Gervaise did not know what to do with her or where to send her. At
this moment Lantier appeared at the door. He had dressed himself,
impelled by a little shame at his own conduct. Meanwhile Gervaise, who had disappeared, returned, pushing Etienne
before her. The boy was half asleep but smiled as he rubbed his eyes.
When he saw Lantier he stared and looked uneasily from him to Coupeau. Lantier snatched her hand.

"Gervaise," he said, "listen to me."

But she understood him and drew hastily back. She spoke of Lantier. She had been out to see if he were anywhere
in the vicinity. Gervaise became very grave.

"Is he tipsy?" she asked. Gervaise went to Lantier and waked him.

"She is dead," she said.

"Well, what of it?" he muttered, half asleep. "Why don't you go to
sleep?" Everyone accused Gervaise now of having perverted poor Lantier. "Men
will be men," they said; "surely you can't expect them to turn a cold Lantier was directly in front of the door. Gervaise met his eyes and
felt the very marrow of her bones chilled; she could not move hand
or foot. It was said in the street that Lantier had deserted Gervaise,
that she gave him no peace running after him, but this was not true, Lantier all this time was fretting and scolding at the Coupeaus,
asking Gervaise what on earth she intended to do, begging her to "Ah!" said Gervaise in a low, dull voice.

Lantier, who had finished one jar, now began another. Gervaise was very unhappy. She was conscious of a returning
inclination for Lantier, and she was afraid of herself and of him. They were speaking of Lantier. Gervaise had never seen him again;
she supposed him to be living with Virginie's sister, with a friend
who was about to start a manufactory for hats. Gervaise felt faint and ill; all hope was gone. It seemed to her that
all was over and that Lantier would come no more. She looked from the When Gervaise awoke about five o'clock, stiff and sore, she burst into
wild sobs, for Lantier had not come in. For the first time he had before and that she was absolutely certain that Gervaise spent the
night in Lantier's room. "It is all the more disgusting," she added, Then Lantier withdrew from the discussion entirely, watching Gervaise
and Virginie out of the corners of his eyes. Gervaise became accustomed to seeing the dirty linen lying about and
to seeing Lantier coming in and going out. He still talked with an In spite of her debts, in spite of the shifts to which her increasing
poverty condemned her, Gervaise would have considered herself quite
well off, but for the exacting selfishness of Lantier and Coupeau. "Of course," murmured Gervaise, hardly knowing what she said, "of
course."

"I regard her as a sister," said Lantier, "only as a sister." And then Lantier and Virginie fell into a conversation, while Gervaise
crawled along the floor in the dirt at their feet.
"She?" Lantier exclaimed. "Who is she? Ah yes, I remember. Nana! No,
she said nothing more." Nana was not yet thoroughly perverted, but the curiosity which had
been her distinguishing characteristic as a child had not deserted
her, and she scarcely took her eyes from a girl by the name of Lisa,
about whom strange stories were told. She read the young man's heart; she knew that his suspicions made
him miserable. And in revenge for something that had displeased
her she told him the truth with many sighs and tears, as if her But one night, just as they were going to bed, they heard a rap on the
door. It was Nana, who came to ask as coolly as possible if she could The day that Nana--which was the pet name given to the little
girl--was three years old Coupeau, on coming in, found his wife in "I am glad of it," she answered, "but what an awful place this is to
get at!"

And she described her journey, as she called it, and then asked why
no one seemed to know Etienne there. and strong. She was, on the contrary, very weak and too easily
influenced, as she had discovered to her cost. Her dream had always
been to live in a respectable way among respectable people, because Nana and Pauline were deep ones. They did nothing without
premeditation. If they ran it was to show their slender ankles, and In one second Coupeau was in the center of the crowd. Yes, it was
Nana, and in what a costume! She wore a ragged silk dress, stained She had begun to think he saw Nana very often. She did not speak, but
Mme Lerat, who had just come in, said with a significant look:

"And where did you see her?" One day there was a terrible scene. Nana had invented a beautiful
game. She had stolen a wooden shoe belonging to Mme Boche; she bored But no one heard her. They had their own tale to tell then. How
Poisson had nearly murdered Lantier. Poisson was a tiger, and he ought He watched her incessantly and fixed his bold eyes upon her. He leaned
over her so closely that she felt his breath on her cheek. But one
evening, being alone with her, he caught her in both arms. At that "We know nothing about her," she said, "not even where he picked her
up. My husband has already lent them ten francs, and whoever heard of "And such a pretty little woman as you are too. But now I may as
well tell you the whole, I suppose? Well then, you remember when Nana took up her violets, and they all began to watch this man. He was
well dressed, about fifty, pale and grave. For a full hour he watched
the windows. So then he had come for her! Was not this pretty behavior for a girl
of her age? And Mme Lerat asked question after question, but Nana knew
nothing of him, she declared, though he had followed her for five
days. "You will see that I am telling you the truth," she replied. "I did
not tell you as long as I could help it. Be kind to me now, Papa, and
say good-by as if you loved me." "Mother and daughter," he cried, "a nice pair they make. I understand
very well what all this row is for: it is merely to show yourself in a "Her husband, she says! Her husband! The lady's husband! As if a
looking thing like that had a husband! Is it my fault if he has
Coupeau was looking down on the floor intently. He raised his head
and said with an idiotic laugh: The keeper lifted Coupeau. No, he was not dead; his bare feet quivered
with a regular motion. The surgeon in chief came in, bringing two For a week Coupeau's life hung on a thread. His family and his friends
expected to see him die from one hour to another. The physician, an Coupeau behaved very oddly. This blind and complacent husband, who
had closed his eyes to all that was going on at home, was filled with At this moment Coupeau entered. Coupeau, with his bag of tools on his shoulder, shuffled along; his
footsteps had long since lost their ring. At the end of two months Coupeau was on his feet again and could
move--with difficulty, of course--as far as the window, where he sat Coupeau, in fact, did not seem to notice his wife, who had not yet
seen his face. She went nearer. Was that really he? She never would Coupeau reeled in, breaking a square of glass with his shoulder as
he missed the doorway. He was not tipsy but drunk, with his teeth set crowded. They could not find a table, and they stood waiting until
they could establish themselves. Coupeau was directly in the mouth of
the passage, and a young man in a frock coat was thrown against him. When she reached the hospital she heard a strange story. It seems that
Coupeau--how, no one could say--had escaped from the hospital and had About seven o'clock Coupeau woke. When he heard what had happened he
declared they were jesting. But when he saw the body he fell on his "My very lameness--" she continued.

"Your lameness?" interrupted Coupeau gallantly. "Why, it is almost
nothing. No one would ever notice it!" As to Coupeau, if he worked he brought no money home, and his wife had
ceased to count upon it. Sometimes he declared he had lost it through But when she went in, to her astonishment she found Coupeau sitting
up. He welcomed her gaily.

"You are better!" she exclaimed. Coupeau said he could do it. After all, it was a simple thing
enough--he should just tear it to pieces.

There was a cry of dismay. Four men bore Coupeau to a druggist's at the corner, where he lay for
an hour while a litter was sent for from the Hospital Lariboisiere. By this time Mes-Bottes was what is properly called howling drunk, and
as he staggered away from the counter he struck the bag of tools which
Coupeau had over his shoulder. The last summer of his life was especially trying to Coupeau. His
voice was entirely changed; he was deaf in one ear, and some days he his devotions, passed out into the shop and said to Coupeau:
Meanwhile Gervaise, who had disappeared, returned, pushing Etienne
before her. The boy was half asleep but smiled as he rubbed his eyes.
When he saw Lantier he stared and looked uneasily from him to Coupeau. Gervaise was very unhappy. She was conscious of a returning
inclination for Lantier, and she was afraid of herself and of him. Gervaise did not know what to do with her or where to send her. At
this moment Lantier appeared at the door. He had dressed himself,
impelled by a little shame at his own conduct. Lantier walked about a little and then, when he felt all right, went
home and told Gervaise that her husband was with his friends. Coupeau Gervaise entered with the air of a woman who is startled at finding
herself in a respectable place. He was pale and trembling. They Then Gervaise began to realize that the past was dead. Lantier had
brought back to her the memory of Plassans and the Hotel Boncoeur. When Gervaise went back to her room she found Coupeau sitting on the
side of the bed, weeping and moaning. She took a chair near by and
looked at him without speaking. "Etienne! Etienne!" repeated the man, swaying from side to side. The
wind brought from him to her an intolerable smell of brandy, which
caused Gervaise to draw back and say timidly: she would do or say if Lantier should suddenly make his appearance,
for men were so strange; no one could ever tell what they would do.
Lantier was quite capable of returning to his old love. Then Gervaise In addition to her own sorrows and privations, Gervaise, whose
heart was not yet altogether hard, was condemned to hear now of the Gervaise was in no way disturbed. Coupeau knew the way back well
enough; he would return in due season. She soon heard that he and Gervaise went to Lantier and waked him.

"She is dead," she said.

"Well, what of it?" he muttered, half asleep. "Why don't you go to
sleep?" When she saw Coupeau out of danger Gervaise allowed his family to
approach him as they saw fit. His convalescence would be a matter of
months. This again was a ground of indignation for Mme Lorilleux. When Gervaise awoke about five o'clock, stiff and sore, she burst into
wild sobs, for Lantier had not come in. For the first time he had Gervaise. Gervaise looked from one to the other. She was literally dazed. When
her husband first appeared with her former lover she had clasped her These words frightened Gervaise nearly out of her wits. One Saturday
evening, however, she consented. Coupeau came for her at half-past Gervaise felt faint and ill; all hope was gone. It seemed to her that
all was over and that Lantier would come no more. She looked from the It was now November. Lantier occasionally brought a bunch of violets
to Gervaise. By degrees his visits became more frequent. He seemed Lorilleuxs viciously declared that Gervaise would be glad enough to
resume her old relations with Lantier but that he would have nothing
to do with her, for she had grown old and ugly. The Boche people
Coupeau was looking down on the floor intently. He raised his head
and said with an idiotic laugh: As to Coupeau, if he worked he brought no money home, and his wife had
ceased to count upon it. Sometimes he declared he had lost it through At the end of two months Coupeau was on his feet again and could
move--with difficulty, of course--as far as the window, where he sat Coupeau, with his bag of tools on his shoulder, shuffled along; his
footsteps had long since lost their ring. Coupeau behaved very oddly. This blind and complacent husband, who
had closed his eyes to all that was going on at home, was filled with sous, and in the evening came to sit with Coupeau. He did not say
much, but his companionship cheered and comforted the invalid. He
was tender and compassionate and was thrilled by the sweetness of his devotions, passed out into the shop and said to Coupeau: The keeper lifted Coupeau. No, he was not dead; his bare feet quivered
with a regular motion. The surgeon in chief came in, bringing two For two months more Coupeau walked with a crutch and after a while
was able to get into the street and then to the outer boulevard, where For a week Coupeau's life hung on a thread. His family and his friends
expected to see him die from one hour to another. The physician, an Amid all this ruin Coupeau thrived surprisingly. Bad liquor seemed
to affect him agreeably. His appetite was good in spite of the amount "My very lameness--" she continued.

"Your lameness?" interrupted Coupeau gallantly. "Why, it is almost
nothing. No one would ever notice it!" Coupeau said he could do it. After all, it was a simple thing
enough--he should just tear it to pieces.

There was a cry of dismay. and since Lantier had become a member of his household Coupeau had
never lifted a tool. He knew every drinking shop for miles around and
would sit and guzzle deep into the night, not always pleased to find Coupeau, in fact, did not seem to notice his wife, who had not yet
seen his face. She went nearer. Was that really he? She never would of the place where he was employed and get his wages from him before
he had spent them all, but this did no good, as Coupeau was warned
by his friends and escaped by a rear door. Coupeau drank all the more after this statement and was rarely or ever
sober. There began to be a strange bluish tone in his complexion. His Lantier kept his word and was seen from that time very often in the
shop. He came only when Coupeau was home and asked for him before he The day after all this Coupeau had a frightful headache and did not
rise until late, too late to go to his work. About noon he began to But Coupeau knew that Lantier was there, for he said:

"There's a fellow I know, and you know him too!"
Coupeau drank all the more after this statement and was rarely or ever
sober. There began to be a strange bluish tone in his complexion. His and since Lantier had become a member of his household Coupeau had
never lifted a tool. He knew every drinking shop for miles around and
would sit and guzzle deep into the night, not always pleased to find Amid all this ruin Coupeau thrived surprisingly. Bad liquor seemed
to affect him agreeably. His appetite was good in spite of the amount One Monday evening Coupeau came in as tipsy as usual and threw
himself on the bed, all dressed. Gervaise intended to remain with By degrees her unreasonable fears of Lantier were conquered. Coupeau
was behaving very badly at this time, and one evening as she passed the household went on much as usual to all appearance. In reality,
whenever Coupeau came in tipsy, she left and went to Lantier's room About the last of June Coupeau became absolutely morose, and Gervaise
was so much disturbed by certain glances he gave her that she fairly One Saturday Nana, coming in, found her mother and father in a
deplorable condition--Coupeau lying across the bed and Gervaise She leaned against the wall, utterly overcome. The physician turned
away. He knelt on the mattress and carefully watched Coupeau; he Coupeau called for more wine, and Clemence helped herself to more
strawberries. The singing ceased, and the conversation turned upon
a woman who had hanged herself the day before in the next street. That evening everyone in the huge house in which Coupeau had lived
talked of his strange disease. The concierge, crazy to hear the When Gervaise went back to her room she found Coupeau sitting on the
side of the bed, weeping and moaning. She took a chair near by and
looked at him without speaking. The two looked at each other. Merciful heavens! It was Father Bru
begging and Mme Coupeau doing worse. They stood looking at each By this time the wine was exhausted, and they called for more. About
five all except Lantier were in a state of beastly intoxication, and Coupeau when he was courting her. That day she had left the brandy and
took only the fruit, and now she was sitting there drinking liqueur. Amid this sudden and fierce indignation Gervaise lived--indifferent,
dull and stupid. At first she loathed herself, and if Coupeau laid why. With kind frankness she pointed out to her that Coupeau had
fallen into evil habits and was living on her labors and would in
all probability continue to do so. The truth was that Mme Goujet By this time Mes-Bottes was what is properly called howling drunk, and
as he staggered away from the counter he struck the bag of tools which
Coupeau had over his shoulder. Gervaise felt as if she were choking; her eyes smarted, and her head
was heavy with the fumes of alcohol. She turned around and saw the CHAPTER II

GERVAISE AND COUPEAU
The day that Nana--which was the pet name given to the little
girl--was three years old Coupeau, on coming in, found his wife in Nana was not yet thoroughly perverted, but the curiosity which had
been her distinguishing characteristic as a child had not deserted
her, and she scarcely took her eyes from a girl by the name of Lisa,
about whom strange stories were told. "She?" Lantier exclaimed. "Who is she? Ah yes, I remember. Nana! No,
she said nothing more." made the dull street radiant with her youth and her beauty. She went
by the name of "The Little Chicken." One gown, in particular, suited
her to perfection. It was white with rose-colored dots, without Nana turned like lightning to protect her treasures. She looked her
father full in the face, and, forgetting the lessons taught her by
her priest, she said in a low, concentrated voice:

"Beast!" That was all. Nana and Pauline were deep ones. They did nothing without
premeditation. If they ran it was to show their slender ankles, and name. She knew it was coming. Virginie drew nearer to her. The
apprentices lingered over their coffee and told each other as they
looked stupidly into the street what they would do if they had an of herself that it was doubtful if she laid it aside at night. The
Gaudron household followed. The husband, enormously stout, looked as
if his vest would burst at the least movement, and his wife, who was Boche leaned over her with a sensual smile and entreated an
explanation. She shook her head.

"Of course," she repeated. "Onions! I knew it!" But no one heard her. They had their own tale to tell then. How
Poisson had nearly murdered Lantier. Poisson was a tiger, and he ought But Gervaise lost her temper, which was not a common thing with
her, and as soon as the woman's back was turned called her by an She heard of her daughter several times. There are always plenty of
people to tell you things you do not care to hear. She was told that
Nana had left her elderly friend for the sake of some young fellow. But no one was listening, and no one feared her. She was very
tolerant. They could say what they pleased, provided they put it
in decent language. "Yes, she was in a carriage, dressed beautifully. I did not recognize
her at first, but she kissed her hand to me. Her friend this time must
be a vicomte at the least. She looked as happy as a queen." One day there was a terrible scene. Nana had invented a beautiful
game. She had stolen a wooden shoe belonging to Mme Boche; she bored But one night, just as they were going to bed, they heard a rap on the
door. It was Nana, who came to ask as coolly as possible if she could She read the young man's heart; she knew that his suspicions made
him miserable. And in revenge for something that had displeased
her she told him the truth with many sighs and tears, as if her Nana laughed an equivocal little laugh. Oh yes, she would promise. But
men never spoke to her; she walked too fast for that. What could they The women were laughing again by this time, but soon the cry began
again of "Enough! Enough!" All their little world laughed and told Gervaise that her friend
worshiped the very ground she trod upon. She colored and looked like
a girl of sixteen.
Coupeau drank all the more after this statement and was rarely or ever
sober. There began to be a strange bluish tone in his complexion. His Amid all this ruin Coupeau thrived surprisingly. Bad liquor seemed
to affect him agreeably. His appetite was good in spite of the amount Coupeau knew but one remedy for all this, and that was a good stout
morning dram. His memory had long since fled; his brain had softened. By this time Mes-Bottes was what is properly called howling drunk, and
as he staggered away from the counter he struck the bag of tools which
Coupeau had over his shoulder. and since Lantier had become a member of his household Coupeau had
never lifted a tool. He knew every drinking shop for miles around and
would sit and guzzle deep into the night, not always pleased to find One Monday evening Coupeau came in as tipsy as usual and threw
himself on the bed, all dressed. Gervaise intended to remain with Coupeau behaved very oddly. This blind and complacent husband, who
had closed his eyes to all that was going on at home, was filled with Coupeau by this time appeared, and more wine was sent for. But Poisson
dared linger no longer, and, stiff and haughty, he departed through
the courtyard. For a week Coupeau's life hung on a thread. His family and his friends
expected to see him die from one hour to another. The physician, an Coupeau was looking down on the floor intently. He raised his head
and said with an idiotic laugh: Four men bore Coupeau to a druggist's at the corner, where he lay for
an hour while a litter was sent for from the Hospital Lariboisiere. Coupeau reeled in, breaking a square of glass with his shoulder as
he missed the doorway. He was not tipsy but drunk, with his teeth set But Coupeau, seeing his wife's troubled face, interfered and said no
one should drink anything more. They had all had enough. The last summer of his life was especially trying to Coupeau. His
voice was entirely changed; he was deaf in one ear, and some days he "It is brandy!" he exclaimed.

Then the surgeon, on a sign from his chief, gave him some water, and
Coupeau did the same thing. About the last of June Coupeau became absolutely morose, and Gervaise
was so much disturbed by certain glances he gave her that she fairly By degrees her unreasonable fears of Lantier were conquered. Coupeau
was behaving very badly at this time, and one evening as she passed That evening everyone in the huge house in which Coupeau had lived
talked of his strange disease. The concierge, crazy to hear the In March Coupeau came in one night drenched to the skin. He had been
caught out in a shower. That night he could not sleep for coughing. The day after all this Coupeau had a frightful headache and did not
rise until late, too late to go to his work. About noon he began to
It was said in the street that Lantier had deserted Gervaise,
that she gave him no peace running after him, but this was not true, These words frightened Gervaise nearly out of her wits. One Saturday
evening, however, she consented. Coupeau came for her at half-past Gervaise retreated farther into the doorway and with difficulty kept
back a sob. She nervously entreated Coupeau to take the man away.

Bazonge staggered off, muttering as he did so: "Take me!" cried Gervaise. "Take me! I want to go away!"

"But there is a certain little operation first, you know----" And he
pretended to choke and rolled up his eyes. When Coupeau saw her go he was in actual consternation, and Gervaise
saw that it was best to make a move at once. Mme Boche had agreed to
keep the children with her for a day or two. They tore Virginie from her hands. The tall brunette, weeping and
sobbing, scarlet with shame, rushed out of the room, leaving Gervaise Lantier walked about a little and then, when he felt all right, went
home and told Gervaise that her husband was with his friends. Coupeau The doctors went away, and Gervaise, at the end of another hour,
said to the young surgeon:

"He is dead, sir." Gervaise did not know what to do with her or where to send her. At
this moment Lantier appeared at the door. He had dressed himself,
impelled by a little shame at his own conduct. They were speaking of Lantier. Gervaise had never seen him again;
she supposed him to be living with Virginie's sister, with a friend
who was about to start a manufactory for hats. Meanwhile Gervaise, who had disappeared, returned, pushing Etienne
before her. The boy was half asleep but smiled as he rubbed his eyes.
When he saw Lantier he stared and looked uneasily from him to Coupeau. out their pictures. The room was growing dark, and Gervaise fled from
it. Ah, what an awful thing life was! And how gladly would she throw Gervaise took refuge with her mother-in-law in a distant window,
feeling heartily ashamed of the whole scene. They hurried through their dinner, and as she went out with Lantier
at eight o'clock Gervaise begged Nana and Mamma Coupeau to go to bed Amid this sudden and fierce indignation Gervaise lived--indifferent,
dull and stupid. At first she loathed herself, and if Coupeau laid Her workwomen had been gone some time. Nana and Mamma Coupeau were in
bed, and Gervaise, who was just closing her shutters when her husband It was still raining and a cold, sharp wind blowing. Gervaise lost
Coupeau, found him and then lost him again. She wanted to go home, Gervaise felt faint and ill; all hope was gone. It seemed to her that
all was over and that Lantier would come no more. She looked from the being in the street when they departed. They vaguely remembered having
joined hands and danced around the table. Gervaise remembered that
Lantier was the last to leave, that he passed her as she stood in the Gervaise.
They moved in the month of April. Gervaise was then near her
confinement, but it was she who cleaned and put in order her new home. "He was very good to me once," answered Gervaise, "but since we came
to Paris he has changed. His mother died last year and left him about Gervaise did not know what to do with her or where to send her. At
this moment Lantier appeared at the door. He had dressed himself,
impelled by a little shame at his own conduct. Almost unconsciously Gervaise took her way to the shop where her
husband worked or, rather, pretended to work. She would wait for him
and get the money before he had a chance to spend it. Then came the moving, and finally Gervaise called herself settled in
her new home and was pleased as a child. As she came up the street
she could see her sign afar off:

  CLEARSTARCHER Gervaise, in her turn, had made her preparations, had worked late
into the night and laid aside thirty francs. She had set her heart These words frightened Gervaise nearly out of her wits. One Saturday
evening, however, she consented. Coupeau came for her at half-past and received thirty sous each time. Gervaise appeared on Saturday
mornings with her bucket and brush, without seeming to suffer a single
pang at doing this menial work in the house where she had lived as Gervaise entered with the air of a woman who is startled at finding
herself in a respectable place. He was pale and trembling. They In addition to her own sorrows and privations, Gervaise, whose
heart was not yet altogether hard, was condemned to hear now of the One evening Gervaise was alone. Goujet entered, took a chair in
silence and looked at her as he smoked his pipe. He seemed to be
revolving something in his mind. Suddenly he took his pipe from his
mouth. Coupeau found two chairs and made Gervaise seat herself near the
curtain. The room was so narrow that he could not sit beside her, so
he placed his chair a little behind and leaned over her to give her
the information he deemed desirable. had, in fact, spent the whole five hundred francs and were penniless,
contrary to their intentions. The morning that Gervaise first took Gervaise, to be sure, still made money, but she supported two men who
did nothing, and the shop, of course, did not make enough for that. When Gervaise awoke about five o'clock, stiff and sore, she burst into
wild sobs, for Lantier had not come in. For the first time he had "I do not think Cadet-Cassis so very bad," answered Gervaise, and she
asked him about his work. How long should he be employed on the new
hospital? Gervaise went with the crowd. No one looked at her, for the men were
all hurrying home to their dinner. Suddenly she looked up and beheld to Mme Goujet, who still resided in the same house as before. The
first year Gervaise had paid them twenty francs each month, or rather
the difference between the amount of their washing, seven or eight night. The Poissons arrived about eight o'clock; then Lantier,
carefully watching Gervaise, began to speak of the disgraceful act This was the beginning of a great friendship. In another week Virginie
could not pass the shop without going in, and sometimes she remained
for two or three hours. At first Gervaise was very uncomfortable;
These words frightened Gervaise nearly out of her wits. One Saturday
evening, however, she consented. Coupeau came for her at half-past Coupeau found two chairs and made Gervaise seat herself near the
curtain. The room was so narrow that he could not sit beside her, so
he placed his chair a little behind and leaned over her to give her
the information he deemed desirable. "And mine," said Gervaise, "is Coupeau." When Gervaise went back to her room she found Coupeau sitting on the
side of the bed, weeping and moaning. She took a chair near by and
looked at him without speaking. "Of course. No it must be, Monsieur Coupeau," answered Gervaise with
a smile. "Surely you do not intend to begin that again here! You And Coupeau was carried home, and as the litter was borne through the
_Quartier_ the women crowded together and extolled Gervaise. She Amid this sudden and fierce indignation Gervaise lived--indifferent,
dull and stupid. At first she loathed herself, and if Coupeau laid by the gorgeous entertainment given by the Coupeaus. She liked the
excitement; she liked to cook. She generally lived pretty well with
Gervaise, but on those days which occur in all households, when the One Monday evening Coupeau came in as tipsy as usual and threw
himself on the bed, all dressed. Gervaise intended to remain with Coupeau discovered that his daughter's partner was the young man for
whom he had been looking. Gervaise pushed him aside and walked up to Lantier walked about a little and then, when he felt all right, went
home and told Gervaise that her husband was with his friends. Coupeau And Gervaise moved cautiously for ten paces or more. She counted the
three steps, and then Coupeau pushed open a door without knocking.
A bright light streamed forth. They went in. Her husband having induced her to listen to reason, Coupeau went to
Gervaise, who was calmly conversing with her mother-in-law and Mme
Fauconnier. CHAPTER II

GERVAISE AND COUPEAU Her workwomen had been gone some time. Nana and Mamma Coupeau were in
bed, and Gervaise, who was just closing her shutters when her husband Gervaise retreated farther into the doorway and with difficulty kept
back a sob. She nervously entreated Coupeau to take the man away.

Bazonge staggered off, muttering as he did so: When Coupeau saw her go he was in actual consternation, and Gervaise
saw that it was best to make a move at once. Mme Boche had agreed to
keep the children with her for a day or two. Gervaise was in no way disturbed. Coupeau knew the way back well
enough; he would return in due season. She soon heard that he and Gervaise after a little, by dint of dwelling on this thought, had come
to consider it a certainty. Yes, Coupeau would bring home some money, Gervaise hunted in a bureau to find a little crucifix which she had
brought from Plassans, when she suddenly remembered that Mamma Coupeau
had sold it. They each took a glass of wine and sat by the stove until
daybreak.
Then came the moving, and finally Gervaise called herself settled in
her new home and was pleased as a child. As she came up the street
she could see her sign afar off:

  CLEARSTARCHER This was the beginning of a great friendship. In another week Virginie
could not pass the shop without going in, and sometimes she remained
for two or three hours. At first Gervaise was very uncomfortable; Gervaise was delighted. It seemed to her that she was once more in the
country--no neighbors, no gossip, no interference--and from the place Lantier stood whistling while she gave these directions. Gervaise
wore her silk dress, and she smiled as they walked down the street
in alternate shadow and light from the shopwindows. Nevertheless, when Gervaise became accustomed to her new surroundings
she grew more content. The pieces of furniture she had sold to Gervaise, in her turn, had made her preparations, had worked late
into the night and laid aside thirty francs. She had set her heart The next day the shop was taken, and Gervaise ran about with such
a light heart that there was a rumor that she had been cured of her
lameness by an operation.



CHAPTER V security as well as several other small but pressing debts. Gervaise
had now two or three streets open to her again, which for some time
she had not dared to enter. Lantier rang the changes on this subject for a week, but Gervaise said
she had decided to employ some woman and go to work again, and if she And Gervaise was very happy. She told him so and said her only anxiety
now was to be on her feet again as soon as possible, for they had to six hundred francs Gervaise could not rest, so tormented was she by
ambitious dreams. She wished to open a small establishment herself and Almost unconsciously Gervaise took her way to the shop where her
husband worked or, rather, pretended to work. She would wait for him
and get the money before he had a chance to spend it. Gervaise took her hands down from her face and looked around. When
she saw Virginie talking and laughing with two or three women a wild by the gorgeous entertainment given by the Coupeaus. She liked the
excitement; she liked to cook. She generally lived pretty well with
Gervaise, but on those days which occur in all households, when the Then Lantier became serious and businesslike. He spoke openly of
Virginie, who, he said, was looking for a shop; in fact, he now
remembered having heard her say that she would like just such a
one as this. In addition to her own sorrows and privations, Gervaise, whose
heart was not yet altogether hard, was condemned to hear now of the That night Gervaise told her husband that if he had thrown any
obstacles in the way of her taking the shop she believed she should Three years passed away. There were reconciliations and new quarrels.
Gervaise continued to be liked by her neighbors; she paid her bills "A nice-looking place, this!" he muttered.

Then examining Gervaise, he said half aloud and half to himself:

"So! You have given up washing yourself, it seems!" Gervaise gasped. She had utterly forgotten the shop. She saw the
delight of these people when they believed that this plan was given
As to Coupeau, if he worked he brought no money home, and his wife had
ceased to count upon it. Sometimes he declared he had lost it through About the first of November Coupeau turned over a new leaf; he
declared he was going to work the next day, and Lantier thereupon gone, and it was necessary to count the sous pretty closely, for there
were four mouths to feed, and they were all dependent on the work of
her two hands. When anyone found fault with Coupeau and blamed him Coupeau behaved very oddly. This blind and complacent husband, who
had closed his eyes to all that was going on at home, was filled with About the last of June Coupeau became absolutely morose, and Gervaise
was so much disturbed by certain glances he gave her that she fairly of the place where he was employed and get his wages from him before
he had spent them all, but this did no good, as Coupeau was warned
by his friends and escaped by a rear door. Coupeau staggered to his feet again, and a violent quarrel commenced.
Gervaise pressed her hands over her eyes; suddenly all was quiet, and
she opened her eyes again and looked out. Coupeau was looking down on the floor intently. He raised his head
and said with an idiotic laugh: Coupeau shook his comrade's hand and turned to depart, much to the
disgust of Mes-Bottes, who angrily asked if the master could not wait "I am obliged to leave you!" said Coupeau, rising at last with an
important air. "I promised my wife to go to work today, and I leave
you with the greatest reluctance." Coupeau by this time appeared, and more wine was sent for. But Poisson
dared linger no longer, and, stiff and haughty, he departed through
the courtyard. The last summer of his life was especially trying to Coupeau. His
voice was entirely changed; he was deaf in one ear, and some days he These words frightened Gervaise nearly out of her wits. One Saturday
evening, however, she consented. Coupeau came for her at half-past Gervaise retreated farther into the doorway and with difficulty kept
back a sob. She nervously entreated Coupeau to take the man away.

Bazonge staggered off, muttering as he did so: The day after all this Coupeau had a frightful headache and did not
rise until late, too late to go to his work. About noon he began to he knew there was money in the house. It was always because he was in
pressing need for some business matter. But still on those same days
he took Coupeau off with him and at some distant restaurant ordered The young man turned around and looked at Coupeau from head to foot.

"Learn," continued the angry workman, "that the blouse is the only
wear for a man!" By degrees her unreasonable fears of Lantier were conquered. Coupeau
was behaving very badly at this time, and one evening as she passed When she saw Coupeau out of danger Gervaise allowed his family to
approach him as they saw fit. His convalescence would be a matter of
months. This again was a ground of indignation for Mme Lorilleux. had not forgiven Coupeau for refusing to read during all his long
convalescence; this and many other things had alienated her and her
son from him, but they had in no degree lost their interest in
As to Coupeau, if he worked he brought no money home, and his wife had
ceased to count upon it. Sometimes he declared he had lost it through and since Lantier had become a member of his household Coupeau had
never lifted a tool. He knew every drinking shop for miles around and
would sit and guzzle deep into the night, not always pleased to find of the place where he was employed and get his wages from him before
he had spent them all, but this did no good, as Coupeau was warned
by his friends and escaped by a rear door. Coupeau drank all the more after this statement and was rarely or ever
sober. There began to be a strange bluish tone in his complexion. His Coupeau knew but one remedy for all this, and that was a good stout
morning dram. His memory had long since fled; his brain had softened. gone, and it was necessary to count the sous pretty closely, for there
were four mouths to feed, and they were all dependent on the work of
her two hands. When anyone found fault with Coupeau and blamed him Coupeau behaved very oddly. This blind and complacent husband, who
had closed his eyes to all that was going on at home, was filled with Amid all this ruin Coupeau thrived surprisingly. Bad liquor seemed
to affect him agreeably. His appetite was good in spite of the amount Four men bore Coupeau to a druggist's at the corner, where he lay for
an hour while a litter was sent for from the Hospital Lariboisiere. his devotions, passed out into the shop and said to Coupeau: About the last of June Coupeau became absolutely morose, and Gervaise
was so much disturbed by certain glances he gave her that she fairly By degrees her unreasonable fears of Lantier were conquered. Coupeau
was behaving very badly at this time, and one evening as she passed The day after all this Coupeau had a frightful headache and did not
rise until late, too late to go to his work. About noon he began to Coupeau was looking down on the floor intently. He raised his head
and said with an idiotic laugh: why. With kind frankness she pointed out to her that Coupeau had
fallen into evil habits and was living on her labors and would in
all probability continue to do so. The truth was that Mme Goujet The last summer of his life was especially trying to Coupeau. His
voice was entirely changed; he was deaf in one ear, and some days he The physicians watched Coupeau with care and interest. The phantoms
which had hitherto haunted him by night now appeared before him at About the first of November Coupeau turned over a new leaf; he
declared he was going to work the next day, and Lantier thereupon "You are very comfortable here, I am sure," he would say regularly.

Finally one night when he had uttered this phrase, as usual, Coupeau
cried out: When Gervaise went back to her room she found Coupeau sitting on the
side of the bed, weeping and moaning. She took a chair near by and
looked at him without speaking.
In addition to her own sorrows and privations, Gervaise, whose
heart was not yet altogether hard, was condemned to hear now of the Gervaise melted by degrees. Her resolution forsook her, and a weakness
of her heart and her senses overwhelmed her in the face of this brutal Almost unconsciously Gervaise took her way to the shop where her
husband worked or, rather, pretended to work. She would wait for him
and get the money before he had a chance to spend it. This was really a terrible blow to Gervaise, who had no longer the
smallest motive for self-control, and she abandoned herself at once of her husband drinking up everything? Why should she save for her
husband to spend at all the wineshops in the neighborhood? And
Gervaise accepted this excuse. She was growing very indolent and Amid this sudden and fierce indignation Gervaise lived--indifferent,
dull and stupid. At first she loathed herself, and if Coupeau laid Mme Goujet was always kind to Gervaise, not because of any fear of
losing her money, but because she really loved her and was afraid of
her going wrong in some way. It was not long before Gervaise realized she had made a mistake, for
when she was one day late with her October rent Mme Boche complained had, in fact, spent the whole five hundred francs and were penniless,
contrary to their intentions. The morning that Gervaise first took Gervaise, it is true, was not as gentle and sweet as she had been.
Everything seemed to be going wrong with her, and she had lost heart "Pshaw! It is only one drunkard the less!"

After this day Gervaise was not always quite right in her mind, and
it was one of the attractions of the house to see her act Coupeau. This was the beginning of a great friendship. In another week Virginie
could not pass the shop without going in, and sometimes she remained
for two or three hours. At first Gervaise was very uncomfortable; Gervaise, to be sure, still made money, but she supported two men who
did nothing, and the shop, of course, did not make enough for that. Gervaise was slightly, very slightly, lame, but her lameness was
perceptible, only on such days as she was very tired. This morning,
so weary was she from the watches of the night, that she could hardly
walk without support. Gervaise turned pale; it was clear that Mme Goujet meant to take away
her custom from her. She sank into a chair. She made no attempt at
excuses; she only asked a question. indolence and poverty increased, so did lack of cleanliness. No one
would ever have known that pretty blue shop in which Gervaise had
formerly taken such pride. The windows were unwashed and covered with After that Gervaise never dared to ask him for a centime. She got
bread, wine and meat on credit; bills were running up everywhere, for "Everything is here," answered Gervaise with a smile. "You know I
never leave anything behind."

"That is true," replied the elder woman. "You have many faults, my
dear, but not that one yet." Gervaise listened to all this at first listlessly, but she grew angry
at last and cried out: "You do not know what you have done, Gervaise. You are wrong--as you
will soon discover."
"I have made you wait too long, I am afraid," said Coupeau, whom she
suddenly heard at her side. "They make a great fuss when I do not dine But when she went in, to her astonishment she found Coupeau sitting
up. He welcomed her gaily.

"You are better!" she exclaimed. Coupeau, in fact, did not seem to notice his wife, who had not yet
seen his face. She went nearer. Was that really he? She never would Gervaise was in no way disturbed. Coupeau knew the way back well
enough; he would return in due season. She soon heard that he and sous, and in the evening came to sit with Coupeau. He did not say
much, but his companionship cheered and comforted the invalid. He
was tender and compassionate and was thrilled by the sweetness of "I must go," he said presently.

He was at the door when Coupeau recalled him to say that he must never
pass without coming in to say, "How do you do?" The Lorilleuxs looked at him with some suspicion, which, however,
was very far from the mark. An awkward silence followed, broken by
Coupeau, who said simply:

"He is a friend of ours!" had not forgiven Coupeau for refusing to read during all his long
convalescence; this and many other things had alienated her and her
son from him, but they had in no degree lost their interest in At this moment Coupeau entered. "You are very comfortable here, I am sure," he would say regularly.

Finally one night when he had uttered this phrase, as usual, Coupeau
cried out: Lantier walked about a little and then, when he felt all right, went
home and told Gervaise that her husband was with his friends. Coupeau Coupeau behaved very oddly. This blind and complacent husband, who
had closed his eyes to all that was going on at home, was filled with Meanwhile Gervaise, who had disappeared, returned, pushing Etienne
before her. The boy was half asleep but smiled as he rubbed his eyes.
When he saw Lantier he stared and looked uneasily from him to Coupeau. When he had departed Boche clapped Coupeau on the shoulder. "You may
thank me for that!" he cried and then went on to say that he was the Coupeau was looking down on the floor intently. He raised his head
and said with an idiotic laugh: Lantier kept his word and was seen from that time very often in the
shop. He came only when Coupeau was home and asked for him before he But Coupeau knew that Lantier was there, for he said:

"There's a fellow I know, and you know him too!" Coupeau by this time appeared, and more wine was sent for. But Poisson
dared linger no longer, and, stiff and haughty, he departed through
the courtyard. When she saw Coupeau out of danger Gervaise allowed his family to
approach him as they saw fit. His convalescence would be a matter of
months. This again was a ground of indignation for Mme Lorilleux. When people came and asked for Coupeau it was Lantier who appeared
in his shirt sleeves with the air of the man of the house who is
needlessly disturbed. He answered for Coupeau, said it was one and
the same thing.
Mme Boche took Nana home and then went about among her friends to tell
the story with interminable details. then went back to his shop. Mme Lorilleux shed a few tears and then
sent Nana to buy a pound of candles. In this great house, whence each month a girl or two took flight, this
incident astonished no one. The Lorilleuxs were rather triumphant at
the success of their prophecy. Lantier defended Nana. But one day Nana was kicked home by her father, and Boche dragged
Pauline away by her ear. Nana looked first at her mother and then at Lantier and then trotted
with her little bare feet into the next room and slipped into the bed
that was still warm. five or six francs per week. Gervaise had not decided yet, for Nana
had shown no especial leaning in any direction. She had a good deal
of taste, but she was butter-fingered and careless. Nana did not reply. She looked around the cheerless room, at the
cold stove, at her parents. She did not step across the threshold.
She turned and went away. When Nana appeared after an absence of six weeks he thought she had
been on an errand around the corner. She met him in the street, too,
very often now, without fear, for he passed without recognizing her. suffered from Nana's departure. A mother does not like to feel that
her daughter will leave her for the first person who asks her to do
so. Mme Lerat did not allow her niece after this day to set foot on the
street without her. Nana at first was inclined to rebel, but, on the Gervaise turned away pale and trembling, while Nana composed herself
to sleep again. But she was too thoroughly demoralized to care long, and soon she had
but one idea: that Nana belonged to her. Had she not a right to her
own property? They hurried through their dinner, and as she went out with Lantier
at eight o'clock Gervaise begged Nana and Mamma Coupeau to go to bed "She?" Lantier exclaimed. "Who is she? Ah yes, I remember. Nana! No,
she said nothing more." "By the way," said Lantier, addressing himself to Gervaise, "I saw
Nana last night."

Gervaise started to her feet with her brush in her hand. Her workwomen had been gone some time. Nana and Mamma Coupeau were in
bed, and Gervaise, who was just closing her shutters when her husband life for her--a comfortless home and a drunken father and mother. A
saint on earth could not have remained there; that she knew very well,
and she said she would make her escape some fine day, and then perhaps together. Twice the young lady was sent home in disgrace and then
taken back again for the sake of the six francs each month. As soon as turned out. She worked no more; she had nothing to eat; she lived amid
dirt and disorder. Her daughter had gone to the bad, and her husband She heard of her daughter several times. There are always plenty of
people to tell you things you do not care to hear. She was told that
Nana had left her elderly friend for the sake of some young fellow.
But this was the last bright day in that household. Two years passed
away, and their prospects grew darker and their demoralization and
degradation more evident. They went without food and without fire,
but never without brandy. "No, not angry, but still heartsick. All is over between us now
and forever." And he walked off with long strides, leaving Gervaise
stunned by his words. She read the young man's heart; she knew that his suspicions made
him miserable. And in revenge for something that had displeased
her she told him the truth with many sighs and tears, as if her But the truth was she died of utter weariness of life, and Father
Bazonge came the day she was found dead in her den. To have been one of the most flourishing laundresses in Paris and then
to make her bed in the gutter? They looked at each other once more,
and without a word each went their own way through the fast-falling Then with a heart torn with anguish and with tears in her eyes, she
told him of the death of Mme Bijard, who had breathed her last that
morning after suffering unheard-of agonies. contain so great a heart, and that he lost this precious treasure
was entirely her father's fault. He, wretched creature, had kicked
her mother to death and now, just as surely, murdered his daughter. But the saddest sight of all was the grief of a meek little woman in
black, whose husband, a tall, good-looking fellow, pushed her roughly therefore, on the old straw bed, that she lay waiting for death to
come. Apparently even Mother Earth would have none of her. She tried
several times to throw herself out of the window, but death took her down and never rise again--to feel that all toil was over. And this
was the end of her life! Gervaise, amid the pangs of hunger, thought Another hour, and yet another passed. Suddenly the feet were stiff
and motionless, and the young surgeon turned to Gervaise.

"He is dead," he said. "And do they still live in that same place?"

"No indeed! But I have not told you all yet. They separated a week
ago."

"Separated!" exclaimed the clearstarcher. Yes, it was on that street that she and her children would soon be
thrown, and she turned her hopeless, despairing eyes toward the outer misconduct. She, too, began to believe this herself and assumed at
times a tragic air and wished she were dead. Unquestionably she had No! This life could not last. She no longer cared for her father. He
had thoroughly disgusted her, and now her mother drank too. Gervaise turned out. She worked no more; she had nothing to eat; she lived amid
dirt and disorder. Her daughter had gone to the bad, and her husband But no one heard her. They had their own tale to tell then. How
Poisson had nearly murdered Lantier. Poisson was a tiger, and he ought Her poor brain was disturbed. She had bidden an eternal farewell to
Goujet. They would never see each other again. All was over between
them--love and friendship too. end. They all sang a melancholy ditty full of "ahs" and "ohs." Nana
declared this to be always the custom at funerals. About seven o'clock Coupeau woke. When he heard what had happened he
declared they were jesting. But when he saw the body he fell on his
They moved in the month of April. Gervaise was then near her
confinement, but it was she who cleaned and put in order her new home. Then came the moving, and finally Gervaise called herself settled in
her new home and was pleased as a child. As she came up the street
she could see her sign afar off:

  CLEARSTARCHER These words frightened Gervaise nearly out of her wits. One Saturday
evening, however, she consented. Coupeau came for her at half-past Amid this sudden and fierce indignation Gervaise lived--indifferent,
dull and stupid. At first she loathed herself, and if Coupeau laid It was the same room in which he had lived ever since she knew
him--small and almost virginal in its simplicity. Gervaise dared not
move. Coupeau found two chairs and made Gervaise seat herself near the
curtain. The room was so narrow that he could not sit beside her, so
he placed his chair a little behind and leaned over her to give her
the information he deemed desirable. Gervaise was delighted. It seemed to her that she was once more in the
country--no neighbors, no gossip, no interference--and from the place It was at this supper that Gervaise became acquainted with her
neighbors on the other side of the house. These were Mme Goujet, a And Gervaise moved cautiously for ten paces or more. She counted the
three steps, and then Coupeau pushed open a door without knocking.
A bright light streamed forth. They went in. Her workwomen had been gone some time. Nana and Mamma Coupeau were in
bed, and Gervaise, who was just closing her shutters when her husband Gervaise, on reaching the boulevard, turned to the left and followed
the Rue de la Goutte-d'Or. As she passed Mme Fauconnier's shop she Gervaise took refuge with her mother-in-law in a distant window,
feeling heartily ashamed of the whole scene. When Gervaise awoke about five o'clock, stiff and sore, she burst into
wild sobs, for Lantier had not come in. For the first time he had When Gervaise went back to her room she found Coupeau sitting on the
side of the bed, weeping and moaning. She took a chair near by and
looked at him without speaking. They were speaking of Lantier. Gervaise had never seen him again;
she supposed him to be living with Virginie's sister, with a friend
who was about to start a manufactory for hats. Gervaise looked from one to the other. She was literally dazed. When
her husband first appeared with her former lover she had clasped her "A nice-looking place, this!" he muttered.

Then examining Gervaise, he said half aloud and half to himself:

"So! You have given up washing yourself, it seems!" And the two men walked on toward the outer boulevard. Gervaise
followed them. Again she said:

"I am hungry. You know I have had nothing to eat. You must find me
something." They hurried through their dinner, and as she went out with Lantier
at eight o'clock Gervaise begged Nana and Mamma Coupeau to go to bed In addition to her own sorrows and privations, Gervaise, whose
heart was not yet altogether hard, was condemned to hear now of the
They moved in the month of April. Gervaise was then near her
confinement, but it was she who cleaned and put in order her new home. "He was very good to me once," answered Gervaise, "but since we came
to Paris he has changed. His mother died last year and left him about Gervaise, in her turn, had made her preparations, had worked late
into the night and laid aside thirty francs. She had set her heart and received thirty sous each time. Gervaise appeared on Saturday
mornings with her bucket and brush, without seeming to suffer a single
pang at doing this menial work in the house where she had lived as Then came the moving, and finally Gervaise called herself settled in
her new home and was pleased as a child. As she came up the street
she could see her sign afar off:

  CLEARSTARCHER In addition to her own sorrows and privations, Gervaise, whose
heart was not yet altogether hard, was condemned to hear now of the Gervaise. One autumnal afternoon Gervaise, who had been to carry a basket of
clothes home to a customer who lived a good way off, found herself in Almost unconsciously Gervaise took her way to the shop where her
husband worked or, rather, pretended to work. She would wait for him
and get the money before he had a chance to spend it. risks in a place like Paris. The nurse took the baby from the father's
hands and told Gervaise she must not talk. Coupeau said he must go and Lantier rang the changes on this subject for a week, but Gervaise said
she had decided to employ some woman and go to work again, and if she These words frightened Gervaise nearly out of her wits. One Saturday
evening, however, she consented. Coupeau came for her at half-past Gervaise entered with the air of a woman who is startled at finding
herself in a respectable place. He was pale and trembling. They had known nothing of the innocent happiness of her years. And Gervaise
took this slender creature for example, whose eyes alone told the
story of her misery and hardships, for in the Coupeau family the Gervaise did not even hear. She seemed entirely absorbed, as if she
were fulfilling an appointed task, and she talked with strange, wild
gaiety, recalling one of the rhymes of her childhood: Gervaise had long since resumed her work. She no longer lifted the
globe of her clock to take out her bankbook; her savings were all Gervaise, to be sure, still made money, but she supported two men who
did nothing, and the shop, of course, did not make enough for that. to Mme Goujet, who still resided in the same house as before. The
first year Gervaise had paid them twenty francs each month, or rather
the difference between the amount of their washing, seven or eight Gervaise, on reaching the boulevard, turned to the left and followed
the Rue de la Goutte-d'Or. As she passed Mme Fauconnier's shop she Gervaise went with the crowd. No one looked at her, for the men were
all hurrying home to their dinner. Suddenly she looked up and beheld
CHAPTER II

GERVAISE AND COUPEAU But Coupeau knew that Lantier was there, for he said:

"There's a fellow I know, and you know him too!" The Lorilleuxs looked at him with some suspicion, which, however,
was very far from the mark. An awkward silence followed, broken by
Coupeau, who said simply:

"He is a friend of ours!" At this moment Coupeau entered. Coupeau, in fact, did not seem to notice his wife, who had not yet
seen his face. She went nearer. Was that really he? She never would The keeper lifted Coupeau. No, he was not dead; his bare feet quivered
with a regular motion. The surgeon in chief came in, bringing two Coupeau was looking down on the floor intently. He raised his head
and said with an idiotic laugh: "I have made you wait too long, I am afraid," said Coupeau, whom she
suddenly heard at her side. "They make a great fuss when I do not dine When people came and asked for Coupeau it was Lantier who appeared
in his shirt sleeves with the air of the man of the house who is
needlessly disturbed. He answered for Coupeau, said it was one and
the same thing. sous, and in the evening came to sit with Coupeau. He did not say
much, but his companionship cheered and comforted the invalid. He
was tender and compassionate and was thrilled by the sweetness of Gervaise, seeing the doctors lay their hands on Coupeau's body,
wished to do the same. She approached softly and placed her hand
on his shoulder and left it there for a minute. "And mine," said Gervaise, "is Coupeau." Coupeau behaved very oddly. This blind and complacent husband, who
had closed his eyes to all that was going on at home, was filled with For a week Coupeau's life hung on a thread. His family and his friends
expected to see him die from one hour to another. The physician, an "She is crazy!" said Coupeau when he saw her. "I tell you, she is
crazy!" But when she went in, to her astonishment she found Coupeau sitting
up. He welcomed her gaily.

"You are better!" she exclaimed. Four men bore Coupeau to a druggist's at the corner, where he lay for
an hour while a litter was sent for from the Hospital Lariboisiere. "You are very comfortable here, I am sure," he would say regularly.

Finally one night when he had uttered this phrase, as usual, Coupeau
cried out: understand, but she gathered that Coupeau had gone on in the same way
all night. Finally he said this was the wife of the patient. Wherefore
the surgeon in chief turned and interrogated her with the air of a In the meantime Coupeau rolled a new cigarette. He was very neat and
clean, wearing a blouse and a little blue cloth cap and showing his
white teeth as he smiled.
the rooms had heard that a primitive wedding party was making a tour
of the Louvre and hurried with laughing faces to enjoy the scene,
while the weary bride and bridegroom, accompanied by their friends, The wedding party, coming out of La Rue St-Denis, crossed the
boulevard under their umbrellas amid the pouring rain, driving here excited, went gaily on. They stopped for a moment on the Place des
Victoire--the bride's shoestring was untied--she fastened it at the The party went at once to the Moulin d'Argent. Coupeau now walked with
his wife some little distance in advance of the others. They whispered They walked around the salon. Gervaise asked the meaning of one of
the pictures, the _Noces de Cana_; Coupeau stopped before _La
Joconde_, declaring that it was like one of his aunts. The wedding party finally entered the long gallery devoted to the
Italian and Flemish schools of art. The pictures were all meaningless of all heights, sizes and styles. The shopkeepers on the boulevard
crowded to their windows to enjoy the drollery of the sight.
The wedding procession, quite undisturbed by the observation it their places. The center altar was being prepared for some fete, for
the hammers were heard as the decorations were being nailed up. And in At the church the ceremony was of short duration. The Mass dragged
a little because the priest was very old. the service, gabbling the Latin phrases with sidelong glances at the
bridal party. The bride and bridegroom knelt before the altar in
considerable embarrassment, not knowing when it was necessary to kneel Finally they reached the Louvre. Here Madinier politely asked
permission to take the head of the party; the place was so large, And they smiled as they stood at opposite sides of this long table
with its glossy white cloth and its places for fourteen carefully
laid. They worshiped there as if it had been a chapel erected in the
middle of the shop. had shown them a certain room to which he could go with his eyes shut.
But he was very much mistaken. Salon succeeded to salon, and finally
the party went up a flight of stairs and found themselves among The idea was received with applause. The party started forth. A fine
drizzling rain was now falling, but they were too warm within to mind
this light sprinkling on their shoulders. When the signatures were again affixed to the register in the vestry
and the party stood outside in the sunshine, they had a sensation as
if they had been driven at full speed and were glad to rest. which touched him deeply. He was not the only person who wept, he
was glad to see, and when the ceremony was over he left the church
feeling that it was the happiest day of his life. But an hour later The civil marriage was fixed for half-past ten. The day was clear and
the sun intensely hot. In order not to excite observation the bridal Finally they reached the door and went out of the place, leaving it
crowded to overflowing. The fumes of alcohol and the tipsy voices of
the men carousing went out into the street with them. "That is the balcony where Charles IX fired on the people!"

With a magnificent gesture he ordered his party to stand still in the
center of the Salon Carre. Then they turned to the register and wrote their names in big, crooked
letters--all but the newly made husband, who, not being able to write,
contented himself with making a cross.
Gervaise, in her turn, had made her preparations, had worked late
into the night and laid aside thirty francs. She had set her heart Almost unconsciously Gervaise took her way to the shop where her
husband worked or, rather, pretended to work. She would wait for him
and get the money before he had a chance to spend it. Gervaise did not care for any great wedding. Why should they spend
their money so foolishly? Then, too, she felt a little ashamed and Gervaise had long since resumed her work. She no longer lifted the
globe of her clock to take out her bankbook; her savings were all Mme Goujet was always kind to Gervaise, not because of any fear of
losing her money, but because she really loved her and was afraid of
her going wrong in some way. of her husband drinking up everything? Why should she save for her
husband to spend at all the wineshops in the neighborhood? And
Gervaise accepted this excuse. She was growing very indolent and Gervaise. These words frightened Gervaise nearly out of her wits. One Saturday
evening, however, she consented. Coupeau came for her at half-past Gervaise, to be sure, still made money, but she supported two men who
did nothing, and the shop, of course, did not make enough for that. had, in fact, spent the whole five hundred francs and were penniless,
contrary to their intentions. The morning that Gervaise first took placed above her. Naturally at the end of the week Gervaise had little
money coming to her. Coupeau and Lantier made the money fly. Lantier was continually
borrowing money from Gervaise--ten francs, twenty francs--whenever Lantier all this time was fretting and scolding at the Coupeaus,
asking Gervaise what on earth she intended to do, begging her to In addition to her own sorrows and privations, Gervaise, whose
heart was not yet altogether hard, was condemned to hear now of the "Ah, it is you, is it?" said Mme Lorilleux. "What do you want?"

Gervaise hesitated. The application for ten sous stuck in her throat,
because she saw Boche seated by the stove. "There are three of us," said Gervaise after a long calculation; "if
we each pay thirty francs we can do it with decency."

But Mme Lorilleux burst out furiously: to Mme Goujet, who still resided in the same house as before. The
first year Gervaise had paid them twenty francs each month, or rather
the difference between the amount of their washing, seven or eight Gervaise went to Goujet and borrowed sixty francs, which, added to
thirty from Mme Lerat, would pay the expenses of the funeral. In years old, nearly blind and helpless. They must all unite in doing
something for her now. Gervaise thought it a burning shame that a
woman of her age, with three well-to-do children, should be allowed Gervaise after a little, by dint of dwelling on this thought, had come
to consider it a certainty. Yes, Coupeau would bring home some money,
Coupeau was looking down on the floor intently. He raised his head
and said with an idiotic laugh: At this moment Coupeau entered. The keeper lifted Coupeau. No, he was not dead; his bare feet quivered
with a regular motion. The surgeon in chief came in, bringing two crowded. They could not find a table, and they stood waiting until
they could establish themselves. Coupeau was directly in the mouth of
the passage, and a young man in a frock coat was thrown against him. Four men bore Coupeau to a druggist's at the corner, where he lay for
an hour while a litter was sent for from the Hospital Lariboisiere. But Coupeau knew that Lantier was there, for he said:

"There's a fellow I know, and you know him too!" Coupeau, in fact, did not seem to notice his wife, who had not yet
seen his face. She went nearer. Was that really he? She never would About seven o'clock Coupeau woke. When he heard what had happened he
declared they were jesting. But when he saw the body he fell on his Coupeau, with his bag of tools on his shoulder, shuffled along; his
footsteps had long since lost their ring. Coupeau behaved very oddly. This blind and complacent husband, who
had closed his eyes to all that was going on at home, was filled with Coupeau said he could do it. After all, it was a simple thing
enough--he should just tear it to pieces.

There was a cry of dismay. Coupeau was speaking fast and looking all about, as if he were
examining the underbrush in the Bois de Vincennes. By this time Mes-Bottes was what is properly called howling drunk, and
as he staggered away from the counter he struck the bag of tools which
Coupeau had over his shoulder. Coupeau staggered to his feet again, and a violent quarrel commenced.
Gervaise pressed her hands over her eyes; suddenly all was quiet, and
she opened her eyes again and looked out. For a week Coupeau's life hung on a thread. His family and his friends
expected to see him die from one hour to another. The physician, an Coupeau reeled in, breaking a square of glass with his shoulder as
he missed the doorway. He was not tipsy but drunk, with his teeth set Coupeau fancied, as he had been thrown back from the wall in front,
that he was now attacked in the rear, and he leaped over the mattress At the end of two months Coupeau was on his feet again and could
move--with difficulty, of course--as far as the window, where he sat When she reached the hospital she heard a strange story. It seems that
Coupeau--how, no one could say--had escaped from the hospital and had "My very lameness--" she continued.

"Your lameness?" interrupted Coupeau gallantly. "Why, it is almost
nothing. No one would ever notice it!"
Coupeau was looking down on the floor intently. He raised his head
and said with an idiotic laugh: the two men fall to the ground. Virginie and Mme Boche had something
of the same feeling. Coupeau had been so overcome by the fresh air
that when he rushed forward to take Lantier by the collar he missed Coupeau staggered to his feet again, and a violent quarrel commenced.
Gervaise pressed her hands over her eyes; suddenly all was quiet, and
she opened her eyes again and looked out. Coupeau shook hands with the ladies in succession, with difficulty
keeping his feet as he did so, and Gervaise, in a choked voice, begged About seven o'clock Coupeau woke. When he heard what had happened he
declared they were jesting. But when he saw the body he fell on his Goujet left the women outside and, going in, placed his hand on
Coupeau's shoulder, who, when he saw his wife and Virginie, fell
into a great rage. Coupeau behaved very oddly. This blind and complacent husband, who
had closed his eyes to all that was going on at home, was filled with Coupeau said he could do it. After all, it was a simple thing
enough--he should just tear it to pieces.

There was a cry of dismay. Gervaise stood aghast at the disgusting sight that met her eyes as
she entered the room where Coupeau lay wallowing on the floor. The keeper lifted Coupeau. No, he was not dead; his bare feet quivered
with a regular motion. The surgeon in chief came in, bringing two For a week Coupeau's life hung on a thread. His family and his friends
expected to see him die from one hour to another. The physician, an Coupeau fancied, as he had been thrown back from the wall in front,
that he was now attacked in the rear, and he leaped over the mattress But Coupeau knew that Lantier was there, for he said:

"There's a fellow I know, and you know him too!" As to Coupeau, if he worked he brought no money home, and his wife had
ceased to count upon it. Sometimes he declared he had lost it through Coupeau, in fact, did not seem to notice his wife, who had not yet
seen his face. She went nearer. Was that really he? She never would "I have made you wait too long, I am afraid," said Coupeau, whom she
suddenly heard at her side. "They make a great fuss when I do not dine She leaned against the wall, utterly overcome. The physician turned
away. He knelt on the mattress and carefully watched Coupeau; he At this moment Coupeau entered. his devotions, passed out into the shop and said to Coupeau: Coupeau by this time appeared, and more wine was sent for. But Poisson
dared linger no longer, and, stiff and haughty, he departed through
the courtyard.
In addition to her own sorrows and privations, Gervaise, whose
heart was not yet altogether hard, was condemned to hear now of the Almost unconsciously Gervaise took her way to the shop where her
husband worked or, rather, pretended to work. She would wait for him
and get the money before he had a chance to spend it. by the gorgeous entertainment given by the Coupeaus. She liked the
excitement; she liked to cook. She generally lived pretty well with
Gervaise, but on those days which occur in all households, when the The next day Gervaise was miserable, unhappy and restless. She could
not iron a handkerchief. She wanted to see Goujet and tell him just Gervaise now quarreled with her husband incessantly. The warmth of
affection of husband and wife, of parents for their children and
children for their parents had fled and left them all shivering,
each apart from the other. In spite of her debts, in spite of the shifts to which her increasing
poverty condemned her, Gervaise would have considered herself quite
well off, but for the exacting selfishness of Lantier and Coupeau. Gervaise, in her turn, had made her preparations, had worked late
into the night and laid aside thirty francs. She had set her heart Gervaise, to be sure, still made money, but she supported two men who
did nothing, and the shop, of course, did not make enough for that. Gervaise did her best, but, after all, what can a wife do in such
circumstances? "Pshaw! It is only one drunkard the less!"

After this day Gervaise was not always quite right in her mind, and
it was one of the attractions of the house to see her act Coupeau. In reality Gervaise was more afraid of Lantier than she was willing
to admit even to herself. She was fully determined never to allow
the smallest familiarity, but she was afraid that she might yield "Your mother likes me no longer," said Gervaise in a low voice. "Do
not say no; how can it be otherwise? We owe you so much money." No! This life could not last. She no longer cared for her father. He
had thoroughly disgusted her, and now her mother drank too. Gervaise "Everything is here," answered Gervaise with a smile. "You know I
never leave anything behind."

"That is true," replied the elder woman. "You have many faults, my
dear, but not that one yet." After that Gervaise never dared to ask him for a centime. She got
bread, wine and meat on credit; bills were running up everywhere, for had known nothing of the innocent happiness of her years. And Gervaise
took this slender creature for example, whose eyes alone told the
story of her misery and hardships, for in the Coupeau family the years old, nearly blind and helpless. They must all unite in doing
something for her now. Gervaise thought it a burning shame that a
woman of her age, with three well-to-do children, should be allowed Lantier all this time was fretting and scolding at the Coupeaus,
asking Gervaise what on earth she intended to do, begging her to might come in, they said, or stay out, just as she pleased, provided
she kept the door shut. Only one thing exasperated Gervaise now, and Gervaise melted by degrees. Her resolution forsook her, and a weakness
of her heart and her senses overwhelmed her in the face of this brutal
In addition to her own sorrows and privations, Gervaise, whose
heart was not yet altogether hard, was condemned to hear now of the down and never rise again--to feel that all toil was over. And this
was the end of her life! Gervaise, amid the pangs of hunger, thought Gervaise felt faint and ill; all hope was gone. It seemed to her that
all was over and that Lantier would come no more. She looked from the years old, nearly blind and helpless. They must all unite in doing
something for her now. Gervaise thought it a burning shame that a
woman of her age, with three well-to-do children, should be allowed Gervaise melted by degrees. Her resolution forsook her, and a weakness
of her heart and her senses overwhelmed her in the face of this brutal Amid this sudden and fierce indignation Gervaise lived--indifferent,
dull and stupid. At first she loathed herself, and if Coupeau laid had, in fact, spent the whole five hundred francs and were penniless,
contrary to their intentions. The morning that Gervaise first took Gervaise, to be sure, still made money, but she supported two men who
did nothing, and the shop, of course, did not make enough for that. Gervaise staggered to her feet. He, too, rejected her and would have
nothing to do with her. She crawled into her room and threw herself on
her straw. She was sorry she had eaten anything and delayed the work
of starvation. It was said in the street that Lantier had deserted Gervaise,
that she gave him no peace running after him, but this was not true, When Gervaise went back to her room she found Coupeau sitting on the
side of the bed, weeping and moaning. She took a chair near by and
looked at him without speaking. This was really a terrible blow to Gervaise, who had no longer the
smallest motive for self-control, and she abandoned herself at once In the meantime Gervaise went directly to Mme Lerat and Mme Lorilleux
and said faintly:

"He is dead--after four days of horror." had known nothing of the innocent happiness of her years. And Gervaise
took this slender creature for example, whose eyes alone told the
story of her misery and hardships, for in the Coupeau family the Her workwomen had been gone some time. Nana and Mamma Coupeau were in
bed, and Gervaise, who was just closing her shutters when her husband "Pshaw! It is only one drunkard the less!"

After this day Gervaise was not always quite right in her mind, and
it was one of the attractions of the house to see her act Coupeau. After that Gervaise never dared to ask him for a centime. She got
bread, wine and meat on credit; bills were running up everywhere, for Gervaise turned pale; it was clear that Mme Goujet meant to take away
her custom from her. She sank into a chair. She made no attempt at
excuses; she only asked a question. "Your mother likes me no longer," said Gervaise in a low voice. "Do
not say no; how can it be otherwise? We owe you so much money." These words frightened Gervaise nearly out of her wits. One Saturday
evening, however, she consented. Coupeau came for her at half-past
Amid this sudden and fierce indignation Gervaise lived--indifferent,
dull and stupid. At first she loathed herself, and if Coupeau laid These words frightened Gervaise nearly out of her wits. One Saturday
evening, however, she consented. Coupeau came for her at half-past Coupeau discovered that his daughter's partner was the young man for
whom he had been looking. Gervaise pushed him aside and walked up to They finished their coffee. This tale might or might not be true; it
was not improbable, at all events. And after this it was circulated
and generally believed in the _Quartier_ that Gervaise had sold
her daughter. had known nothing of the innocent happiness of her years. And Gervaise
took this slender creature for example, whose eyes alone told the
story of her misery and hardships, for in the Coupeau family the Her workwomen had been gone some time. Nana and Mamma Coupeau were in
bed, and Gervaise, who was just closing her shutters when her husband When Gervaise went back to her room she found Coupeau sitting on the
side of the bed, weeping and moaning. She took a chair near by and
looked at him without speaking. It was still raining and a cold, sharp wind blowing. Gervaise lost
Coupeau, found him and then lost him again. She wanted to go home, They hurried through their dinner, and as she went out with Lantier
at eight o'clock Gervaise begged Nana and Mamma Coupeau to go to bed Lantier all this time was fretting and scolding at the Coupeaus,
asking Gervaise what on earth she intended to do, begging her to When she saw Coupeau out of danger Gervaise allowed his family to
approach him as they saw fit. His convalescence would be a matter of
months. This again was a ground of indignation for Mme Lorilleux. The Coupeaus pretended to be rather pleased, but in their hearts they
raged, particularly as they soon learned that Nana was frequently seen
in the _Quartier_. Gervaise declared this was done by the girl to
annoy them. But her face bore the traces of such frightful agony that Gervaise
fell on her knees by the side of the bed. She knew that the child
had had a cough for a month, and she saw the blood trickling from
the corners of her mouth. Gervaise hunted in a bureau to find a little crucifix which she had
brought from Plassans, when she suddenly remembered that Mamma Coupeau
had sold it. They each took a glass of wine and sat by the stove until
daybreak. "Of course. No it must be, Monsieur Coupeau," answered Gervaise with
a smile. "Surely you do not intend to begin that again here! You When Coupeau saw her go he was in actual consternation, and Gervaise
saw that it was best to make a move at once. Mme Boche had agreed to
keep the children with her for a day or two. Gervaise. Gervaise went to Lantier and waked him.

"She is dead," she said.

"Well, what of it?" he muttered, half asleep. "Why don't you go to
sleep?" In addition to her own sorrows and privations, Gervaise, whose
heart was not yet altogether hard, was condemned to hear now of the Meanwhile Gervaise, who had disappeared, returned, pushing Etienne
before her. The boy was half asleep but smiled as he rubbed his eyes.
When he saw Lantier he stared and looked uneasily from him to Coupeau.
What did Lantier do to Gervaise and her two sons? Who is Anna? How did Coupeau injure himself? Who returns into Gervaise's life? What does Coupeau engage in after his injury? Who becomes an alcoholic besides Coupeau? What was the nickname of Anna? What happens to Coupeau from his excessive drinking? Who does Gervaise Macquart run away with? What employment does Gervaise get when they arrive in Paris? Where are Coupeau and Gervaise married? When things are looking up for Gervaise, what business is she able to open? What event forces Coupeau out of work? What addiction does Coupeau suffer from after losing his employment? What character flaw causes Gervaise to eventually lose her business? Who does Coupeau welcome back after his long absence? What employment does Nana find after running away from home? What event ends this tragic story? Where do Gervaise and her lover move to at the beginning of the novel? What job does Gervaise take when she moves to Paris? Who is Coupeau? What landmark does the couples wedding party visit? What is Gervaise saving money for? How is Coupeau injured? What happens as a result of Coupeau's fall? What prevents Gervaise from keeping her household together? What happens to Gervaise after her business fails? What happens to Gervaise and Coupeau's daughter?
He abandoned them. LEFT
The daughter of Gervaise and Coupeau. The daughter
He fell from a hospital roof. He falls off a roof
Lantier. Lanier
Drinking. he starts drinking
Gervaise. Gervaise. 
Nana. Nana
He becomes an alcoholic. He becomes very ill. 
Her lover Lantier GERVIASE HER LOVER
Gervaise becomes a washerwoman washerwoman
In the Louvre The louvre. 
A laundry LAUNDRY SHOP
A fall from a hospital roof He's injured in a fall from a roof.
Alcololism alcoholism 
Excessive pride pride
Lantier Lantier
Nana becomes a streetwalker streetwalker
The death of Gervaise Gervaise dies.
Paris. Paris
Works in a laundry washing clothes. Washerwoman 
The man that Gervaise marries. Gervaise's husband. 
The Loovre. LOUVRE
To open her own laundry business. Gervaise saves money to open her own laundry.
Falling off the roof of a hospital. FELL OFF A ROOF
He becomes an unemployed alcoholic. Coupeau becomes an alcoholic.
Her pride. Her and her husband's drinking along with other bad decisions
She becomes an alcoholic. she becomes an alcoholic
She becomes a prostitute. she ran away from home and became a streetwalker