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Updated: June 6, 2025
She listened to what the physicians were saying: the house surgeon was giving the details of the night with many words which she did not understand, but she gathered that Coupeau had gone on in the same way all night. Finally he said this was the wife of the patient. Wherefore the surgeon in chief turned and interrogated her with the air of a police judge. "Did this man's father drink?"
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.
What can it matter to you? I've got money. He's my husband, isn't he? He's mine, and I want him at home." And they had to take Coupeau to his own home. When the stretcher was carried through the crowd which was crushing up against the chemist's shop, the women of the neighborhood were excitedly talking of Gervaise. She limped, the dolt, but all the same she had some pluck.
Coupeau, in a gray blouse, was quarreling with someone, and Poisson, who was not on duty that day, was listening quietly, his red mustache and imperial giving him, however, quite a formidable aspect. Goujet left the women outside and, going in, placed his hand on Coupeau's shoulder, who, when he saw his wife and Virginie, fell into a great rage. No, he would not move!
"That, my dear," answered her husband, "is Father Colombe's own especial brew. Taste it." And when a glass of the vitriol was brought to her Coupeau bade her swallow it down, saying it was good for her. After she had drunk this glass Gervaise was no longer conscious of the hunger that had tormented her.
The wedding party signed another registry, this time in the sacristy, and then found themselves out in the bright sunlight before the church doors where they stood for a moment, breathless and confused from having been carried along at such a break-neck speed. "Voila!" said Coupeau with an embarrassed laugh. "Well, it sure didn't take long.
Coupeau explained that they were not to wait for My-Boots; his comrade would join the party on the Route de Saint-Denis. "Well!" exclaimed Madame Lerat as she entered, "it'll pour in torrents soon! That'll be pleasant!" And she called everyone to the door of the wineshop to see the clouds as black as ink which were rising rapidly to the south of Paris.
Virginie followed, all three bareheaded. Everyone looked at them, so gay and fresh on a week-day. Virginie in her pink muslin and Gervaise in a white cambric with blue spots and a gray silk handkerchief knotted round her throat. They went to one wineshop after another, but no Coupeau. Suddenly, as they went toward the boulevard, his wife uttered an exclamation. "What is the matter?" asked Goujet.
Then seated near the window, always wearing a frock coat, fresh linen and carefully shaved, he kept up a conversation like a man who had seen something of the world. By degrees Coupeau learned something of his life.
Ah! you certainly owe us that!" The workwomen had left long ago. Mother Coupeau and Nana had just gone to bed. Gervaise, who had been just about to put up the shutters when they appeared, left the shop open and brought some glasses which she placed on a corner of the work-table with what was left of a bottle of brandy. Lantier remained standing and avoided speaking directly to her.
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