unded loud in the quiet. Gervaise felt that the building was
threatening to suffocate her and a chill went through her body. It was a
childish fear and she smiled at it a moment later.

"Watch your step," warned Coupeau.

To get to the entrance, Gervaise had to jump over a wide puddle that had
drained from the dye shop. The puddle was blue now, the deep blue of
a summer sky. The reflections from the night light of the concierge
sparkled in it like stars.

CHAPTER III.

Gervaise did not want to have a wedding-party! What was the use of
spending money? Besides, she still felt somewhat ashamed; it seemed
to her quite unnecessary to parade the marriage before the whole
neighborhood. But Coupeau cried out at that. One could not be married
without having a feed. He did not care a button for the people of the
neighborhood! Nothing elaborate, just a short walk and a rabbit ragout
in the first eating-house they fancied. No music with dessert. Just a
glass or two and then back home.

The zinc-worker, chaffing and joking, at length got the young woman to
consent by promising her that there should be no larks. He would keep
his eye on the glasses, to prevent sunstrokes. Then he organized a
sort of picnic at five francs a head, at the "Silver Windmill," kept
by Auguste, on the Boulevard de la Chapelle. It was a small cafe with
moderate charges and had a dancing place in the rear, beneath the three
acacias in the courtyard. They would be very comfortable on the first
floor. During the next ten days, he got hold of guests in the house
where his sister lived in the Rue de la Goutte-d'Or--Monsieur Madinier,
Mademoiselle Remanjou, Madame Gaudron and her husband. He even ended
by getting Gervaise to consent to the presence of two of his
comrades--Bibi-the-Smoker and My-Boots. No doubt My-Boots was a boozer;
but then he had such a fantastic appetite that he was always asked to
join those sort of gatherings, just for the sight of the caterer's
mug when he beheld that bottomless pit swallowing his twelve pounds
of bread. The young woman on her side, promised to bring her employer
Madame Fauconnier and the Boches, some very agreeable people. On
counting, they found there would be fifteen to sit down to table,
which was quite enough. When there are too many, they always wind up by
quarrelling.

Coupeau however, had no money. Without wishing to show off, he intended
to behave handsomely. He borrowed fifty francs of his employer. Out