"Yes, it's a quick job," Lorilleux smirked. "In five minutes you're tied
together for the rest of your life. You poor Young Cassis, you've had
it."

The four witnesses whacked Coupeau on the shoulders as he arched his
back against the friendly blows. Meanwhile Gervaise was hugging and
kissing mother Coupeau, her eyes moist, a smile lighting her face. She
replied reassuringly to the old woman's sobbing: "Don't worry, I'll do
my best. I want so much to have a happy life. If it doesn't work out
it won't be my fault. Anyhow, it's done now. It's up to us to get along
together and do the best we can for each other."

After that they went straight to the Silver Windmill. Coupeau had taken
his wife's arm. They walked quickly, laughing as though carried away,
quite two hundred steps ahead of the others, without noticing the houses
or the passers-by, or the vehicles. The deafening noises of the faubourg
sounded like bells in their ears. When they reached the wineshop,
Coupeau at once ordered two bottles of wine, some bread and some slices
of ham, to be served in the little glazed closet on the ground floor,
without plates or table cloth, simply to have a snack. Then, noticing
that Boche and Bibi-the-Smoker seemed to be very hungry, he had a third
bottle brought, as well as a slab of brie cheese. Mother Coupeau was not
hungry, being too choked up to be able to eat. Gervaise found herself
very thirsty, and drank several large glasses of water with a small
amount of wine added.

"I'll settle for this," said Coupeau, going at once to the bar, where he
paid four francs and five sous.

It was now one o'clock and the other guests began to arrive. Madame