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Updated: May 17, 2025
Honor bright, you might still catch enough fish in 'em for a meal." The others wriggled with laughter. That animal My-Boots was just a bit on; he had certainly already stowed away his two quarts of wine, merely to prevent his being bothered by all that frog's liquor with which the storm had deluged his limbs. "Hallo!
Ah! a fine night to kick the bucket, this dirty night which was falling over her shoulders! She was walking heavily up the Rue des Poissonniers when she suddenly heard Coupeau's voice. Yes, he was there in the Little Civet, letting My-Boots treat him.
"Those who're thirsty are thirsty, and those who aren't thirsty aren't thirsty," remarked My-Boots. "Therefore, we'll order the punch. No one need take offence. The aristocrats can drink sugar-and-water." And as the zinc-worker commenced another sermon, the other, who had risen on his legs, gave himself a slap, exclaiming: "Come, let's have no more of that, my boy!
The drinking groups crowded close to one another. Some groups, by the casks, had to wait a quarter of an hour before being able to order their drinks of Pere Colombe. "Hallo! It's that aristocrat, Young Cassis!" cried My-Boots, bringing his hand down roughly on Coupeau's shoulder. "A fine gentleman, who smokes paper, and wears shirts!
My-Boots, accompanied by his two comrades, came to lean on the railing until they could get a place at the bar. He laughed, looking at the machine. Tonnerre de Dieu, that's clever. There's enough stuff in its big belly to last for weeks. He wouldn't mind if they just fixed the end of the tube in his mouth, so he could feel the fiery spirits flowing down to his heels like a river.
And so Coupeau squinted admiringly at My-Boots. Why, the lucky dog even had a gold ring on his little finger! Gervaise touched Coupeau on the shoulder just as he was coming out of the little Civet. "Say, I'm waiting; I'm hungry! I've got an empty stomach which is all I ever get from you." But he silenced her in a capital style, "You're hungry, eh?
Everywhere else one could get drink on tick! It was only in such low boozing-dens that one was insulted! The landlord remained calm, leaning his big fists on the edge of the counter. He politely said: "Lend the gentleman some money that will be far simpler." "Mon Dieu! Yes, I'll lend him some," yelled My-Boots. "Here! Bibi, throw this money in his face, the limb of Satan!"
"To blazes, you know, with all wet blankets! What'll you drink?" "Nothing, of course," replied the laundress. "I haven't dined yet." "Well! that's all the more reason for having a glass; a drop of something sustains one." But, as she still retained her glum expression, My-Boots again did the gallant. "Madame probably likes sweet things," murmured he.
He had come with My-Boots from Montrouge, where they had stuffed themselves full of eel soup, and he had received the full force of the shower all the way from the Barriere des Fourneaux to the Barriere Poissonniere, a good distance. During the night he was seized with a confounded fit of coughing. He was very flushed, suffering from a violent fever and panting like a broken bellows.
"I say, little mother, no jokes," replied My-Boots, casting a side glance at his neighbor's rotund figure. "You've swallowed more than I have." The others applauded, shouting "Bravo!" it was well answered. It was now pitch dark outside, three gas-jets were flaring in the room, diffusing dim rays in the midst of the tobacco-smoke.
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