"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!"

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.

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.

"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."