Her anxious glances searched the corners and sought amongst all that
filth for the resplendence she had dreamt of. But Coupeau burst out
laughing.

"Gold?" said he; "why there's some; there's some more, and there's some
at your feet!"

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.

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:

"I'm making the herring-bone chain."