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.

"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."

And, as Lorilleux led him away, he turned around, and stuttered out a
last sentence, between two hiccoughs.

"When you're dead--listen to this--when you're dead, it's for a long,
long time."



CHAPTER IV.

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