thing; and then she
herself helped them to some chicken, a little of the breast. But mother
Coupeau said they might, just for once in a while, risk an attack of
indigestion. Madame Boche, in a low voice accused Boche of caressing
Madame Lerat's knees. Oh, he was a sly one, but he was getting a little
too gay. She had certainly seen his hand disappear. If he did it again,
drat him! She wouldn't hesitate throwing a pitcher of water over his
head.

In the partial silence, Monsieur Madinier was talking politics. "Their
law of May 31, is an abominable one. Now you must reside in a place for
two years. Three millions of citizens are struck off the voting lists.
I've been told that Bonaparte is, in reality, very much annoyed for he
loves the people; he has given them proofs."

He was a republican; but he admired the prince on account of his uncle,
a man the like of whom would never be seen again. Bibi-the-Smoker flew
into a passion. He had worked at the Elysee; he had seen Bonaparte
just as he saw My-Boots in front of him over there. Well that muff of a
president was just like a jackass, that was all! It was said that he was
going to travel about in the direction of Lyons; it would be a precious
good riddance of bad rubbish if he fell into some hole and broke his
neck. But, as the discussion was becoming too heated, Coupeau had to
interfere.

"Ah, well! How simple you all are to quarrel about politics. Politics
are all humbug! Do such things exist for us? Let there be any one as
king, it won't prevent me earning my five francs a day, and eating and
sleeping; isn't that so? No, it's too stupid to argue about!"

Lorilleux shook his head. He was born on the same day as the Count of
Chambord, the 29th of September, 1820. He was greatly struck with this
coincidence, indulging himself in a vague dream, in which he established
a connection between the king's return to France and his own private
fortunes. He never said exactly what he was expecting, but he led
people to suppose that when that time arrived something extraordinarily
agreeable would happen to him. So whenever he had a wish too great to be
gratified, he would put it off to another time, when the king came back.

"Besides," observed he, "I saw the Count de Chambord one evening."

Every face was turned towards him.

"It's quite true. A stout man, in an overcoat, and with a good-natured
air. I was at Pequignot's, one of my friends who deals in furniture in
the Grand