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"Ah, the rogue!" resumed the zinc-worker, choking with laughter, banging his fist down on the table, "he's always thinking of something smutty! But, you joker, we're of an inventive turn of mind! There're two windows in the room, aren't there? Well, we'll knock one out and turn it into a door.
Suddenly Coupeau appeared to become angry again, whilst the other was refusing something and required to be pressed. And it was the zinc-worker who pushed Lantier along and who forced him to cross the street and enter the shop. "I tell you, you're quite welcome!" shouted he. "You'll take a glass of wine. Men are men, you know. We ought to understand each other."
She forbade Gervaise to do any talking; it was bad enough there was so much noise around her. Then the zinc-worker said that he must tell the news to mother Coupeau and the Lorilleuxs, but he was dying with hunger, he must first of all have his dinner.
She at last left off attending the workshop and when the zinc-worker gave her a hiding, she declared she would not return to Titreville's again, for she was always placed next to Augustine, who must have swallowed her feet to have such a foul breath.
The hatter!" yelled Coupeau. And the house surgeon questioning Gervaise, the latter stuttered without being able to answer, for this scene stirred up within her all the worries of her life. The zinc-worker thrust out his fists. "We'll settle this between us, my lad. It's full time I did for you! Ah, you coolly come, with that virago on your arm, to make a fool of me before everyone. Well!
Still, when Coupeau left her in front of Madame Fauconnier's shop, he was allowed to hold her hand for a moment. For a month the young woman and the zinc-worker were the best of friends. He admired her courage, when he beheld her half killing herself with work, keeping her children tidy and clean, and yet finding time at night to do a little sewing.
Nana herself was beginning to get hold of some very bad expressions in the midst of the filthy conversations she was continually hearing. On the days when there was a row, she would often call her mother an old camel and a cow. "Where's my food?" yelled the zinc-worker. "I want my soup, you couple of jades! There's females for you, always thinking of finery!
His comrades did not even notice his departure. He had already had a pretty good dose. But once outside he shook himself and regained his self-possession; and he quietly made for the shop, where he told Gervaise that Coupeau was with some friends. Two days passed by. The zinc-worker had not returned. He was reeling about the neighborhood, but no one knew exactly where.
Then, excited and annoyed at seeing Coupeau with his bag slung over his shoulder, he continued speaking to the zinc-worker: "You look like a wet-nurse. Drop your brat. It'll give you a hump-back." Coupeau hesitated an instant; and then, quietly, as though he had only made up his mind after considerable reflection, he laid his bag on the ground saying: "It's too late now.
And suddenly, the zinc-worker, already overdosed with liquor, flew into a passion, his emotion turned to fury. "Listen," cried he, poking his nose in his wife's face; "I intend that you shall listen to me! Your confounded head will always have its own way. But, this time, I intend to have mine, I warn you!"
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