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Updated: May 17, 2025
"Is he going to badger us much longer about his work?" cried My-Boots. "So this is your turn, sir?" asked Pere Colombe of Coupeau. The latter paid. But when it came to Bibi-the-Smoker's turn he whispered to the landlord who refused with a shake of the head. My-Boots understood, and again set to abusing the old Jew Colombe. What! A rascal like him dared to behave in that way to a comrade!
Even if his comrades tried to hide him, she could usually sniff him out when he was late. Just the night before she had slapped his face with a flounder to teach him not to neglect going to work. Bibi-the-Smoker and My-Boots nearly split their sides laughing. They slapped Gervaise on the shoulder and she began to laugh also, finding it amusing in spite of herself.
It's no worse to be called Young Cassis than My-Boots, is it?" "Of course not. Young Cassis isn't an ugly name," observed the young woman. And she questioned him about his work. He was still working there, behind the octroi wall at the new hospital. Oh! there was no want of work, he would not be finished there for a year at least. There were yards and yards of gutters!
What a rum card he was that My-Boots! One day he had eaten a dozen hard-boiled eggs and drank a dozen glasses of wine while the clock was striking twelve! There are not many who can do that. And Mademoiselle Remanjou, deeply moved, watched My-Boots chew whilst Monsieur Madinier, seeking for a word to express his almost respectful astonishment, declared that such a capacity was extraordinary.
Coupeau, who had been watching a workman, completely soaked, yet quietly walking along in the rain, murmured: "If that animal My-Boots is waiting for us on the Route de Saint-Denis, he won't catch a sunstroke." That made some of them laugh; but the general ill-humor increased. It was becoming ludicrous.
Madame Fauconnier declared she had had a very disappointing meal; at home she could have had a finger-licking dish for only two francs. Madame Gaudron bitterly complained that she had been shoved down to the worst end of the table next to My-Boots who had ignored her. These parties never turned out well, one should be more careful whom one invites.
There were already several people in the shop, friends and neighbors Monsieur Madinier, My-Boots, Madame Gaudron, Mademoiselle Remanjou; and every minute, a man's or a woman's head was thrust out of the gaping opening of the door between the closed shutters, to see if that creeping hearse was in sight. The family, all together in the back room, was shaking hands.
They had cured him there so often that they could once more do him the sorry service of putting him on his pins again. Had she not heard that very morning that for the week before Coupeau had been seen as round as a ball, rolling about Belleville from one dram shop to another in the company of My-Boots. Exactly so; and it was My-Boots, too, who stood treat.
"Don't all talk at once," said Boche, as everyone remained silent with his nose in his plate. They were drinking the first glass of wine as their eyes followed two meat pies which the waiters were handing round when My-Boots entered the room. "Well, you're a scurvy lot, you people!" said he.
It was unexpected and seemed very fancy. My-Boots was still eating. He had asked for another loaf. He finished what there was of the cheese; and, as there was some cream left, he had the salad-bowl passed to him, into which he sliced some large pieces of bread as though for a soup. "The gentleman is really remarkable," said Monsieur Madinier, again giving way to his admiration.
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