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.

"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."

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.

"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."

"They've got gold in their room?" asked Gervaise.