed any man who was less sure of +his business than the hatter. +</p> + +<p> +This beast of a Lantier had the quiet cheek which pleases ladies. As Poisson +turned his back he was seized with the idea of printing a kiss on Madame +Poisson’s left eye. As a rule he was stealthily prudent, but when he had +been disputing about politics he risked everything, so as to show the wife his +superiority. These gloating caresses, cheekily stolen behind the +policeman’s back, revenged him on the Empire which had turned France into +a house of quarrels. Only on this occasion he had forgotten Gervaise’s +presence. She had just finished rinsing and wiping the shop, and she stood near +the counter waiting for her thirty sous. However, the kiss on Virginie’s +eye left her perfectly calm, as being quite natural, and as part of a business +she had no right to mix herself up in. Virginie seemed rather vexed. She threw +the thirty sous on to the counter in front of Gervaise. The latter did not +budge but stood there waiting, still palpitating with the effort she had made +in scrubbing, and looking as soaked and as ugly as a dog fished out of the +sewer. +</p> + +<p> +“Then she didn’t tell you anything?” she asked the hatter at +last. +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” he cried. “Ah, yes; you mean Nana. No, nothing else. +What a tempting mouth she has, the little hussy! Real strawberry jam!” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise went off with her thirty sous in her hand. The holes in her shoes spat +water forth like pumps; they were real musical shoes, and played a tune as they +left moist traces of their broad soles along the pavement. +</p> + +<p> +In the neighborhood the feminine tipplers of her own class now related that she +drank to console herself for her daughter’s misconduct. She herself, when +she gulped down her dram of spirits on the counter, assumed a dramatic air, and +tossed the liquor into her mouth, wishing it would “do” for her. +And on the days when she came home boozed she stammered that it was all through +grief. But honest folks shrugged their shoulders. They knew what that meant: +ascribing the effects of the peppery fire of l’Assommoir to grief, +indeed! At all events, she ought to have called it bottled grief. No doubt at +the beginning she couldn’t digest Nana’s flight. All the honest +feelings remaining in her revolted at the thought, and besides, as a rule a +mother doesn’t like to have to think that her daughter, at that very +moment, perhaps, is being familiarly addressed by the first chance comer. But +Gervaise was already too stultified with a sick head and a crushed heart, to +think of the shame for long. With her it came and went. She remained sometimes +for a week together without thinking of her daughter, and then suddenly a +tender or an angry feeling seized hold of her, sometimes when she had her +stomach empty, at others when it was full, a furious longing to catch Nana in +some corner, where she would perhaps have kissed her or perhaps have beaten +her, according to the fancy of the moment. +</p> + +<p> +Whenever these thoughts came over her, Gervaise looked on all sides in the +streets with the eyes of a detective. Ah! if she had only seen her little +sinner, how quickly she would have brought her home again! The neighborhood was +being turned topsy-turvy that year. The Boulevard Magenta and the Boulevard +Ornano were being pierced; they were doing away with the old Barriere +Poissonniere and cutting right through the outer Boulevard. The district could +not be recognized. The whole of one side of the Rue des Poissonniers had been +pulled down. From the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or a large clearing could now be +seen, a dash of sunlight and open air; and in place of the gloomy buildings +which had hidden the view in this direction there rose up on the Boulevard +Ornano a perfect monument, a six-storied house, carved all over like a church, +with clear windows, which, with their embroidered curtains, seemed symbolical +of wealth. This white house, standing just in front of the street, illuminated +it with a jet of light, as it were, and every day it caused discussions between +Lantier and Poisson. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise had several times had tidings of Nana. There are always ready tongues +anxious to pay you a sorry compliment. Yes, she had been told that the hussy +had left her old gentleman, just like the inexperienced girl she was. She had +gotten along famously with him, petted, adored, and free, too, if she had only +known how to manage the situation. But youth is foolish, and she had no doubt +gone off with some young rake, no one knew exactly where. What seemed certain +was that one afternoon she had left her old fellow on the Place de la Bastille, +just for half a minute, and he was still waiting for her to return. Other +persons swore they had seen her since, dancing on her heels at the “Grand +Hall of Folly,” in the Rue de la Chapelle. Then it was that Gervaise took +it into her head to frequent all the dancing places of the neighborhood. She +did not pass in front of a public ball-room without going in. Coupeau +accompanied her. At first they merely made the round of the room, looking at +the drabs who were jumping about. But one evening, as they had some coin, they +sat down and ordered a large bowl of hot wine in view of regaling themselves +and waiting to see if Nana would turn up. At the end of a month or so they had +practically forgotten her, but they frequented the halls for their own +pleasure, liking to look at the dancers. They would remain for hours without +exchanging a word, resting their elbows on the table, stultified amidst the +quaking of the floor, and yet no doubt amusing themselves as they stared with +pale eyes at the Barriere women in the stifling atmosphere and ruddy glow of +the hall. +</p> + +<p> +It happened one November evening that they went into the “Grand Hall of +Folly” to warm themselves. Out of doors a sharp wind cut you across the +face. But the hall was crammed. There was a thundering big swarm inside; people +at all the tables, people in the middle, people up above, quite an amount of +flesh. Yes, those who cared for tripes could enjoy themselves. When they had +made the round twice without finding a vacant table, they decided to remain +standing and wait till somebody went off. Coupeau was teetering on his legs, in +a dirty blouse, with an old cloth cap which had lost its peak flattened down on +his head. And as he blocked the way, he saw a scraggy young fellow who was +wiping his coat-sleeve after elbowing him. +</p> + +<p> +“Say!” cried Coupeau in a fury, as he took his pipe out of his +black mouth. “Can’t you apologize? And you play the disgusted one? +Just because a fellow wears a blouse!” +</p> + +<p> +The young man turned round and looked at the zinc-worker from head to foot. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll just teach you, you scraggy young scamp,” continued +Coupeau, “that the blouse is the finest garment out; yes! the garment of +work. I’ll wipe you if you like with my fists. Did one ever hear of such +a thing—a ne’er-do-well insulting a workman!” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise tried to calm him, but in vain. He drew himself up in his rags, in +full view, and struck his blouse, roaring: “There’s a man’s +chest under that!” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon the young man dived into the midst of the crowd, muttering: +“What a dirty blackguard!” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau wanted to follow and catch him. He wasn’t going to let himself be +insulted by a fellow with a coat on. Probably it wasn’t even paid for! +Some second-hand toggery to impress a girl with, without having to fork out a +centime. If he caught the chap again, he’d bring him down on his knees +and make him bow to the blouse. But the crush was too great; there was no means +of walking. He and Gervaise turned slowly round the dancers; there were three +rows of sightseers packed close together, whose faces lighted up whenever any +of the dancers showed off. As Coupeau and Gervaise were both short, they raised +themselves up on tiptoe, trying to see something besides the chignons and hats +that were bobbing about. The cracked brass instruments of the orchestra were +furiously thundering a quadrille, a perfect tempest which made the hall shake; +while the dancers, striking the floor with their feet, raised a cloud of dust +which dimmed the brightness of the gas. The heat was unbearable. +</p> + +<p> +“Look there,” said Gervaise suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, at that velvet hat over there.” +</p> + +<p> +They raised themselves up on tiptoe. On the left hand there was an old black +velvet hat trimmed with ragged feathers bobbing about—regular +hearse’s plumes. It was dancing a devil of a dance, this +hat—bouncing and whirling round, diving down and then springing up again. +Coupeau and Gervaise lost sight of it as the people round about moved their +heads, but then suddenly they saw it again, swaying farther off with such droll +effrontery that folks laughed merely at the sight of this dancing hat, without +knowing what was underneath it. +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” asked Coupeau. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you recognize that head of hair?” muttered Gervaise in +a stifled voice. “May my head be cut off if it isn’t her.” +</p> + +<p> +With one shove the zinc-worker made his way through the crowd. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> +yes, it was Nana! And in a nice pickle too! She had nothing on her back but an +old silk dress, all stained and sticky from having wiped the tables of boozing +dens, and with its flounces so torn that they fell in tatters round about. Not +even a bit of a shawl over her shoulders. And to think that the hussy had had +such an attentive, loving gentleman, and had yet fallen to this condition, +merely for the sake of following some rascal who had beaten her, no doubt! +Nevertheless she had remained fresh and insolent, with her hair as frizzy as a +poodle’s, and her mouth bright pink under that rascally hat of hers. +</p> + +<p> +“Just wait a bit, I’ll make her dance!” resumed Coupeau. +</p> + +<p> +Naturally enough, Nana was not on her guard. You should have seen how she +wriggled about! She twisted to the right and to the left, bending double as if +she were going to break herself in two, and kicking her feet as high as her +partner’s face. A circle had formed about her and this excited her even +more. She raised her skirts to her knees and really let herself go in a wild +dance, whirling and turning, dropping to the floor in splits, and then jigging +and bouncing. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau was trying to force his way through the dancers and was disrupting the +quadrille. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you, it’s my daughter!” he cried; “let me +pass.” +</p> + +<p> +Nana was now dancing backwards, sweeping the floor with her flounces, rounding +her figure and wriggling it, so as to look all the more tempting. She suddenly +received a masterly blow just on the right cheek. She raised herself up and +turned quite pale on recognizing her father and mother. Bad luck and no +mistake. +</p> + +<p> +“Turn him out!” howled the dancers. +</p> + +<p> +But Coupeau, who had just recognized his daughter’s cavalier as the +scraggy young man in the coat, did not care a fig for what the people said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it’s us,” he roared. “Eh? You didn’t expect +it. So we catch you here, and with a whipper-snapper, too, who insulted me a +little while ago!” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise, whose teeth were tight set, pushed him aside, exclaiming, “Shut +up. There’s no need of so much explanation.” +</p> + +<p> +And, stepping forward, she dealt Nana a couple of hearty cuffs. The first +knocked the feathered hat on one side, and the second left a red mark on the +girl’s white cheek. Nana was too stupefied either to cry or resist. The +orchestra continued playing, the crowd grew angry and repeated savagely, +“Turn them out! Turn them out!” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, make haste!” resumed Gervaise. “Just walk in front, +and don’t try to run off. You shall sleep in prison if you do.” +</p> + +<p> +The scraggy young man had prudently disappeared. Nana walked ahead, very stiff +and still stupefied by her bad luck. Whenever she showed the lest +unwillingness, a cuff from behind brought her back to the direction of the +door. And thus they went out, all three of them, amid the jeers and banter of +the spectators, whilst the orchestra finished playing the finale with such +thunder that the trombones seemed to be spitting bullets. +</p> + +<p> +The old life began again. After sleeping for twelve hours in her closet, Nana +behaved very well for a week or so. She had patched herself a modest little +dress, and wore a cap with the strings tied under her chignon. Seized indeed +with remarkable fervor, she declared she would work at home, where one could +earn what one liked without hearing any nasty work-room talk; and she procured +some work and installed herself at a table, getting up at five o’clock in +the morning on the first few days to roll her sprigs of violets. But when she +had delivered a few gross, she stretched her arms and yawned over her work, +with her hands cramped, for she had lost her knack of stem-rolling, and +suffocated, shut up like this at home after allowing herself so much open air +freedom during the last six months. Then the glue dried, the petals and the +green paper got stained with grease, and the flower-dealer came three times in +person to make a row and claim his spoiled materials. +</p> + +<p> +Nana idled along, constantly getting a hiding from her father, and wrangling +with her mother morning and night—quarrels in which the two women flung +horrible words at each other’s head. It couldn’t last; the twelfth +day she took herself off, with no more luggage than her modest dress on her +back and her cap perched over one ear. The Lorilleuxs, who had pursed their +lips on hearing of her return and repentance, nearly died of laughter now. +Second performance, eclipse number two, all aboard for the train for +Saint-Lazare, the prison-hospital for streetwalkers! No, it was really too +comical. Nana took herself off in such an amusing style. Well, if the Coupeaus +wanted to keep her in the future, they must shut her up in a cage. +</p> + +<p> +In the presence of other people the Coupeaus pretended they were very glad to +be rid of the girl, though in reality they were enraged. However, rage +can’t last forever, and soon they heard without even blinking that Nana +was seen in the neighborhood. Gervaise, who accused her of doing it to enrage +them, set herself above the scandal; she might meet her daughter on the street, +she said; she wouldn’t even dirty her hand to cuff her; yes, it was all +over; she might have seen her lying in the gutter, dying on the pavement, and +she would have passed by without even admitting that such a hussy was her own +child. +</p> + +<p> +Nana meanwhile was enlivening the dancing halls of the neighborhood. She was +known from the “Ball of Queen Blanche” to the “Great Hall of +Folly.” When she entered the “Elysee-Montmartre,” folks +climbed onto the tables to see her do the “sniffling crawfish” +during the pastourelle. As she had twice been turned out of the “Chateau +Rouge” hall, she walked outside the door waiting for someone she knew to +escort her inside. The “Black Ball” on the outer Boulevard and the +“Grand Turk” in the Rue des Poissonniers, were respectable places +where she only went when she had some fine dress on. Of all the jumping places +of the neighborhood, however, those she most preferred were the +“Hermitage Ball” in a damp courtyard and “Robert’s +Ball” in the Impasse du Cadran, two dirty little halls, lighted up with a +half dozen oil lamps, and kept very informally, everyone pleased and everyone +free, so much so that the men and their girls kissed each other at their ease, +in the dances, without being disturbed. Nana had ups and downs, perfect +transformations, now tricked out like a stylish woman and now all dirt. Ah! she +had a fine life. +</p> + +<p> +On several occasions the Coupeaus fancied they saw her in some shady dive. They +turned their backs and decamped in another direction so as not to be obliged to +recognize her. They didn’t care to be laughed at by a whole dancing hall +again for the sake of bringing such a dolt home. One night as they were going +to bed, however, someone knocked at the door. It was Nana who matter-of-factly +came to ask for a bed; and in what a state. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> her head was bare, +her dress in tatters, and her boots full of holes—such a toilet as might +have led the police to run her in, and take her off to the Depot. Naturally +enough she received a hiding, and then she gluttonously fell on a crust of +stale bread and went to sleep, worn out, with the last mouthful between her +teeth. +</p> + +<p> +Then this sort of life continued. As soon as she was somewhat recovered she +would go off and not a sight or sound of her. Weeks or months would pass and +she would suddenly appear with no explanation. The Coupeaus got used to these +comings and goings. Well, as long as she didn’t leave the door open. What +could you expect? +</p> + +<p> +There was only one thing that really bothered Gervaise. This was to see her +daughter come home in a dress with a train and a hat covered with feathers. No, +she couldn’t stomach this display. Nana might indulge in riotous living +if she chose, but when she came home to her mother’s she ought to dress +like a workgirl. The dresses with trains caused quite a sensation in the house; +the Lorilleuxs sneered; Lantier, whose mouth sneered, turned the girl round to +sniff at her delicious aroma; the Boches had forbidden Pauline to associate +with this baggage in her frippery. And Gervaise was also angered by +Nana’s exhausted slumber, when after one of her adventures, she slept +till noon, with her chignon undone and still full of hair pins, looking so +white and breathing so feebly that she seemed to be dead. Her mother shook her +five or six times in the course of the morning, threatening to throw a jugful +of water over her. The sight of this handsome lazy girl, half naked and +besotted with wine, exasperated her, as she saw her lying there. Sometimes Nana +opened an eye, closed it again, and then stretched herself out all the more. +</p> + +<p> +One day after reproaching her with the life she led and asking her if she had +taken on an entire battalion of soldiers, Gervaise put her threat into +execution to the extent of shaking her dripping hand over Nana’s body. +Quite infuriated, the girl pulled herself up in the sheet, and cried out: +</p> + +<p> +“That’s enough, mamma. It would be better not to talk of men. You +did as you liked, and now I do the same!” +</p> + +<p> +“What! What!” stammered the mother. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I never spoke to you about it, for it didn’t concern me; but +you didn’t used to be very fussy. I often saw you when we lived at the +shop sneaking off as soon as papa started snoring. So just shut up; you +shouldn’t have set me the example.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise remained pale, with trembling hands, turning round without knowing +what she was about, whilst Nana, flattened on her breast, embraced her pillow +with both arms and subsided into the torpor of her leaden slumber. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau growled, no longer sane enough to think of launching out a whack. He +was altogether losing his mind. And really there was no need to call him an +unprincipled father, for liquor had deprived him of all consciousness of good +and evil. +</p> + +<p> +Now it was a settled thing. He wasn’t sober once in six months; then he +was laid up and had to go into the Sainte-Anne hospital; a pleasure trip for +him. The Lorilleuxs said that the Duke of Bowel-Twister had gone to visit his +estates. At the end of a few weeks he left the asylum, repaired and set +together again, and then he began to pull himself to bits once more, till he +was down on his back and needed another mending. In three years he went seven +times to Sainte-Anne in this fashion. The neighborhood said that his cell was +kept ready for him. But the worst of the matter was that this obstinate tippler +demolished himself more and more each time so that from relapse to relapse one +could foresee the final tumble, the last cracking of this shaky cask, all the +hoops of which were breaking away, one after the other. +</p> + +<p> +At the same time, he forgot to improve in appearance; a perfect ghost to look +at! The poison was having terrible effects. By dint of imbibing alcohol, his +body shrunk up like the embryos displayed in glass jars in chemical +laboratories. When he approached a window you could see through his ribs, so +skinny had he become. Those who knew his age, only forty years just gone, +shuddered when he passed by, bent and unsteady, looking as old as the streets +themselves. And the trembling of his hands increased, the right one danced to +such an extent, that sometimes he had to take his glass between both fists to +carry it to his lips. Oh! that cursed trembling! It was the only thing that +worried his addled brains. You could hear him growling ferocious insults +against those hands of his. +</p> + +<p> +This last summer, during which Nana usually came home to spend her nights, +after she had finished knocking about, was especially bad for Coupeau. His +voice changed entirely as if liquor had set a new music in his throat. He +became deaf in one ear. Then in a few days his sight grew dim, and he had to +clutch hold of the stair railings to prevent himself from falling. As for his +health, he had abominable headaches and dizziness. All on a sudden he was +seized with acute pains in his arms and legs; he turned pale; was obliged to +sit down, and remained on a chair witless for hours; indeed, after one such +attack, his arm remained paralyzed for the whole day. He took to his bed +several times; he rolled himself up and hid himself under the sheet, breathing +hard and continuously like a suffering animal. Then the strange scenes of +Sainte-Anne began again. Suspicious and nervous, worried with a burning fever, +he rolled about in a mad rage, tearing his blouse and biting the furniture with +his convulsed jaws; or else he sank into a great state of emotion, complaining +like a child, sobbing and lamenting because nobody loved him. One night when +Gervaise and Nana returned home together they were surprised not to find him in +his bed. He had laid the bolster in his place. And when they discovered him, +hiding between the bed and the wall, his teeth were chattering, and he related +that some men had come to murder him. The two women were obliged to put him to +bed again and quiet him like a child. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau knew only one remedy, to toss down a pint of spirits; a whack in his +stomach, which set him on his feet again. This was how he doctored his gripes +of a morning. His memory had left him long ago, his brain was empty; and he no +sooner found himself on his feet than he poked fun at illness. He had never +been ill. Yes, he had got to the point when a fellow kicks the bucket declaring +that he’s quite well. And his wits were going a-wool-gathering in other +respects too. When Nana came home after gadding about for six weeks or so he +seemed to fancy she had returned from doing some errand in the neighborhood. +Often when she was hanging on an acquaintance’s arm she met him and +laughed at him without his recognizing her. In short, he no longer counted for +anything; she might have sat down on him if she had been at a loss for a chair. +</p> + +<p> +When the first frosts came Nana took herself off once more under the pretence +of going to the fruiterer’s to see if there were any baked pears. She +scented winter and didn’t care to let her teeth chatter in front of the +fireless stove. The Coupeaus had called her no good because they had waited for +the pears. No doubt she would come back again. The other winter she had stayed +away three weeks to fetch her father two sous’ worth of tobacco. But the +months went by and the girl did not show herself. This time she must have +indulged in a hard gallop. When June arrived she did not even turn up with the +sunshine. Evidently it was all over, she had found a new meal ticket somewhere +or other. One day when the Coupeaus were totally broke they sold Nana’s +iron bedstead for six francs, which they drank together at Saint-Ouen. The +bedstead had been in their way. +</p> + +<p> +One morning in July Virginie called to Gervaise, who was passing by, and asked +her to lend a hand in washing up, for Lantier had entertained a couple of +friends on the day before. And while Gervaise was cleaning up the plates and +dishes, greasy with the traces of the spread, the hatter, who was still +digesting in the shop, suddenly called out: +</p> + +<p> +“Say, I saw Nana the other day.” +</p> + +<p> +Virginie, who was seated at the counter looking very careworn in front of the +jars and drawers which were already three parts emptied, jerked her head +furiously. She restrained herself so as not to say too much, but really it was +angering her. Lantier was seeing Nana often. Oh! she was by no means sure of +him; he was a man to do much worse than that, when a fancy for a woman came +into his head. Madame Lerat, very intimate just then with Virginie, who +confided in her, had that moment entered the shop, and hearing Lantier’s +remark, she pouted ridiculously, and asked: +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, you saw her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, in the street here,” answered the hatter, who felt highly +flattered, and began to laugh and twirl his moustaches. “She was in a +carriage and I was floundering on the pavement. Really it was so, I swear it! +There’s no use denying it, the young fellows of position who are on +friendly terms with her are terribly lucky!” +</p> + +<p> +His eyes had brightened and he turned towards Gervaise who was standing in the +rear of the shop wiping a dish. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she was in a carriage, and wore such a stylish dress! I +didn’t recognise her, she looked so much like a lady of the upper set, +with her white teeth and her face as fresh as a flower. It was she who waved +her glove to me. She has caught a count, I believe. Oh! she’s launched +for good. She can afford to do without any of us; she’s head over heels +in happiness, the little beggar! What a love of a little kitten! No, +you’ve no idea what a little kitten she is!” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise was still wiping the same plate, although it had long since been clean +and shiny. Virginie was reflecting, anxious about a couple of bills which fell +due on the morrow and which she didn’t know how to pay; whilst Lantier, +stout and fat, perspiring the sugar he fed off, ventured his enthusiasm for +well-dressed little hussies. The shop, which was already three parts eaten up, +smelt of ruin. Yes, there were only a few more burnt almonds to nibble, a +little more barley-sugar to suck, to clean the Poissons’ business out. +Suddenly, on the pavement over the way, he perceived the policeman, who was on +duty, pass by all buttoned up with his sword dangling by his side. And this +made him all the gayer. He compelled Virginie to look at her husband. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me,” he muttered, “Badingue looks fine this morning! +Just look, see how stiff he walks. He must have stuck a glass eye in his back +to surprise people.” +</p> + +<p> +When Gervaise went back upstairs, she found Coupeau seated on the bed, in the +torpid state induced by one of his attacks. He was looking at the window-panes +with his dim expressionless eyes. She sat herself down on a chair, tired out, +her hands hanging beside her dirty skirt; and for a quarter of an hour she +remained in front of him without saying a word. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve had some news,” she muttered at last. “Your +daughter’s been seen. Yes, your daughter’s precious stylish and +hasn’t any more need of you. She’s awfully happy, she is! Ah! +<i>Mon Dieu!</i> I’d give a great deal to be in her place.” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau was still staring at the window-pane. But suddenly he raised his +ravaged face, and stammered with an idiotic laugh: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my little lamb, I’m not stopping you. You’re not yet +so bad looking when you wash yourself. As folks say, however old a pot may be, +it ends by finding its lid. And, after all, I wouldn’t care if it only +buttered our bread.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"></a> +CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p> +It must have been the Saturday after quarter day, something like the 12th or +13th of January—Gervaise didn’t quite know. She was losing her +wits, for it was centuries since she had had anything warm in her stomach. Ah! +what an infernal week! A complete clear out. Two loaves of four pounds each on +Tuesday, which had lasted till Thursday; then a dry crust found the night +before, and finally not a crumb for thirty-six hours, a real dance before the +cupboard! What did she know, by the way, what she felt on her back, was the +frightful cold, a black cold, the sky as grimy as a frying-pan, thick with snow +which obstinately refused to fall. When winter and hunger are both together in +your guts, you may tighten your belt as much as you like, it hardly feeds you. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps Coupeau would bring back some money in the evening. He said that he was +working. Anything is possible, isn’t it? And Gervaise, although she had +been caught many and many a time, had ended by relying on this coin. After all +sorts of incidents, she herself couldn’t find as much as a duster to wash +in the whole neighborhood; and even an old lady, whose rooms she did, had just +given her the sack, charging her with swilling her liqueurs. No one would +engage her, she was washed up everywhere; and this secretly suited her, for she +had fallen to that state of indifference when one prefers to croak rather than +move one’s fingers. At all events, if Coupeau brought his pay home they +would have something warm to eat. And meanwhile, as it wasn’t yet noon, +she remained stretched on the mattress, for one doesn’t feel so cold or +so hungry when one is lying down. +</p> + +<p> +The bed was nothing but a pile of straw in a corner. Bed and bedding had gone, +piece by piece, to the second-hand dealers of the neighborhood. First she had +ripped open the mattress to sell handfuls of wool at ten sous a pound. When the +mattress was empty she got thirty sous for the sack so as to be able to have +coffee. Everything else had followed. Well, wasn’t the straw good enough +for them? +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise bent herself like a gun-trigger on the heap of straw, with her clothes +on and her feet drawn up under her rag of a skirt, so as to keep them warm. And +huddled up, with her eyes wide open, she turned some scarcely amusing ideas +over in her mind that morning. Ah! no, they couldn’t continue living +without food. She no longer felt her hunger, only she had a leaden weight on +her chest and her brain seemed empty. Certainly there was nothing gay to look +at in the four corners of the hovel. A perfect kennel now, where greyhounds, +who wear wrappers in the streets, would not even have lived in effigy. Her pale +eyes stared at the bare walls. Everything had long since gone to +“uncle’s.” All that remained were the chest of drawers, the +table and a chair. Even the marble top of the chest of drawers and the drawers +themselves, had evaporated in the same direction as the bedstead. A fire could +not have cleaned them out more completely; the little knick-knacks had melted, +beginning with the ticker, a twelve franc watch, down to the family photos, the +frames of which had been bought by a woman keeping a second-hand store; a very +obliging woman, by the way, to whom Gervaise carried a saucepan, an iron, a +comb and who gave her five, three or two sous in exchange, according to the +article; enough, at all events to go upstairs again with a bit of bread. But +now there only remained a broken pair of candle snuffers, which the woman +refused to give her even a sou for. +</p> + +<p> +Oh! if she could only have sold the rubbish and refuse, the dust and the dirt, +how speedily she would have opened shop, for the room was filthy to behold! She +only saw cobwebs in the corners and although cobwebs are good for cuts, there +are, so far, no merchants who buy them. Then turning her head, abandoning the +idea of doing a bit of trade, Gervaise gathered herself together more closely +on her straw, preferring to stare through the window at the snow-laden sky, at +the dreary daylight, which froze the marrow in her bones. +</p> + +<p> +What a lot of worry! Though, after all, what was the use of putting herself in +such a state and puzzling her brains? If she had only been able to have a +snooze. But her hole of a home wouldn’t go out of her mind. Monsieur +Marescot, the landlord had come in person the day before to tell them that he +would turn them out into the street if the two quarters’ rent now overdue +were not paid during the ensuing week. Well, so he might, they certainly +couldn’t be worse off on the pavement! Fancy this ape, in his overcoat +and his woolen gloves, coming upstairs to talk to them about rent, as if they +had had a treasure hidden somewhere! +</p> + +<p> +Just the same with that brute of a Coupeau, who couldn’t come home now +without beating her; she wished him in the same place as the landlord. She sent +them all there, wishing to rid herself of everyone, and of life too. She was +becoming a real storehouse for blows. Coupeau had a cudgel, which he called his +ass’s fan, and he fanned his old woman. You should just have seen him +giving her abominable thrashings, which made her perspire all over. She was no +better herself, for she bit and scratched him. Then they stamped about in the +empty room and gave each other such drubbings as were likely to ease them of +all taste for bread for good. But Gervaise ended by not caring a fig for these +thwacks, not more than she did for anything else. Coupeau might celebrate Saint +Monday for weeks altogether, go off on the spree for months at a time, come +home mad with liquor, and seek to sharpen her as he said, she had grown +accustomed to it, she thought him tiresome, but nothing more. It was on these +occasions that she wished him somewhere else. Yes, somewhere, her beast of a +man and the Lorilleuxs, the Boches, and the Poissons too; in fact, the whole +neighborhood, which she had such contempt for. She sent all Paris there with a +gesture of supreme carelessness, and was pleased to be able to revenge herself +in this style. +</p> + +<p> +One could get used to almost anything, but still, it is hard to break the habit +of eating. That was the one thing that really annoyed Gervaise, the hunger that +kept gnawing at her insides. Oh, those pleasant little snacks she used to have. +Now she had fallen low enough to gobble anything she could find. +</p> + +<p> +On special occasions, she would get waste scraps of meat from the butcher for +four sous a pound. Blacked and dried out meat that couldn’t find a +purchaser. She would mix this with potatoes for a stew. On other occasions, +when she had some wine, she treated herself to a sop, a true parrot’s +pottage. Two sous’ worth of Italian cheese, bushels of white potatoes, +quarts of dry beans, cooked in their own juice, these also were dainties she +was not often able to indulge in now. She came down to leavings from low eating +dens, where for a sou she had a pile of fish-bones, mixed with the parings of +moldy roast meat. She fell even lower—she begged a charitable +eating-house keeper to give her his customers’ dry crusts, and she made +herself a bread soup, letting the crusts simmer as long as possible on a +neighbor’s fire. On the days when she was really hungry, she searched +about with the dogs, to see what might be lying outside the +tradespeople’s doors before the dustmen went by; and thus at times she +came across rich men’s food, rotten melons, stinking mackerel and chops, +which she carefully inspected for fear of maggots. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, she had come to this. The idea may be a repugnant one to delicate-minded +folks, but if they hadn’t chewed anything for three days running, we +should hardly see them quarreling with their stomachs; they would go down on +all fours and eat filth like other people. Ah! the death of the poor, the empty +entrails, howling hunger, the animal appetite that leads one with chattering +teeth to fill one’s stomach with beastly refuse in this great Paris, so +bright and golden! And to think that Gervaise used to fill her belly with fat +goose! Now the thought of it brought tears to her eyes. One day, when Coupeau +bagged two bread tickets from her to go and sell them and get some liquor, she +nearly killed him with the blow of a shovel, so hungered and so enraged was she +by this theft of a bit of bread. +</p> + +<p> +However, after a long contemplation of the pale sky, she had fallen into a +painful doze. She dreamt that the snow-laden sky was falling on her, so cruelly +did the cold pinch. Suddenly she sprang to her feet, awakened with a start by a +shudder of anguish. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> was she going to die? Shivering and +haggard she perceived that it was still daylight. Wouldn’t the night ever +come? How long the time seems when the stomach is empty! Hers was waking up in +its turn and beginning to torture her. Sinking down on the chair, with her head +bent and her hands between her legs to warm them, she began to think what they +would have for dinner as soon as Coupeau brought the money home: a loaf, a +quart of wine and two platefuls of tripe in the Lyonnaise fashion. Three +o’clock struck by father Bazouge’s clock. Yes, it was only three +o’clock. Then she began to cry. She would never have strength enough to +wait until seven. Her body swayed backwards and forwards, she oscillated like a +child nursing some sharp pain, bending herself double and crushing her stomach +so as not to feel it. Ah! an accouchement is less painful than hunger! And +unable to ease herself, seized with rage, she rose and stamped about, hoping to +send her hunger to sleep by walking it to and fro like an infant. For half an +hour or so, she knocked against the four corners of the empty room. Then, +suddenly, she paused with a fixed stare. So much the worse! They might say what +they liked; she would lick their feet if needs be, but she would go and ask the +Lorilleuxs to lend her ten sous. +</p> + +<p> +At winter time, up these stairs of the house, the paupers’ stairs, there +was a constant borrowing of ten sous and twenty sous, petty services which +these hungry beggars rendered each other. Only they would rather have died than +have applied to the Lorilleuxs, for they knew they were too tight-fisted. Thus +Gervaise displayed remarkable courage in going to knock at their door. She felt +so frightened in the passage that she experienced the sudden relief of people +who ring a dentist’s bell. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in!” cried the chainmaker in a sour voice. +</p> + +<p> +How warm and nice it was inside. The forge was blazing, its white flame +lighting up the narrow workroom, whilst Madame Lorilleux set a coil of gold +wire to heat. Lorilleux, in front of his worktable, was perspiring with the +warmth as he soldered the links of a chain together. And it smelt nice. Some +cabbage soup was simmering on the stove, exhaling a steam which turned +Gervaise’s heart topsy-turvy, and almost made her faint. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! it’s you,” growled Madame Lorilleux, without even asking +her to sit down. “What do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise did not answer for a moment. She had recently been on fairly good +terms with the Lorilleuxs, but she saw Boche sitting by the stove. He seemed +very much at home, telling funny stories. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want?” repeated Lorilleux. +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t seen Coupeau?” Gervaise finally stammered at +last. “I thought he was here.” +</p> + +<p> +The chainmakers and the concierge sneered. No, for certain, they hadn’t +seen Coupeau. They didn’t stand treat often enough to interest Coupeau. +Gervaise made an effort and resumed, stuttering: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s because he promised to come home. Yes, he’s to bring me +some money. And as I have absolute need of something—” +</p> + +<p> +Silence followed. Madame Lorilleux was roughly fanning the fire of the stove; +Lorilleux had lowered his nose over the bit of chain between his fingers, while +Boche continued laughing, puffing out his face till it looked like the full +moon. +</p> + +<p> +“If I only had ten sous,” muttered Gervaise, in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +The silence persisted. +</p> + +<p> +“Couldn’t you lend me ten sous? Oh! I would return them to you this +evening!” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lorilleux turned round and stared at her. Here was a wheedler trying to +get round them. To-day she asked them for ten sous, to-morrow it would be for +twenty, and there would be no reason to stop. No, indeed; it would be a warm +day in winter if they lent her anything. +</p> + +<p> +“But, my dear,” cried Madame Lorilleux. “You know very well +that we haven’t any money! Look! There’s the lining of my pocket. +You can search us. If we could, it would be with a willing heart, of +course.” +</p> + +<p> +“The heart’s always there,” growled Lorilleux. “Only +when one can’t, one can’t.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise looked very humble and nodded her head approvingly. However, she did +not take herself off. She squinted at the gold, at the gold tied together +hanging on the walls, at the gold wire the wife was drawing out with all the +strength of her little arms, at the gold links lying in a heap under the +husband’s knotty fingers. And she thought that the least bit of this ugly +black metal would suffice to buy her a good dinner. The workroom was as dirty +as ever, full of old iron, coal dust and sticky oil stains, half wiped away; +but now, as Gervaise saw it, it seemed resplendent with treasure, like a money +changer’s shop. And so she ventured to repeat softly: “I would +return them to you, return them without fail. Ten sous wouldn’t +inconvenience you.” +</p> + +<p> +Her heart was swelling with the effort she made not to own that she had had +nothing to eat since the day before. Then she felt her legs give way. She was +frightened that she might burst into tears, and she still stammered: +</p> + +<p> +“It would be kind of you! You don’t know. Yes, I’m reduced to +that, good Lord—reduced to that!” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon the Lorilleuxs pursed their lips and exchanged covert glances. So +Clump-clump was begging now! Well, the fall was complete. But they did not care +for that kind of thing by any means. If they had known, they would have +barricaded the door, for people should always be on their guard against +beggars—folks who make their way into apartments under a pretext and +carry precious objects away with them; and especially so in this place, as +there was something worth while stealing. One might lay one’s fingers no +matter where, and carry off thirty or forty francs by merely closing the hands. +They had felt suspicious several times already on noticing how strange Gervaise +looked when she stuck herself in front of the gold. This time, however, they +meant to watch her. And as she approached nearer, with her feet on the board, +the chainmaker roughly called out, without giving any further answer to her +question: “Look out, pest—take care; you’ll be carrying some +scraps of gold away on the soles of your shoes. One would think you had greased +them on purpose to make the gold stick to them.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise slowly drew back. For a moment she leant against a rack, and seeing +that Madame Lorilleux was looking at her hands, she opened them and showed +them, saying softly, without the least anger, like a fallen women who accepts +anything: +</p> + +<p> +“I have taken nothing; you can look.” +</p> + +<p> +And then she went off, because the strong smell of the cabbage soup and the +warmth of the workroom made her feel too ill. +</p> + +<p> +Ah! the Lorilleuxs did not detain her. Good riddance; just see if they opened +the door to her again. They had seen enough of her face. They didn’t want +other people’s misery in their rooms, especially when that misery was so +well deserved. They reveled in their selfish delight at being seated so cozily +in a warm room, with a dainty soup cooking. Boche also stretched himself, +puffing with his cheeks still more and more, so much, indeed, that his laugh +really became indecent. They were all nicely revenged on Clump-clump, for her +former manners, her blue shop, her spreads, and all the rest. It had all worked +out just as it should, proving where a love of showing-off would get you. +</p> + +<p> +“So that is the style now? Begging for ten sous,” cried Madame +Lorilleux as soon as Gervaise had gone. “Wait a bit; I’ll lend her +ten sous, and no mistake, to go and get drunk with.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise shuffled along the passage in her slippers, bending her back and +feeling heavy. On reaching her door she did not open it—her room +frightened her. It would be better to walk about, she would learn patience. As +she passed by she stretched out her neck, peering into Pere Bru’s kennel +under the stairs. There, for instance, was another one who must have a fine +appetite, for he had breakfasted and dined by heart during the last three days. +However, he wasn’t at home, there was only his hole, and Gervaise felt +somewhat jealous, thinking that perhaps he had been invited somewhere. Then, as +she reached the Bijards’ she heard Lalie moaning, and, as the key was in +the lock as usual, she opened the door and went in. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +The room was very clean. One could see that Lalie had carefully swept it, and +arranged everything during the morning. Misery might blow into the room as much +as it liked, carry off the chattels and spread all the dirt and refuse about. +Lalie, however, came behind and tidied everything, imparting, at least, some +appearance of comfort within. She might not be rich, but you realized that +there was a housewife in the place. That afternoon her two little ones, +Henriette and Jules, had found some old pictures which they were cutting out in +a corner. But Gervaise was greatly surprised to see Lalie herself in bed, +looking very pale, with the sheet drawn up to her chin. In bed, indeed, then +she must be seriously ill! +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter with you?” inquired Gervaise, feeling anxious. +</p> + +<p> +Lalie no longer groaned. She slowly raised her white eyelids, and tried to +compel her lips to smile, although they were convulsed by a shudder. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s nothing the matter with me,” she whispered very +softly. “Really nothing at all.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, closing her eyes again, she added with an effort: +</p> + +<p> +“I made myself too tired during the last few days, and so I’m doing +the idle; I’m nursing myself, as you see.” +</p> + +<p> +But her childish face, streaked with livid stains, assumed such an expression +of anguish that Gervaise, forgetting her own agony, joined her hands and fell +on her knees near the bed. For the last month she had seen the girl clinging to +the walls for support when she went about, bent double indeed, by a cough which +seemed to presage a coffin. Now the poor child could not even cough. She had a +hiccough and drops of blood oozed from the corners of her mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not my fault if I hardly feel strong,” she murmured, as +if relieved. “I’ve tired myself to-day, trying to put things to +rights. It’s pretty tidy, isn’t it? And I wanted to clean the +windows as well, but my legs failed me. How stupid! However, when one has +finished one can go to bed.” +</p> + +<p> +She paused, then said, “Pray, see if my little ones are not cutting +themselves with the scissors.” +</p> + +<p> +And then she relapsed into silence, trembling and listening to a heavy footfall +which was approaching up the stairs. Suddenly father Bijard brutally opened the +door. As usual he was far gone, and his eyes shone with the furious madness +imparted by the vitriol he had swallowed. When he perceived Lalie in bed, he +tapped on his thighs with a sneer, and took the whip from where it hung. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! by blazes, that’s too much,” he growled, +“we’ll soon have a laugh. So the cows lie down on their straw at +noon now! Are you poking fun at me, you lazy beggar? Come, quick now, up you +get!” +</p> + +<p> +And he cracked the whip over the bed. But the child beggingly replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Pray, papa, don’t—don’t strike me. I swear to you you +will regret it. Don’t strike!” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you jump up?” he roared still louder, “or else +I’ll tickle your ribs! Jump up, you little hound!” +</p> + +<p> +Then she softly said, “I can’t—do you understand? I’m +going to die.” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise had sprung upon Bijard and torn the whip away from him. He stood +bewildered in front of the bed. What was the dirty brat talking about? Do girls +die so young without even having been ill? Some excuse to get sugar out of him +no doubt. Ah! he’d make inquiries, and if she lied, let her look out! +</p> + +<p> +“You will see, it’s the truth,” she continued. “As long +as I could I avoided worrying you; but be kind now, and bid me good-bye, +papa.” +</p> + +<p> +Bijard wriggled his nose as if he fancied she was deceiving him. And yet it was +true she had a singular look, the serious mien of a grown up person. The breath +of death which passed through the room in some measure sobered him. He gazed +around like a man awakened from a long sleep, saw the room so tidy, the two +children clean, playing and laughing. And then he sank on to a chair +stammering, “Our little mother, our little mother.” +</p> + +<p> +Those were the only words he could find to say, and yet they were very tender +ones to Lalie, who had never been much spoiled. She consoled her father. What +especially worried her was to go off like this without having completely +brought up the little ones. He would take care of them, would he not? With her +dying breath she told him how they ought to be cared for and kept clean. But +stultified, with the fumes of drink seizing hold of him again, he wagged his +head, watching her with an uncertain stare as she was dying. All kind of things +were touched in him, but he could find no more to say and he was too utterly +burnt with liquor to shed a tear. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” resumed Lalie, after a pause. “We owe four francs +and seven sous to the baker; you must pay that. Madame Gaudron borrowed an iron +of ours, which you must get from her. I wasn’t able to make any soup this +evening, but there’s some bread left and you can warm up the +potatoes.” +</p> + +<p> +Till her last rattle, the poor kitten still remained the little mother. Surely +she could never be replaced! She was dying because she had had, at her age, a +true mother’s reason, because her breast was too small and weak for so +much maternity. And if her ferocious beast of a father lost his treasure, it +was his own fault. After kicking the mother to death, hadn’t he murdered +the daughter as well? The two good angels would lie in the pauper’s grave +and all that could be in store for him was to kick the bucket like a dog in the +gutter. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise restrained herself not to burst out sobbing. She extended her hands, +desirous of easing the child, and as the shred of a sheet was falling, she +wished to tack it up and arrange the bed. Then the dying girl’s poor +little body was seen. Ah! <i>Mon Dieu!</i> what misery! What woe! Stones would +have wept. Lalie was bare, with only the remnants of a camisole on her +shoulders by way of chemise; yes, bare, with the grievous, bleeding nudity of a +martyr. She had no flesh left; her bones seemed to protrude through the skin. +From her ribs to her thighs there extended a number of violet stripes—the +marks of the whip forcibly imprinted on her. A livid bruise, moreover, +encircled her left arm, as if the tender limb, scarcely larger than a lucifer, +had been crushed in a vise. There was also an imperfectly closed wound on her +right leg, left there by some ugly blow and which opened again and again of a +morning, when she went about doing her errands. From head to foot, indeed, she +was but one bruise! Oh! this murdering of childhood; those heavy hands crushing +this lovely girl; how abominable that such weakness should have such a weighty +cross to bear! Again did Gervaise crouch down, no longer thinking of tucking in +the sheet, but overwhelmed by the pitiful sight of this martyrdom; and her +trembling lips seemed to be seeking for words of prayer. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Coupeau,” murmured the child, “I beg +you—” +</p> + +<p> +With her little arms she tried to draw up the sheet again, ashamed as it were +for her father. Bijard, as stultified as ever, with his eyes on the corpse +which was his own work, still wagged his head, but more slowly, like a worried +animal might do. +</p> + +<p> +When she had covered Lalie up again, Gervaise felt she could not remain there +any longer. The dying girl was growing weaker and ceased speaking; all that was +left to her was her gaze—the dark look she had had as a resigned and +thoughtful child and which she now fixed on her two little ones who were still +cutting out their pictures. The room was growing gloomy and Bijard was working +off his liquor while the poor girl was in her death agonies. No, no, life was +too abominable! How frightful it was! How frightful! And Gervaise took herself +off, and went down the stairs, not knowing what she was doing, her head +wandering and so full of disgust that she would willingly have thrown herself +under the wheels of an omnibus to have finished with her own existence. +</p> + +<p> +As she hastened on, growling against cursed fate, she suddenly found herself in +front of the place where Coupeau pretended that he worked. Her legs had taken +her there, and now her stomach began singing its song again, the complaint of +hunger in ninety verses—a complaint she knew by heart. However, if she +caught Coupeau as he left, she would be able to pounce upon the coin at once +and buy some grub. A short hour’s waiting at the utmost; she could surely +stay that out, though she had sucked her thumbs since the day before. +</p> + +<p> +She was at the corner of Rue de la Charbonniere and Rue de Chartres. A chill +wind was blowing and the sky was an ugly leaden grey. The impending snow hung +over the city but not a flake had fallen as yet. She tried stamping her feet to +keep warm, but soon stopped as there was no use working up an appetite. +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing amusing about. The few passers-by strode rapidly along, +wrapped up in comforters; naturally enough one does not care to tarry when the +cold is nipping at your heels. However, Gervaise perceived four or five women +who were mounting guard like herself outside the door of the zinc-works; +unfortunate creatures of course—wives watching for the pay to prevent it +going to the dram-shop. There was a tall creature as bulky as a gendarme +leaning against the wall, ready to spring on her husband as soon as he showed +himself. A dark little woman with a delicate humble air was walking about on +the other side of the way. Another one, a fat creature, had brought her two +brats with her and was dragging them along, one on either hand, and both of +them shivering and sobbing. And all these women, Gervaise like the others, +passed and repassed, exchanging glances, but without speaking to one another. A +pleasant meeting and no mistake. They didn’t need to make friends to +learn what number they lived at. They could all hang out the same sideboard, +“Misery & Co.” It seemed to make one feel even colder to see +them walk about in silence, passing each other in this terrible January +weather. +</p> + +<p> +However, nobody as yet left the zinc-works. But presently one workman appeared, +then two, and then three, but these were no doubt decent fellows who took their +pay home regularly, for they jerked their heads significantly as they saw the +shadows wandering up and down. The tall creature stuck closer than ever to the +side of the door, and suddenly fell upon a pale little man who was prudently +poking his head out. Oh! it was soon settled! She searched him and collared his +coin. Caught, no more money, not even enough to pay for a dram! Then the little +man, looking very vexed and cast down, followed his gendarme, weeping like a +child. The workmen were still coming out; and as the fat mother with the two +brats approached the door, a tall fellow, with a cunning look, who noticed her, +went hastily inside again to warn her husband; and when the latter arrived he +had stuffed a couple of cart wheels away, two beautiful new five franc pieces, +one in each of his shoes. He took one of the brats on his arm, and went off +telling a variety of lies to his old woman who was complaining. There were +other workmen also, mournful-looking fellows, who carried in their clinched +fists the pay for the three or five days’ work they had done during a +fortnight, who reproached themselves with their own laziness, and took +drunkards’ oaths. But the saddest thing of all was the grief of the dark +little woman, with the humble, delicate look; her husband, a handsome fellow, +took himself off under her very nose, and so brutally indeed that he almost +knocked her down, and she went home alone, stumbling past the shops and weeping +all the tears in her body. +</p> + +<p> +At last the defile finished. Gervaise, who stood erect in the middle of the +street, was still watching the door. The look-out seemed a bad one. A couple of +workmen who were late appeared on the threshold, but there were still no signs +of Coupeau. And when she asked the workmen if Coupeau wasn’t coming, they +answered her, being up to snuff, that he had gone off by the back-door with +Lantimeche. Gervaise understood what this meant. Another of Coupeau’s +lies; she could whistle for him if she liked. Then shuffling along in her +worn-out shoes, she went slowly down the Rue de la Charbonniere. Her dinner was +going off in front of her, and she shuddered as she saw it running away in the +yellow twilight. This time it was all over. Not a copper, not a hope, nothing +but night and hunger. Ah! a fine night to kick the bucket, this dirty night +which was falling over her shoulders! +</p> + +<p> +She was walking heavily up the Rue des Poissonniers when she suddenly heard +Coupeau’s voice. Yes, he was there in the Little Civet, letting My-Boots +treat him. That comical chap, My-Boots, had been cunning enough at the end of +last summer to espouse in authentic fashion a lady who, although rather +advanced in years, had still preserved considerable traces of beauty. She was a +lady-of-the-evening of the Rue des Martyrs, none of your common street hussies. +And you should have seen this fortunate mortal, living like a man of means, +with his hands in his pockets, well clad and well fed. He could hardly be +recognised, so fat had he grown. His comrades said that his wife had as much +work as she liked among the gentlemen of her acquaintance. A wife like that and +a country-house is all one can wish for to embellish one’s life. And so +Coupeau squinted admiringly at My-Boots. Why, the lucky dog even had a gold +ring on his little finger! +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise touched Coupeau on the shoulder just as he was coming out of the +little Civet. +</p> + +<p> +“Say, I’m waiting; I’m hungry! I’ve got an empty +stomach which is all I ever get from you.” +</p> + +<p> +But he silenced her in a capital style, “You’re hungry, eh? Well, +eat your fist, and keep the other for to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +He considered it highly improper to do the dramatic in other people’s +presence. What, he hadn’t worked, and yet the bakers kneaded bread all +the same. Did she take him for a fool, to come and try to frighten him with her +stories? +</p> + +<p> +“Do you want me to turn thief?” she muttered, in a dull voice. +</p> + +<p> +My-Boots stroked his chin in conciliatory fashion. “No, that’s +forbidden,” said he. “But when a woman knows how to handle +herself—” +</p> + +<p> +And Coupeau interrupted him to call out “Bravo!” Yes, a woman +always ought to know how to handle herself, but his wife had always been a +helpless thing. It would be her fault if they died on the straw. Then he +relapsed into his admiration for My-Boots. How awfully fine he looked! A +regular landlord; with clean linen and swell shoes! They were no common stuff! +His wife, at all events, knew how to keep the pot boiling! +</p> + +<p> +The two men walked towards the outer Boulevard, and Gervaise followed them. +After a pause, she resumed, talking behind Coupeau’s back: +“I’m hungry; you know, I relied on you. You must find me something +to nibble.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not answer, and she repeated, in a tone of despairing agony: “Is +that all I get from you?” +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mon Dieu!</i> I’ve no coin,” he roared, turning round in +a fury. “Just leave me alone, eh? Or else I’ll hit you.” +</p> + +<p> +He was already raising his fist. She drew back, and seemed to make up her mind. +“All right, I’ll leave you. I guess I can find a man.” +</p> + +<p> +The zinc-worker laughed at this. He pretended to make a joke of the matter, and +strengthened her purpose without seeming to do so. That was a fine idea of +hers, and no mistake! In the evening, by gaslight, she might still hook a man. +He recommended her to try the Capuchin restaurant where one could dine very +pleasantly in a small private room. And, as she went off along the Boulevard, +looking pale and furious he called out to her: “Listen, bring me back +some dessert. I like cakes! And if your gentleman is well dressed, ask him for +an old overcoat. I could use one.” +</p> + +<p> +With these words ringing in her ears, Gervaise walked softly away. But when she +found herself alone in the midst of the crowd, she slackened her pace. She was +quite resolute. Between thieving and the other, well she preferred the other; +for at all events she wouldn’t harm any one. No doubt it wasn’t +proper. But what was proper and what was improper was sorely muddled together +in her brain. When you are dying of hunger, you don’t philosophize, you +eat whatever bread turns up. She had gone along as far as the +Chaussee-Clignancourt. It seemed as if the night would never come. However, she +followed the Boulevards like a lady who is taking a stroll before dinner. The +neighborhood in which she felt so ashamed, so greatly was it being embellished, +was now full of fresh air. +</p> + +<p> +Lost in the crowd on the broad footway, walking past the little plane trees, +Gervaise felt alone and abandoned. The vistas of the avenues seemed to empty +her stomach all the more. And to think that among this flood of people there +were many in easy circumstances, and yet not a Christian who could guess her +position, and slip a ten sous piece into her hand! Yes, it was too great and +too beautiful; her head swam and her legs tottered under this broad expanse of +grey sky stretched over so vast a space. The twilight had the dirty-yellowish +tinge of Parisian evenings, a tint that gives you a longing to die at once, so +ugly does street life seem. The horizon was growing indistinct, assuming a +mud-colored tinge as it were. Gervaise, who was already weary, met all the +workpeople returning home. At this hour of the day the ladies in bonnets and +the well-dressed gentlemen living in the new houses mingled with the people, +with the files of men and women still pale from inhaling the tainted atmosphere +of workshops and workrooms. From the Boulevard Magenta and the Rue du +Faubourg-Poissonniere, came bands of people, rendered breathless by their +uphill walk. As the omnivans and the cabs rolled by less noiselessly among the +vans and trucks returning home empty at a gallop, an ever-increasing swarm of +blouses and blue vests covered the pavement. Commissionaires returned with +their crotchets on their backs. Two workmen took long strides side by side, +talking to each other in loud voices, with any amount of gesticulation, but +without looking at one another; others who were alone in overcoats and caps +walked along the curbstones with lowered noses; others again came in parties of +five or six, following each other, with pale eyes and their hands in their +pockets and not exchanging a word. Some still had their pipes, which had gone +out between their teeth. Four masons poked their white faces out of the windows +of a cab which they had hired between them, and on the roof of which their +mortar-troughs rocked to and fro. House-painters were swinging their pots; a +zinc-worker was returning laden with a long ladder, with which he almost poked +people’s eyes out; whilst a belated plumber, with his box on his back, +played the tune of “The Good King Dagobert” on his little trumpet. +Ah! the sad music, a fitting accompaniment to the tread of the flock, the tread +of the weary beasts of burden. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly on raising her eyes she noticed the old Hotel Boncoeur in front of +her. After being an all-night cafe, which the police had closed down, the +little house was now abandoned; the shutters were covered with posters, the +lantern was broken, and the whole building was rotting and crumbling away from +top to bottom, with its smudgy claret-colored paint, quite moldy. The +stationer’s and the tobacconist’s were still there. In the rear, +over some low buildings, you could see the leprous facades of several +five-storied houses rearing their tumble-down outlines against the sky. The +“Grand Balcony” dancing hall no longer existed; some sugar-cutting +works, which hissed continually, had been installed in the hall with the ten +flaming windows. And yet it was here, in this dirty den—the Hotel +Boncoeur—that the whole cursed life had commenced. Gervaise remained +looking at the window of the first floor, from which hung a broken shutter, and +recalled to mind her youth with Lantier, their first rows and the ignoble way +in which he had abandoned her. Never mind, she was young then, and it all +seemed gay to her, seen from a distance. Only twenty years. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> +and yet she had fallen to street-walking. Then the sight of the lodging house +oppressed her and she walked up the Boulevard in the direction of Montmartre. +</p> + +<p> +The night was gathering, but children were still playing on the heaps of sand +between the benches. The march past continued, the workgirls went by, trotting +along and hurrying to make up for the time they had lost in looking in at the +shop windows; one tall girl, who had stopped, left her hand in that of a big +fellow, who accompanied her to within three doors of her home; others as they +parted from each other, made appointments for the night at the “Great +Hall of Folly” or the “Black Ball.” In the midst of the +groups, piece-workmen went by, carrying their clothes folded under their arms. +A chimney sweep, harnessed with leather braces, was drawing a cart along, and +nearly got himself crushed by an omnibus. Among the crowd which was now growing +scantier, there were several women running with bare heads; after lighting the +fire, they had come downstairs again and were hastily making their purchases +for dinner; they jostled the people they met, darted into the bakers’ and +the pork butchers’, and went off again with all despatch, their +provisions in their hands. There were little girls of eight years old, who had +been sent out on errands, and who went along past the shops, pressing long +loaves of four pounds’ weight, as tall as they were themselves, against +their chests, as if these loaves had been beautiful yellow dolls; at times +these little ones forgot themselves for five minutes or so, in front of some +pictures in a shop window, and rested their cheeks against the bread. Then the +flow subsided, the groups became fewer and farther between, the working classes +had gone home; and as the gas blazed now that the day’s toil was over, +idleness and amusement seemed to wake up. +</p> + +<p> +Ah! yes; Gervaise had finished her day! She was wearier even than all this mob +of toilers who had jostled her as they went by. She might lie down there and +croak, for work would have nothing more to do with her, and she had toiled +enough during her life to say: “Whose turn now? I’ve had +enough.” At present everyone was eating. It was really the end, the sun +had blown out its candle, the night would be a long one. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> To +stretch one’s self at one’s ease and never get up again; to think +one had put one’s tools by for good and that one could ruminate like a +cow forever! That’s what is good, after tiring one’s self out for +twenty years! And Gervaise, as hunger twisted her stomach, thought in spite of +herself of the fete days, the spreads and the revelry of her life. Of one +occasion especially, an awfully cold day, a mid-Lent Thursday. She had enjoyed +herself wonderfully well. She was very pretty, fair-haired and fresh looking at +that time. Her wash-house in the Rue Neuve had chosen her as queen in spite of +her leg. And then they had had an outing on the boulevards in carts decked with +greenery, in the midst of stylish people who ogled her. Real gentlemen put up +their glasses as if she had been a true queen. In the evening there was a +wonderful spread, and then they had danced till daylight. Queen; yes Queen! +With a crown and a sash for twenty-four hours—twice round the clock! And +now oppressed by hunger, she looked on the ground, as if she were seeking for +the gutter in which she had let her fallen majesty tumble. +</p> + +<p> +She raised her eyes again. She was in front of the slaughter-houses which were +being pulled down; through the gaps in the facade one could see the dark, +stinking courtyards, still damp with blood. And when she had gone down the +Boulevard again, she also saw the Lariboisiere Hospital, with its long grey +wall, above which she could distinguish the mournful, fan-like wings, pierced +with windows at even distances. A door in the wall filled the neighborhood with +dread; it was the door of the dead in solid oak, and without a crack, as stern +and as silent as a tombstone. Then to escape her thoughts, she hurried further +down till she reached the railway bridge. The high parapets of riveted +sheet-iron hid the line from view; she could only distinguish a corner of the +station standing out against the luminous horizon of Paris, with a vast roof +black with coal-dust. Through the clear space she could hear the engines +whistling and the cars being shunted, in token of colossal hidden activity. +Then a train passed by, leaving Paris, with puffing breath and a growing +rumble. And all she perceived of this train was a white plume, a sudden gust of +steam which rose above the parapet and then evaporated. But the bridge had +shaken, and she herself seemed impressed by this departure at full speed. She +turned round as if to follow the invisible engine, the noise of which was dying +away. +</p> + +<p> +She caught a glimpse of open country through a gap between tall buildings. Oh, +if only she could have taken a train and gone away, far away from this poverty +and suffering. She might have started an entirely new life! Then she turned to +look at the posters on the bridge sidings. One was on pretty blue paper and +offered a fifty-franc reward for a lost dog. Someone must have really loved +that dog! +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise slowly resumed her walk. In the smoky fog which was falling, the gas +lamps were being lighted up; and the long avenues, which had grown bleak and +indistinct, suddenly showed themselves plainly again, sparkling to their full +length and piercing through the night, even to the vague darkness of the +horizon. A great gust swept by; the widened spaces were lighted up with girdles +of little flames, shining under the far-stretching moonless sky. It was the +hour when, from one end of the Boulevard to the other, the dram-shops and the +dancing-halls flamed gayly as the first glasses were merrily drunk and the +first dance began. It was the great fortnightly pay-day, and the pavement was +crowded with jostling revelers on the spree. There was a breath of merrymaking +in the air—deuced fine revelry, but not objectionable so far. Fellows +were filling themselves in the eating-houses; through the lighted windows you +could see people feeding, with their mouths full and laughing without taking +the trouble to swallow first. Drunkards were already installed in the +wineshops, squabbling and gesticulating. And there was a cursed noise on all +sides, voices shouting amid the constant clatter of feet on the pavement. +</p> + +<p> +“Say, are you coming to sip?” “Make haste, old man; +I’ll pay for a glass of bottled wine.” “Here’s Pauline! +Shan’t we just laugh!” The doors swung to and fro, letting a smell +of wine and a sound of cornet playing escape into the open air. There was a +gathering in front of Pere Colombe’s l’Assommoir, which was lighted +up like a cathedral for high mass. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> you would have said a real +ceremony was going on, for several capital fellows, with rounded paunches and +swollen cheeks, looking for all the world like professional choristers, were +singing inside. They were celebrating Saint-Pay, of course—a very amiable +saint, who no doubt keeps the cash box in Paradise. Only, on seeing how gaily +the evening began, the retired petty tradesmen who had taken their wives out +for a stroll wagged their heads, and repeated that there would be any number of +drunken men in Paris that night. And the night stretched very dark, dead-like +and icy, above this revelry, perforated only with lines of gas lamps extending +to the four corners of heaven. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise stood in front of l’Assommoir, thinking that if she had had a +couple of sous she could have gone inside and drunk a dram. No doubt a dram +would have quieted her hunger. Ah! what a number of drams she had drunk in her +time! Liquor seemed good stuff to her after all. And from outside she watched +the drunk-making machine, realizing that her misfortune was due to it, and yet +dreaming of finishing herself off with brandy on the day she had some coin. But +a shudder passed through her hair as she saw it was now almost dark. Well, the +night time was approaching. She must have some pluck and sell herself coaxingly +if she didn’t wish to kick the bucket in the midst of the general +revelry. Looking at other people gorging themselves didn’t precisely fill +her own stomach. She slackened her pace again and looked around her. There was +a darker shade under the trees. Few people passed along, only folks in a hurry, +who swiftly crossed the Boulevards. And on the broad, dark, deserted footway, +where the sound of the revelry died away, women were standing and waiting. They +remained for long intervals motionless, patient and as stiff-looking as the +scrubby little plane trees; then they slowly began to move, dragging their +slippers over the frozen soil, taking ten steps or so and then waiting again, +rooted as it were to the ground. There was one of them with a huge body and +insect-like arms and legs, wearing a black silk rag, with a yellow scarf over +her head; there was another one, tall and bony, who was bareheaded and wore a +servant’s apron; and others, too—old ones plastered up and young +ones so dirty that a ragpicker would not have picked them up. However, Gervaise +tried to learn what to do by imitating them; girlish-like emotion tightened her +throat; she was hardly aware whether she felt ashamed or not; she seemed to be +living in a horrible dream. For a quarter of an hour she remained standing +erect. Men hurried by without even turning their heads. Then she moved about in +her turn, and venturing to accost a man who was whistling with his hands in his +pockets, she murmured, in a strangled voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, listen a moment—” +</p> + +<p> +The man gave her a side glance and then went off, whistling all the louder. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise grew bolder, and, with her stomach empty, she became absorbed in this +chase, fiercely rushing after her dinner, which was still running away. She +walked about for a long while, without thinking of the flight of time or of the +direction she took. Around her the dark, mute women went to and fro under the +trees like wild beasts in a cage. They stepped out of the shade like +apparitions, and passed under the light of a gas lamp with their pale masks +fully apparent; then they grew vague again as they went off into the darkness, +with a white strip of petticoat swinging to and fro. Men let themselves be +stopped at times, talked jokingly, and then started off again laughing. Others +would quietly follow a woman to her room, discreetly, ten paces behind. There +was a deal of muttering, quarreling in an undertone and furious bargaining, +which suddenly subsided into profound silence. And as far as Gervaise went she +saw these women standing like sentinels in the night. They seemed to be placed +along the whole length of the Boulevard. As soon as she met one she saw another +twenty paces further on, and the file stretched out unceasingly. Entire Paris +was guarded. She grew enraged on finding herself disdained, and changing her +place, she now perambulated between the Chaussee de Clignancourt and the Grand +Rue of La Chapelle. All were beggars. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, just listen.” +</p> + +<p> +But the men passed by. She started from the slaughter-houses, which stank of +blood. She glanced on her way at the old Hotel Boncoeur, now closed. She passed +in front of the Lariboisiere Hospital, and mechanically counted the number of +windows that were illuminated with a pale quiet glimmer, like that of +night-lights at the bedside of some agonizing sufferers. She crossed the +railway bridge as the trains rushed by with a noisy rumble, rending the air in +twain with their shrill whistling! Ah! how sad everything seemed at night-time! +Then she turned on her heels again and filled her eyes with the sight of the +same houses, doing this ten and twenty times without pausing, without resting +for a minute on a bench. No; no one wanted her. Her shame seemed to be +increased by this contempt. She went down towards the hospital again, and then +returned towards the slaughter-houses. It was her last promenade—from the +blood-stained courtyards, where animals were slaughtered, down to the pale +hospital wards, where death stiffened the patients stretched between the +sheets. It was between these two establishments that she had passed her life. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, just listen.” +</p> + +<p> +But suddenly she perceived her shadow on the ground. When she approached a +gas-lamp it gradually became less vague, till it stood out at last in full +force—an enormous shadow it was, positively grotesque, so portly had she +become. Her stomach, breast and hips, all equally flabby jostled together as it +were. She walked with such a limp that the shadow bobbed almost topsy-turvy at +every step she took; it looked like a real Punch! Then as she left the street +lamp behind her, the Punch grew taller, becoming in fact gigantic, filling the +whole Boulevard, bobbing to and fro in such style that it seemed fated to smash +its nose against the trees or the houses. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> how frightful she +was! She had never realised her disfigurement so thoroughly. And she could not +help looking at her shadow; indeed, she waited for the gas-lamps, still +watching the Punch as it bobbed about. Ah! she had a pretty companion beside +her! What a figure! It ought to attract the men at once! And at the thought of +her unsightliness, she lowered her voice, and only just dared to stammer behind +the passers-by: +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, just listen.” +</p> + +<p> +It was now getting quite late. Matters were growing bad in the neighborhood. +The eating-houses had closed and voices, gruff with drink, could be heard +disputing in the wineshops. Revelry was turning to quarreling and fisticuffs. A +big ragged chap roared out, “I’ll knock yer to bits; just count yer +bones.” A large woman had quarreled with a fellow outside a dancing +place, and was calling him “dirty blackguard” and “lousy +bum,” whilst he on his side just muttered under his breath. Drink seemed +to have imparted a fierce desire to indulge in blows, and the passers-by, who +were now less numerous, had pale contracted faces. There was a battle at last; +one drunken fellow came down on his back with all four limbs raised in the air, +whilst his comrade, thinking he had done for him, ran off with his heavy shoes +clattering over the pavement. Groups of men sang dirty songs and then there +would be long silences broken only by hiccoughs or the thud of a drunk falling +down. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise still hobbled about, going up and down, with the idea of walking +forever. At times, she felt drowsy and almost went to sleep, rocked, as it +were, by her lame leg; then she looked round her with a start, and noticed she +had walked a hundred yards unconsciously. Her feet were swelling in her ragged +shoes. The last clear thought that occupied her mind was that her hussy of a +daughter was perhaps eating oysters at that very moment. Then everything became +cloudy; and, albeit, she remained with open eyes, it required too great an +effort for her to think. The only sensation that remained to her, in her utter +annihilation, was that it was frightfully cold, so sharply, mortally cold, she +had never known the like before. Why, even dead people could not feel so cold +in their graves. With an effort she raised her head, and something seemed to +lash her face. It was the snow, which had at last decided to fall from the +smoky sky—fine thick snow, which the breeze swept round and round. For +three days it had been expected and what a splendid moment it chose to appear. +</p> + +<p> +Woken up by the first gusts, Gervaise began to walk faster. Eager to get home, +men were running along, with their shoulders already white. And as she suddenly +saw one who, on the contrary, was coming slowly towards her under the trees, +she approached him and again said: “Sir, just listen—” +</p> + +<p> +The man has stopped. But he did not seem to have heard her. He held out his +hand, and muttered in a low voice: “Charity, if you please!” +</p> + +<p> +They looked at one another. Ah! <i>Mon Dieu!</i> They were reduced to +this—Pere Bru begging, Madame Coupeau walking the streets! They remained +stupefied in front of each other. They could join hands as equals now. The old +workman had prowled about the whole evening, not daring to stop anyone, and the +first person he accosted was as hungry as himself. Lord, was it not pitiful! To +have toiled for fifty years and be obliged to beg! To have been one of the most +prosperous laundresses in the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or and to end beside the +gutter! They still looked at one another. Then, without saying a word, they +went off in different directions under the lashing snow. +</p> + +<p> +It was a perfect tempest. On these heights, in the midst of this open space, +the fine snow revolved round and round as if the wind came from the four +corners of heaven. You could not see ten paces off, everything was confused in +the midst of this flying dust. The surroundings had disappeared, the Boulevard +seemed to be dead, as if the storm had stretched the silence of its white sheet +over the hiccoughs of the last drunkards. Gervaise still went on, blinded, +lost. She felt her way by touching the trees. As she advanced the gas-lamps +shone out amidst the whiteness like torches. Then, suddenly, whenever she +crossed an open space, these lights failed her; she was enveloped in the +whirling snow, unable to distinguish anything to guide her. Below stretched the +ground, vaguely white; grey walls surrounded her, and when she paused, +hesitating and turning her head, she divined that behind this icy veil extended +the immense avenue with interminable vistas of gas-lamps—the black and +deserted Infinite of Paris asleep. +</p> + +<p> +She was standing where the outer Boulevard meets the Boulevards Magenta and +Ornano, thinking of lying down on the ground, when suddenly she heard a +footfall. She began to run, but the snow blinded her, and the footsteps went +off without her being able to tell whether it was to the right or to the left. +At last, however, she perceived a man’s broad shoulders, a dark form +which was disappearing amid the snow. Oh! she wouldn’t let this man get +away. And she ran on all the faster, reached him, and caught him by the blouse: +“Sir, sir, just listen.” +</p> + +<p> +The man turned round. It was Goujet. +</p> + +<p> +So now she had accosted Golden-Beard. But what had she done on earth to be +tortured like this by Providence? It was the crowning blow—to stumble +against Goujet, and be seen by her blacksmith friend, pale and begging, like a +common street walker. And it happened just under a gas-lamp; she could see her +deformed shadow swaying on the snow like a real caricature. You would have said +she was drunk. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> not to have a crust of bread, or a drop of wine +in her body, and to be taken for a drunken women! It was her own fault, why did +she booze? Goujet no doubt thought she had been drinking, and that she was up +to some nasty pranks. +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her while the snow scattered daisies over his beautiful yellow +beard. Then as she lowered her head and stepped back he detained her. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +And he walked on first. She followed him. They both crossed the silent +district, gliding noiselessly along the walls. Poor Madame Goujet had died of +rheumatism in the month of October. Goujet still resided in the little house in +the Rue Neuve, living gloomily alone. On this occasion he was belated because +he had sat up nursing a wounded comrade. When he had opened the door and +lighted a lamp, he turned towards Gervaise, who had remained humbly on the +threshold. Then, in a low voice, as if he were afraid his mother could still +hear him, he exclaimed, “Come in.” +</p> + +<p> +The first room, Madame Goujet’s, was piously preserved in the state she +had left it. On a chair near the window lay the tambour by the side of the +large arm-chair, which seemed to be waiting for the old lace-worker. The bed +was made, and she could have stretched herself beneath the sheets if she had +left the cemetery to come and spend the evening with her child. There was +something solemn, a perfume of honesty and goodness about the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in,” repeated the blacksmith in a louder tone. +</p> + +<p> +She went in, half frightened, like a disreputable woman gliding into a +respectable place. He was quite pale, and trembled at the thought of ushering a +woman like this into his dead mother’s home. They crossed the room on +tip-toe, as if they were ashamed to be heard. Then when he had pushed Gervaise +into his own room he closed the door. Here he was at home. It was the narrow +closet she was acquainted with; a schoolgirl’s room, with the little iron +bedstead hung with white curtains. On the walls the engravings cut out of +illustrated newspapers had gathered and spread, and they now reached to the +ceiling. The room looked so pure that Gervaise did not dare to advance, but +retreated as far as she could from the lamp. Then without a word, in a +transport as it were, he tried to seize hold of her and press her in his arms. +But she felt faint and murmured: “Oh! <i>Mon Dieu!</i> Oh, <i>mon +Dieu!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +The fire in the stove, having been covered with coke-dust, was still alight, +and the remains of a stew which Goujet had put to warm, thinking he should +return to dinner, was smoking in front of the cinders. Gervaise, who felt her +numbness leave her in the warmth of this room, would have gone down on all +fours to eat out of the saucepan. Her hunger was stronger than her will; her +stomach seemed rent in two; and she stooped down with a sigh. Goujet had +realized the truth. He placed the stew on the table, cut some bread, and poured +her out a glass of wine. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you! Thank you!” said she. “Oh, how kind you are! +Thank you!” +</p> + +<p> +She stammered; she could hardly articulate. When she caught hold of her fork +she began to tremble so acutely that she let it fall again. The hunger that +possessed her made her wag her head as if senile. She carried the food to her +mouth with her fingers. As she stuffed the first potato into her mouth, she +burst out sobbing. Big tears coursed down her cheeks and fell onto her bread. +She still ate, gluttonously devouring this bread thus moistened by her tears, +and breathing very hard all the while. Goujet compelled her to drink to prevent +her from stifling, and her glass chinked, as it were, against her teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you have some more bread?” he asked in an undertone. +</p> + +<p> +She cried, she said “no,” she said “yes,” she +didn’t know. Ah! how nice and yet how painful it is to eat when one is +starving. +</p> + +<p> +And standing in front of her, Goujet looked at her all the while; under the +bright light cast by the lamp-shade he could see her well. How aged and altered +she seemed! The heat was melting the snow on her hair and clothes, and she was +dripping. Her poor wagging head was quite grey; there were any number of grey +locks which the wind had disarranged. Her neck sank into her shoulders and she +had become so fat and ugly you might have cried on noticing the change. He +recollected their love, when she was quite rosy, working with her irons, and +showing the child-like crease which set such a charming necklace round her +throat. In those times he had watched her for hours, glad just to look at her. +Later on she had come to the forge, and there they had enjoyed themselves +whilst he beat the iron, and she stood by watching his hammer dance. How often +at night, with his head buried in his pillow, had he dreamed of holding her in +his arms. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise rose; she had finished. She remained for a moment with her head +lowered, and ill at ease. Then, thinking she detected a gleam in his eyes, she +raised her hand to her jacket and began to unfasten the first button. But +Goujet had fallen on his knees, and taking hold of her hands, he exclaimed +softly: +</p> + +<p> +“I love you, Madame Gervaise; oh! I love you still, and in spite of +everything, I swear it to you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t say that, Monsieur Goujet!” she cried, maddened to see +him like this at her feet. “No, don’t say that; you grieve me too +much.” +</p> + +<p> +And as he repeated that he could never love twice in his life, she became yet +more despairing. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, I am too ashamed. For the love of God get up. It is my place to +be on the ground.” +</p> + +<p> +He rose, he trembled all over and stammered: “Will you allow me to kiss +you?” +</p> + +<p> +Overcome with surprise and emotion she could not speak, but she assented with a +nod of the head. After all she was his; he could do what he chose with her. But +he merely kissed her. +</p> + +<p> +“That suffices between us, Madame Gervaise,” he muttered. “It +sums up all our friendship, does it not?” +</p> + +<p> +He had kissed her on the forehead, on a lock of her grey hair. He had not +kissed anyone since his mother’s death. His sweetheart Gervaise alone +remained to him in life. And then, when he had kissed her with so much respect, +he fell back across his bed with sobs rising in his throat. And Gervaise could +not remain there any longer. It was too sad and too abominable to meet again +under such circumstances when one loved. “I love you, Monsieur +Goujet,” she exclaimed. “I love you dearly, also. Oh! it +isn’t possible you still love me. Good-bye, good-bye; it would smother us +both; it would be more than we could stand.” +</p> + +<p> +And she darted through Madame Goujet’s room and found herself outside on +the pavement again. When she recovered her senses she had rung at the door in +the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or and Boche was pulling the string. The house was +quite dark, and in the black night the yawning, dilapidated porch looked like +an open mouth. To think that she had been ambitious of having a corner in this +barracks! Had her ears been stopped up then, that she had not heard the cursed +music of despair which sounded behind the walls? Since she had set foot in the +place she had begun to go down hill. Yes, it must bring bad luck to shut +oneself up in these big workmen’s houses; the cholera of misery was +contagious there. That night everyone seemed to have kicked the bucket. She +only heard the Boches snoring on the right-hand side, while Lantier and +Virginie on the left were purring like a couple of cats who were not asleep, +but have their eyes closed and feel warm. In the courtyard she fancied she was +in a perfect cemetery; the snow paved the ground with white; the high +frontages, livid grey in tint, rose up unlighted like ruined walls, and not a +sigh could be heard. It seemed as if a whole village, stiffened with cold and +hunger, were buried here. She had to step over a black gutter—water from +the dye-works—which smoked and streaked the whiteness of the snow with +its muddy course. It was the color of her thoughts. The beautiful light blue +and light pink waters had long since flowed away. +</p> + +<p> +Then, whilst ascending the six flights of stairs in the dark, she could not +prevent herself from laughing; an ugly laugh which hurt her. She recalled her +ideal of former days: to work quietly, always have bread to eat and a tidy +house to sleep in, to bring up her children, not to be beaten and to die in her +bed. No, really, it was comical how all that was becoming realized! She no +longer worked, she no longer ate, she slept on filth, her husband frequented +all sorts of wineshops, and her husband drubbed her at all hours of the day; +all that was left for her to do was to die on the pavement, and it would not +take long if on getting into her room, she could only pluck up courage to fling +herself out of the window. Was it not enough to make one think that she had +hoped to earn thirty thousand francs a year, and no end of respect? Ah! really, +in this life it is no use being modest; one only gets sat upon. Not even pap +and a nest, that is the common lot. +</p> + +<p> +What increased her ugly laugh was the recollection of her grand hope of +retiring into the country after twenty years passed in ironing. Well! she was +on her way to the country. She was going to have her green corner in the +Pere-Lachaise cemetery. +</p> + +<p> +When she entered the passage she was like a mad-woman. Her poor head was +whirling round. At heart her great grief was at having bid the blacksmith an +eternal farewell. All was ended between them; they would never see each other +more. Then, besides that, all her other thoughts of misfortune pressed upon +her, and almost caused her head to split. As she passed she poked her nose in +at the Bijards’ and beheld Lalie dead, with a look of contentment on her +face at having at last been laid out and slumbering forever. Ah, well! children +were luckier than grown-up people. And, as a glimmer of light passed under old +Bazouge’s door, she walked boldly in, seized with a mania for going off +on the same journey as the little one. +</p> + +<p> +That old joker, Bazouge, had come home that night in an extraordinary state of +gaiety. He had had such a booze that he was snoring on the ground in spite of +the temperature, and that no doubt did not prevent him from dreaming something +pleasant, for he seemed to be laughing from his stomach as he slept. The +candle, which he had not put out, lighted up his old garments, his black cloak, +which he had drawn over his knees as though it had been a blanket. +</p> + +<p> +On beholding him Gervaise uttered such a deep wailing that he awoke. +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mon Dieu!</i> shut the door! It’s so cold! Ah! it’s you! +What’s the matter? What do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +Then, Gervaise, stretching out her arms, no longer knowing what she stuttered, +began passionately to implore him: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! take me away! I’ve had enough; I want to go off. You +mustn’t bear me any grudge. I didn’t know. One never knows until +one’s ready. Oh, yes; one’s glad to go one day! Take me away! Take +me away and I shall thank you!” +</p> + +<p> +She fell on her knees, all shaken with a desire which caused her to turn +ghastly pale. Never before had she thus dragged herself at a man’s feet. +Old Bazouge’s ugly mug, with his mouth all on one side and his hide +begrimed with the dust of funerals, seemed to her as beautiful and resplendent +as a sun. The old fellow, who was scarcely awake thought, however, that it was +some sort of bad joke. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here,” murmured he, “no jokes!” +</p> + +<p> +“Take me away,” repeated Gervaise more ardently still. “You +remember, I knocked one evening against the partition; then I said that it +wasn’t true, because I was still a fool. But see! Give me your hands. +I’m no longer frightened. Take me away to by-by; you’ll see how +still I’ll be. Oh! sleep, that’s all I care for. Oh! I’ll +love you so much!” +</p> + +<p> +Bazouge, ever gallant, thought that he ought not to be hasty with a lady who +appeared to have taken such a fancy to him. She was falling to pieces, but all +the same, what remained was very fine, especially when she was excited. +</p> + +<p> +“What you say is very true,” said he in a convinced manner. +“I packed up three more to-day who would only have been too glad to have +given me something for myself, could they but have got their hands to their +pockets. But, little woman, it’s not so easily settled as all +that—” +</p> + +<p> +“Take me away, take me away,” continued Gervaise, “I want to +die.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! but there’s a little operation to be gone through +beforehand—you know, glug!” +</p> + +<p> +And he made a noise in his throat, as though swallowing his tongue. Then, +thinking it a good joke, he chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise slowly rose to her feet. So he too could do nothing for her. She went +to her room and threw herself on her straw, feeling stupid, and regretting she +had eaten. Ah! no indeed, misery did not kill quickly enough. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"></a> +CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p> +That night Coupeau went on a spree. Next day, Gervaise received ten francs from +her son Etienne, who was a mechanic on some railway. The youngster sent her a +few francs from time to time, knowing that they were not very well off at home. +She made some soup, and ate it all alone, for that scoundrel Coupeau did not +return on the morrow. On Monday he was still absent, and on Tuesday also. The +whole week went by. Ah, it would be good luck if some woman took him in. +</p> + +<p> +On Sunday Gervaise received a printed document. It was to inform her that her +husband was dying at the Sainte-Anne asylum. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise did not disturb herself. He knew the way; he could very well get home +from the asylum by himself. They had cured him there so often that they could +once more do him the sorry service of putting him on his pins again. Had she +not heard that very morning that for the week before Coupeau had been seen as +round as a ball, rolling about Belleville from one dram shop to another in the +company of My-Boots. Exactly so; and it was My-Boots, too, who stood treat. He +must have hooked his missus’s stocking with all the savings gained at +very hard work. It wasn’t clean money they had used, but money that could +infect them with any manner of vile diseases. Well, anyway, they hadn’t +thought to invite her for a drink. If you wanted to drink by yourself, you +could croak by yourself. +</p> + +<p> +However, on Monday, as Gervaise had a nice little meal planned for the evening, +the remains of some beans and a pint of wine, she pretended to herself that a +walk would give her an appetite. The letter from the asylum which she had left +lying on the bureau bothered her. The snow had melted, the day was mild and +grey and on the whole fine, with just a slight keenness in the air which was +invigorating. She started at noon, for her walk was a long one. She had to +cross Paris and her bad leg always slowed her. With that the streets were +crowded; but the people amused her; she reached her destination very +pleasantly. When she had given her name, she was told a most astounding story +to the effect that Coupeau had been fished out of the Seine close to the +Pont-Neuf. He had jumped over the parapet, under the impression that a bearded +man was barring his way. A fine jump, was it not? And as for finding out how +Coupeau got to be on the Pont-Neuf, that was a matter he could not even explain +himself. +</p> + +<p> +One of the keepers escorted Gervaise. She was ascending a staircase, when she +heard howlings which made her shiver to her very bones. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s playing a nice music, isn’t he?” observed the +keeper. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is?” asked she. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, your old man! He’s been yelling like that ever since the day +before yesterday; and he dances, you’ll just see.” +</p> + +<p> +<i>Mon Dieu!</i> what a sight! She stood as one transfixed. The cell was padded +from the floor to the ceiling. On the floor there were two straw mats, one +piled on top of the other; and in a corner were spread a mattress and a +bolster, nothing more. Inside there Coupeau was dancing and yelling, his blouse +in tatters and his limbs beating the air. He wore the mask of one about to die. +What a breakdown! He bumped up against the window, then retired backwards, +beating time with his arms and shaking his hands as though he were trying to +wrench them off and fling them in somebody’s face. One meets with +buffoons in low dancing places who imitate the delirium tremens, only they +imitate it badly. One must see this drunkard’s dance if one wishes to +know what it is like when gone through in earnest. The song also has its +merits, a continuous yell worthy of carnival-time, a mouth wide open uttering +the same hoarse trombone notes for hours together. Coupeau had the howl of a +beast with a crushed paw. Strike up, music! Gentlemen, choose your partners! +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mon Dieu!</i> what is the matter with him? What is the matter with +him?” repeated Gervaise, seized with fear. +</p> + +<p> +A house surgeon, a big fair fellow with a rosy countenance, and wearing a white +apron, was quietly sitting taking notes. The case was a curious one; the doctor +did not leave the patient. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay a while if you like,” said he to the laundress; “but +keep quiet. Try and speak to him, he will not recognise you.” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau indeed did not even appear to see his wife. She had only had a bad view +of him on entering, he was wriggling about so much. When she looked him full in +the face, she stood aghast. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> was it possible he had a +countenance like that, his eyes full of blood and his lips covered with scabs? +She would certainly never have known him. To begin with, he was making too many +grimaces, without saying why, his mouth suddenly out of all shape, his nose +curled up, his cheeks drawn in, a perfect animal’s muzzle. His skin was +so hot the air steamed around him; and his hide was as though varnished, +covered with a heavy sweat which trickled off him. In his mad dance, one could +see all the same that he was not at his ease, his head was heavy and his limbs +ached. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise drew near to the house surgeon, who was strumming a tune with the tips +of his fingers on the back of his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, sir, it’s serious then this time?” +</p> + +<p> +The house surgeon nodded his head without answering. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t he jabbering to himself? Eh! don’t you hear? +What’s it about? +</p> + +<p> +“About things he sees,” murmured the young man. “Keep quiet, +let me listen.” +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau was speaking in a jerky voice. A glimmer of amusement lit up his eyes. +He looked on the floor, to the right, to the left, and turned about as though +he had been strolling in the Bois de Vincennes, conversing with himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! that’s nice, that’s grand! There’re cottages, a +regular fair. And some jolly fine music! What a Balthazar’s feast! +They’re smashing the crockery in there. Awfully swell! Now it’s +being lit up; red balls in the air, and it jumps, and it flies! Oh! oh! what a +lot of lanterns in the trees! It’s confoundedly pleasant! There’s +water flowing everywhere, fountains, cascades, water which sings, oh! with the +voice of a chorister. The cascades are grand!” +</p> + +<p> +And he drew himself up, as though the better to hear the delicious song of the +water; he sucked in forcibly, fancying he was drinking the fresh spray blown +from the fountains. But, little by little, his face resumed an agonized +expression. Then he crouched down and flew quicker than ever around the walls +of the cell, uttering vague threats. +</p> + +<p> +“More traps, all that! I thought as much. Silence, you set of swindlers! +Yes, you’re making a fool of me. It’s for that that you’re +drinking and bawling inside there with your viragoes. I’ll demolish you, +you and your cottage! Damnation! Will you leave me in peace?” +</p> + +<p> +He clinched his fists; then he uttered a hoarse cry, stooping as he ran. And he +stuttered, his teeth chattering with fright. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s so that I may kill myself. No, I won’t throw myself in! +All that water means that I’ve no heart. No, I won’t throw myself +in!” +</p> + +<p> +The cascades, which fled at his approach, advanced when he retired. And all of +a sudden, he looked stupidly around him, mumbling, in a voice which was +scarcely audible: +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t possible, they set conjurers against me!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m off, sir. I’ve got to go. Good-night!” said +Gervaise to the house surgeon. “It upsets me too much; I’ll come +again.” +</p> + +<p> +She was quite white. Coupeau was continuing his breakdown from the window to +the mattress and from the mattress to the window, perspiring, toiling, always +beating the same rhythm. Then she hurried away. But though she scrambled down +the stairs, she still heard her husband’s confounded jig until she +reached the bottom. Ah! <i>Mon Dieu!</i> how pleasant it was out of doors, one +could breathe there! +</p> + +<p> +That evening everyone in the tenement was discussing Coupeau’s strange +malady. The Boches invited Gervaise to have a drink with them, even though they +now considered Clump-clump beneath them, in order to hear all the details. +Madame Lorilleux and Madame Poisson were there also. Boche told of a carpenter +he had known who had been a drinker of absinthe. The man shed his clothes, went +out in the street and danced the polka until he died. That rather struck the +ladies as comic, even though it was very sad. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise got up in the middle of the room and did an imitation of Coupeau. Yes, +that’s just how it was. Can anyone feature a man doing that for hours on +end? If they didn’t believe they could go see for themselves. +</p> + +<p> +On getting up the next morning, Gervaise promised herself she would not return +to the Sainte-Anne again. What use would it be? She did not want to go off her +head also. However, every ten minutes, she fell to musing and became +absent-minded. It would be curious though, if he were still throwing his legs +about. When twelve o’clock struck, she could no longer resist; she +started off and did not notice how long the walk was, her brain was so full of +her desire to go and the dread of what awaited her. +</p> + +<p> +Oh! there was no need for her to ask for news. She heard Coupeau’s song +the moment she reached the foot of the staircase. Just the same tune, just the +same dance. She might have thought herself going up again after having only +been down for a minute. The attendant of the day before, who was carrying some +jugs of tisane along the corridor, winked his eye as he met her, by way of +being amiable. +</p> + +<p> +“Still the same, then?” said she. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! still the same!” he replied without stopping. +</p> + +<p> +She entered the room, but she remained near the door, because there were some +people with Coupeau. The fair, rosy house surgeon was standing up, having given +his chair to a bald old gentleman who was decorated and had a pointed face like +a weasel. He was no doubt the head doctor, for his glance was as sharp and +piercing as a gimlet. All the dealers in sudden death have a glance like that. +</p> + +<p> +No, really, it was not a pretty sight; and Gervaise, all in a tremble, asked +herself why she had returned. To think that the evening before they accused her +at the Boches’ of exaggerating the picture! Now she saw better how +Coupeau set about it, his eyes wide open looking into space, and she would +never forget it. She overheard a few words between the house surgeon and the +head doctor. The former was giving some details of the night: her husband had +talked and thrown himself about, that was what it amounted to. Then the +bald-headed old gentleman, who was not very polite by the way, at length +appeared to become aware of her presence; and when the house surgeon had +informed him that she was the patient’s wife, he began to question her in +the harsh manner of a commissary of the police. +</p> + +<p> +“Did this man’s father drink?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir; just a little like everyone. He killed himself by falling from +a roof one day when he was tipsy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did his mother drink?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well! sir, like everyone else, you know; a drop here, a drop there. Oh! +the family is very respectable! There was a brother who died very young in +convulsions.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor looked at her with his piercing eye. He resumed in his rough voice: +</p> + +<p> +“And you, you drink too, don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise stammered, protested, and placed her hand upon her heart, as though to +take her solemn oath. +</p> + +<p> +“You drink! Take care; see where drink leads to. One day or other you +will die thus.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she remained close to the wall. The doctor had turned his back to her. He +squatted down, without troubling himself as to whether his overcoat trailed in +the dust of the matting; for a long while he studied Coupeau’s trembling, +waiting for its reappearance, following it with his glance. That day the legs +were going in their turn, the trembling had descended from the hands to the +feet; a regular puppet with his strings being pulled, throwing his limbs about, +whilst the trunk of his body remained as stiff as a piece of wood. The disease +progressed little by little. It was like a musical box beneath the skin; it +started off every three or four seconds and rolled along for an instant; then +it stopped and then it started off again, just the same as the little shiver +which shakes stray dogs in winter, when cold and standing in some doorway for +protection. Already the middle of the body and the shoulders quivered like +water on the point of boiling. It was a funny demolition all the same, going +off wriggling like a girl being tickled. +</p> + +<p> +Coupeau, meanwhile, was complaining in a hollow voice. He seemed to suffer a +great deal more than the day before. His broken murmurs disclosed all sorts of +ailments. Thousands of pins were pricking him. He felt something heavy all +about his body; some cold, wet animal was crawling over his thighs and digging +its fangs into his flesh. Then there were other animals sticking to his +shoulders, tearing his back with their claws. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m thirsty, oh! I’m thirsty!” groaned he continually. +</p> + +<p> +The house surgeon handed him a little lemonade from a small shelf; Coupeau +seized the mug in both hands and greedily took a mouthful, spilling half the +liquid over himself; but he spat it out at once with furious disgust, +exclaiming: +</p> + +<p> +“Damnation! It’s brandy!” +</p> + +<p> +Then, on a sign from the doctor, the house surgeon tried to make him drink some +water without leaving go of the bottle. This time he swallowed the mouthful, +yelling as though he had swallowed fire. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s brandy; damnation! It’s brandy!” +</p> + +<p> +Since the night before, everything he had had to drink was brandy. It redoubled +his thirst and he could no longer drink, because everything burnt him. They had +brought him some broth, but they were evidently trying to poison him, for the +broth smelt of vitriol. The bread was sour and moldy. There was nothing but +poison around him. The cell stank of sulphur. He even accused persons of +rubbing matches under his nose to infect him. +</p> + +<p> +All on a sudden he exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! the rats, there’re the rats now!” +</p> + +<p> +There were black balls that were changing into rats. These filthy animals got +fatter and fatter, then they jumped onto the mattress and disappeared. There +was also a monkey which came out of the wall, and went back into the wall, and +which approached so near him each time, that he drew back through fear of +having his nose bitten off. Suddenly there was another change, the walls were +probably cutting capers, for he yelled out, choking with terror and rage: +</p> + +<p> +“That’s it, gee up! Shake me, I don’t care! Gee up! Tumble +down! Yes, ring the bells, you black crows! Play the organ to prevent my +calling the police. They’ve put a bomb behind the wall, the lousy +scoundrels! I can hear it, it snorts, they’re going to blow us up! Fire! +Damnation, fire! There’s a cry of fire! There it blazes. Oh, it’s +getting lighter, lighter! All the sky’s burning, red fires, green fires, +yellow fires. Hi! Help! Fire!” +</p> + +<p> +His cries became lost in a rattle. He now only mumbled disconnected words, +foaming at the mouth, his chin wet with saliva. The doctor rubbed his nose with +his finger, a movement no doubt habitual with him in the presence of serious +cases. He turned to the house surgeon, and asked him in a low voice: +</p> + +<p> +“And the temperature, still the hundred degrees, is it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +The doctor pursed his lips. He continued there another two minutes, his eyes +fixed on Coupeau. Then he shrugged his shoulders, adding: +</p> + +<p> +“The same treatment, broth, milk, lemonade, and the potion of extract of +quinine. Do not leave him, and call me if necessary.” +</p> + +<p> +He went out and Gervaise followed him, to ask him if there was any hope. But he +walked so stiffly along the corridor, that she did not dare approach him. She +stood rooted there a minute, hesitating whether to return and look at her +husband. The time she had already passed had been far from pleasant. As she +again heard him calling out that the lemonade smelt of brandy, she hurried +away, having had enough of the performance. In the streets, the galloping of +the horses and the noise of the vehicles made her fancy that all the inmates of +Saint-Anne were at her heels. And that the doctor had threatened her! Really, +she already thought she had the complaint. +</p> + +<p> +In the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or the Boches and the others were naturally +awaiting her. The moment she appeared they called her into the +concierge’s room. Well! was old Coupeau still in the land of the living? +<i>Mon Dieu!</i> yes, he still lived. Boche seemed amazed and confounded; he +had bet a bottle that old Coupeau would not last till the evening. What! He +still lived! And they all exhibited their astonishment, and slapped their +thighs. There was a fellow who lasted! Madame Lorilleux reckoned up the hours; +thirty-six hours and twenty-four hours, sixty hours. <i>Sacre Dieu!</i> already +sixty hours that he had been doing the jig and screaming! Such a feat of +strength had never been seen before. But Boche, who was upset that he had lost +the bet, questioned Gervaise with an air of doubt, asking her if she was quite +sure he had not filed off behind her back. Oh! no, he had no desire to, he +jumped about too much. Then Boche, still doubting, begged her to show them +again a little how he was acting, just so they could see. Yes, yes, a little +more! The request was general! The company told her she would be very kind if +she would oblige, for just then two neighbors happened to be there who had not +been present the day before, and who had come down purposely to see the +performance. The concierge called to everybody to make room, they cleared the +centre of the apartment, pushing one another with their elbows, and quivering +with curiosity. Gervaise, however, hung down her head. Really, she was afraid +it might upset her. Desirous though of showing that she did not refuse for the +sake of being pressed, she tried two or three little leaps; but she became +quite queer, and stopped; on her word of honor, she was not equal to it! There +was a murmur of disappointment; it was a pity, she imitated it perfectly. +However, she could not do it, it was no use insisting! And when Virginie left +to return to her shop, they forgot all about old Coupeau and began to gossip +about the Poissons and their home, a real mess now. The day before, the +bailiffs had been; the policeman was about to lose his place; as for Lantier, +he was now making up to the daughter of the restaurant keeper next door, a fine +woman, who talked of setting up as a tripe-seller. Ah! it was amusing, everyone +already beheld a tripe-seller occupying the shop; after the sweets should come +something substantial. And that blind Poisson! How could a man whose profession +required him to be so smart fail to see what was going on in his own home? They +stopped talking suddenly when they noticed that Gervaise was off in a corner by +herself imitating Coupeau. Her hands and feet were jerking. Yes, they +couldn’t ask for a better performance! Then Gervaise started as if waking +from a dream and hurried away calling out good-night to everyone. +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow, the Boches saw her start off at twelve, the same as on the two +previous days. They wished her a pleasant afternoon. That day the corridor at +Sainte-Anne positively shook with Coupeau’s yells and kicks. She had not +left the stairs when she heard him yelling: +</p> + +<p> +“What a lot of bugs!—Come this way again that I may squash +you!—Ah! they want to kill me! ah! the bugs!—I’m a bigger +swell than the lot of you! Clear out, damnation! Clear out.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment she stood panting before the door. Was he then fighting against an +army? When she entered, the performance had increased and was embellished even +more than on previous occasions. Coupeau was a raving madman, the same as one +sees at the Charenton mad-house! He was throwing himself about in the center of +the cell, slamming his fists everywhere, on himself, on the walls, on the +floor, and stumbling about punching empty space. He wanted to open the window, +and he hid himself, defended himself, called, answered, produced all this +uproar without the least assistance, in the exasperated way of a man beset by a +mob of people. Then Gervaise understood that he fancied he was on a roof, +laying down sheets of zinc. He imitated the bellows with his mouth, he moved +the iron about in the fire and knelt down so as to pass his thumb along the +edges of the mat, thinking that he was soldering it. Yes, his handicraft +returned to him at the moment of croaking; and if he yelled so loud, if he +fought on his roof, it was because ugly scoundrels were preventing him doing +his work properly. On all the neighboring roofs were villains mocking and +tormenting him. Besides that, the jokers were letting troops of rats loose +about his legs. Ah! the filthy beasts, he saw them always! Though he kept +crushing them, bringing his foot down with all his strength, fresh hordes of +them continued passing, until they quite covered the roof. And there were +spiders there too! He roughly pressed his trousers against his thigh to squash +some big spiders which had crept up his leg. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> he would never +finish his day’s work, they wanted to destroy him, his employer would +send him to prison. Then, whilst making haste, he suddenly imagined he had a +steam-engine in his stomach; with his mouth wide open, he puffed out the smoke, +a dense smoke which filled the cell and found an outlet by the window; and, +bending forward, still puffing, he looked outside of the cloud of smoke as it +unrolled and ascended to the sky, where it hid the sun. +</p> + +<p> +“Look!” cried he, “there’s the band of the Chaussee +Clignancourt, disguised as bears with drums, putting on a show.” +</p> + +<p> +He remained crouching before the window, as though he had been watching a +procession in a street, from some rooftop. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s the cavalcade, lions and panthers making +grimaces—there’s brats dressed up as dogs and +cats—there’s tall Clemence, with her wig full of feathers. Ah! +<i>Mon Dieu!</i> she’s turning head over heels; she’s showed +everything—you’d better run, Duckie. Hey, the cops, leave her +alone!—just you leave her alone—don’t shoot! Don’t +shoot—” +</p> + +<p> +His voice rose, hoarse and terrified and he stooped down quickly, saying that +the police and the military were below, men who were aiming at him with rifles. +In the wall he saw the barrel of a pistol emerging, pointed at his breast. They +had dragged the girl away. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t shoot! <i>Mon Dieu!</i> Don’t shoot!” +</p> + +<p> +Then, the buildings were tumbling down, he imitated the cracking of a whole +neighborhood collapsing; and all disappeared, all flew off. But he had no time +to take breath, other pictures passed with extraordinary rapidity. A furious +desire to speak filled his mouth full of words which he uttered without any +connection, and with a gurgling sound in his throat. He continued to raise his +voice, louder and louder. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallow, it’s you? Good-day! No jokes! Don’t make me nuzzle +your hair.” +</p> + +<p> +And he passed his hand before his face, he blew to send the hairs away. The +house surgeon questioned him. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is it you see?” +</p> + +<p> +“My wife, of course!” +</p> + +<p> +He was looking at the wall, with his back to Gervaise. The latter had a rare +fright, and she examined the wall, to see if she also could catch sight of +herself there. He continued talking. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, you know, none of your wheedling—I won’t be tied down! +You are pretty, you have got a fine dress. Where did you get the money for it, +you cow? You’ve been at a party, camel! Wait a bit and I’ll do for +you! Ah! you’re hiding your boy friend behind your skirts. Who is it? +Stoop down that I may see. Damnation, it’s him again!” +</p> + +<p> +With a terrible leap, he went head first against the wall; but the padding +softened the blow. One only heard his body rebounding onto the matting, where +the shock had sent him. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is it you see?” repeated the house surgeon. +</p> + +<p> +“The hatter! The hatter!” yelled Coupeau. +</p> + +<p> +And the house surgeon questioning Gervaise, the latter stuttered without being +able to answer, for this scene stirred up within her all the worries of her +life. The zinc-worker thrust out his fists. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll settle this between us, my lad. It’s full time I did +for you! Ah, you coolly come, with that virago on your arm, to make a fool of +me before everyone. Well! I’m going to throttle you—yes, yes, I! +And without putting any gloves on either! I’ll stop your swaggering. Take +that! And that! And that!” +</p> + +<p> +He hit about in the air viciously. Then a wild rage took possession of him. +Having bumped against the wall in walking backwards, he thought he was being +attacked from behind. He turned round, and fiercely hammered away at the +padding. He sprang about, jumped from one corner to another, knocked his +stomach, his back, his shoulder, rolled over, and picked himself up again. His +bones seemed softened, his flesh had a sound like damp oakum. He accompanied +this pretty game with atrocious threats, and wild and guttural cries. However +the battle must have been going badly for him, for his breathing became +quicker, his eyes were starting out of his head, and he seemed little by little +to be seized with the cowardice of a child. +</p> + +<p> +“Murder! Murder! Be off with you both. Oh! you brutes, they’re +laughing. There she is on her back, the virago! She must give in, it’s +settled. Ah! the brigand, he’s murdering her! He’s cutting off her +leg with his knife. The other leg’s on the ground, the stomach’s in +two, it’s full of blood. Oh! <i>Mon Dieu!</i> Oh! <i>Mon Dieu!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +And, covered with perspiration, his hair standing on end, looking a frightful +object, he retired backwards, violently waving his arms, as though to send the +abominable sight from him. He uttered two heart-rending wails, and fell flat on +his back on the mattress, against which his heels had caught. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s dead, sir, he’s dead!” said Gervaise, clasping +her hands. +</p> + +<p> +The house surgeon had drawn near, and was pulling Coupeau into the middle of +the mattress. No, he was not dead. They had taken his shoes off. His bare feet +hung off the end of the mattress and they were dancing all by themselves, one +beside the other, in time, a little hurried and regular dance. +</p> + +<p> +Just then the head doctor entered. He had brought two of his +colleagues—one thin, the other fat, and both decorated like himself. All +three stooped down without saying a word, and examined the man all over; then +they rapidly conversed together in a low voice. They had uncovered Coupeau from +his thighs to his shoulders, and by standing on tiptoe Gervaise could see the +naked trunk spread out. Well! it was complete. The trembling had descended from +the arms and ascended from the legs, and now the trunk itself was getting +lively! +</p> + +<p> +“He’s sleeping,” murmured the head doctor. +</p> + +<p> +And he called the two others’ attention to the man’s countenance. +Coupeau, his eyes closed, had little nervous twinges which drew up all his +face. He was more hideous still, thus flattened out, with his jaw projecting, +and his visage deformed like a corpse’s that had suffered from nightmare; +but the doctors, having caught sight of his feet, went and poked their noses +over them, with an air of profound interest. The feet were still dancing. +Though Coupeau slept the feet danced. Oh! their owner might snore, that did not +concern them, they continued their little occupation without either hurrying or +slackening. Regular mechanical feet, feet which took their pleasure wherever +they found it. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise having seen the doctors place their hands on her old man, wished to +feel him also. She approached gently and laid a hand on his shoulder, and she +kept it there a minute. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> whatever was taking place inside? It +danced down into the very depths of the flesh, the bones themselves must have +been jumping. Quiverings, undulations, coming from afar, flowed like a river +beneath the skin. When she pressed a little she felt she distinguished the +suffering cries of the marrow. What a fearful thing, something was boring away +like a mole! It must be the rotgut from l’Assommoir that was hacking away +inside him. Well! his entire body had been soaked in it. +</p> + +<p> +The doctors had gone away. At the end of an hour Gervaise, who had remained +with the house surgeon, repeated in a low voice: +</p> + +<p> +“He’s dead, sir; he’s dead!” +</p> + +<p> +But the house surgeon, who was watching the feet, shook his head. The bare +feet, projecting beyond the mattress, still danced on. They were not +particularly clean and the nails were long. Several more hours passed. All on a +sudden they stiffened and became motionless. Then the house surgeon turned +towards Gervaise, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s over now.” +</p> + +<p> +Death alone had been able to stop those feet. +</p> + +<p> +When Gervaise got back to the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or she found at the +Boches’ a number of women who were cackling in excited tones. She thought +they were awaiting her to have the latest news, the same as the other days. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s gone,” said she, quietly, as she pushed open the door, +looking tired out and dull. +</p> + +<p> +But no one listened to her. The whole building was topsy-turvy. Oh! a most +extraordinary story. Poisson had caught his wife with Lantier. Exact details +were not known, because everyone had a different version. However, he had +appeared just when they were not expecting him. Some further information was +given, which the ladies repeated to one another as they pursed their lips. A +sight like that had naturally brought Poisson out of his shell. He was a +regular tiger. This man, who talked but little and who always seemed to walk +with a stick up his back, had begun to roar and jump about. Then nothing more +had been heard. Lantier had evidently explained things to the husband. Anyhow, +it could not last much longer, and Boche announced that the girl of the +restaurant was for certain going to take the shop for selling tripe. That rogue +of a hatter adored tripe. +</p> + +<p> +On seeing Madame Lorilleux and Madame Lerat arrive, Gervaise repeated, faintly: +</p> + +<p> +“He’s gone. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> Four days’ dancing and +yelling—” +</p> + +<p> +Then the two sisters could not do otherwise than pull out their handkerchiefs. +Their brother had had many faults, but after all he was their brother. Boche +shrugged his shoulders and said, loud enough to be heard by everyone: +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! It’s a drunkard the less.” +</p> + +<p> +From that day, as Gervaise often got a bit befuddled, one of the amusements of +the house was to see her imitate Coupeau. It was no longer necessary to press +her; she gave the performance gratis, her hands and feet trembling as she +uttered little involuntary shrieks. She must have caught this habit at +Sainte-Anne from watching her husband too long. +</p> + +<p> +Gervaise lasted in this state several months. She fell lower and lower still, +submitting to the grossest outrages and dying of starvation a little every day. +As soon as she had four sous she drank and pounded on the walls. She was +employed on all the dirty errands of the neighborhood. Once they even bet her +she wouldn’t eat filth, but she did it in order to earn ten sous. +Monsieur Marescot had decided to turn her out of her room on the sixth floor. +But, as Pere Bru had just been found dead in his cubbyhole under the staircase, +the landlord had allowed her to turn into it. Now she roosted there in the +place of Pere Bru. It was inside there, on some straw, that her teeth +chattered, whilst her stomach was empty and her bones were frozen. The earth +would not have her apparently. She was becoming idiotic. She did not even think +of making an end of herself by jumping out of the sixth floor window on to the +pavement of the courtyard below. Death had to take her little by little, bit by +bit, dragging her thus to the end through the accursed existence she had made +for herself. It was never even exactly known what she did die of. There was +some talk of a cold, but the truth was she died of privation and of the filth +and hardship of her ruined life. Overeating and dissoluteness killed her, +according to the Lorilleuxs. One morning, as there was a bad smell in the +passage, it was remembered that she had not been seen for two days, and she was +discovered already green in her hole. +</p> + +<p> +It happened to be old Bazouge who came with the pauper’s coffin under his +arm to pack her up. He was again precious drunk that day, but a jolly fellow +all the same, and as lively as a cricket. When he recognized the customer he +had to deal with he uttered several philosophical reflections, whilst +performing his little business. +</p> + +<p> +“Everyone has to go. There’s no occasion for jostling, +there’s room for everyone. And it’s stupid being in a hurry that +just slows you up. All I want to do is to please everybody. Some will, others +won’t. What’s the result? Here’s one who wouldn’t, then +she would. So she was made to wait. Anyhow, it’s all right now, and +faith! She’s earned it! Merrily, just take it easy.” +</p> + +<p> +And when he took hold of Gervaise in his big, dirty hands, he was seized with +emotion, and he gently raised this woman who had had so great a longing for his +attentions. Then, as he laid her out with paternal care at the bottom of the +coffin, he stuttered between two hiccoughs: +</p> + +<p> +“You know—now listen—it’s me, Bibi-the-Gay, called the +ladies’ consoler. There, you’re happy now. Go by-by, my +beauty!” +</p> + +<p> +THE END +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK L’ASSOMMOIR ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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