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Updated: May 22, 2025
He vowed that no one should drink too much and finally obtained the young woman's consent and organized a picnic at five francs per head at the Moulin d'Argent, Boulevard de la Chapelle. He was a small wine merchant who had a garden back of his restaurant. He made out a list. Among others appeared the names of two of his comrades, Bibi-la-Grillade and Mes-Bottes.
As she hesitated Mes-Bottes said gallantly: "The lady would like something sweet like herself." "I like men," she answered angrily, "who do not get tipsy and talk like fools! I like men who keep their promises!" Her husband laughed. "You had better drink your share," he said, "for the devil a bit of a circus will you see tonight." She looked at him fixedly. A heavy frown contracted her eyebrows.
But Coupeau, seeing his wife's troubled face, interfered and said no one should drink anything more. They had all had enough. This declaration met with the approval of some of the party, but the others sided with Mes-Bottes. "Those who are thirsty are thirsty," he said. "No one need drink that does not wish to do so, I am sure."
Coupeau shook his comrade's hand and turned to depart, much to the disgust of Mes-Bottes, who angrily asked if the master could not wait five minutes. He could not go until he had taken a drink. Lantier entered to join in, and Mes-Bottes stood there with his hat on the back of his head, shabby, dirty and staggering, ordering Father Colombe to pour out the glasses and not to cheat.
Coupeau was behaving very badly at this time, and one evening as she passed the Assommoir she was certain she saw him drinking with Mes-Bottes. She hurried on lest she should seem to be watching him. But as she hastened she looked over her shoulder. Yes, it was Coupeau who was tossing down a glass of liquor with an air as if it were no new thing. He had lied to her then; he did drink brandy.
Coupeau and Mes-Bottes played a game of cards, while wine and glasses occupied the center of the table. "What is the news?" asked Bibi. Lantier did not reply instantly, but presently, as the others emptied their glasses, he began to read aloud an account of a frightful murder, to which they listened with eager interest.
She was describing her dolls to Mes-Bottes, whose jaws worked steadily, like machinery. He did not listen, but he nodded at intervals, with his eyes fixed on the garcons to see that they carried away no dishes that were not emptied. There had been veal cutlets and string beans served. As a roti, two lean chickens on a bed of water cresses were brought in.
The still, with its intricate and endless coils of wire and pipes, had a dreary aspect. Not a breath escaped from it, and hardly a sound was heard. It was like some night task performed in daylight by a melancholy, silent workman. In the meantime Mes-Bottes, accompanied by his two comrades, had lounged to the oak railing and leaned there until there was a corner of the counter free.
It is Mes-Bottes, a comrade of mine." The Assommoir was now crowded with boisterous men. Two glasses rang with the energy with which they brought down their fists on the counter. They stood in rows, with their hands crossed over their stomachs or folded behind their backs, waiting their turn to be served by Father Colombe. "Hallo!" cried Mes-Bottes, giving Coupeau a rough slap on the shoulders.
Gervaise laid her hands on her husband's shoulders as he left the cabaret. "I am hungry," she said softly. "Hungry, are you? Well then, eat your fist and keep the other for tomorrow." "Shall I steal a loaf of bread?" she asked in a dull, dreary tone. Mes-Bottes smoothed his chin and said in a conciliatory voice: "No, no! Don't do that; it is against the law. But if a woman manages "
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