e sky,
the silhouettes of the two workmen, looking inordinately large, with the
dark line of the bench, and the strange profile of the bellows, stood
out from the limpid back-ground of the atmosphere.

When the chimney-top was got into shape, Coupeau called out: "Zidore!
The irons!"

But Zidore had disappeared. The zinc-worker swore, and looked about for
him, even calling him through the open skylight of the loft. At length
he discovered him on a neighboring roof, two houses off. The young rogue
was taking a walk, exploring the environs, his fair scanty locks blowing
in the breeze, his eyes blinking as they beheld the immensity of Paris.

"I say, lazy bones! Do you think you're having a day in the country?"
asked Coupeau, in a rage. "You're like Monsieur Beranger, composing
verses, perhaps! Will you give me those irons! Did any one ever see
such a thing! Strolling about on the house-tops! Why not bring your
sweetheart at once, and tell her of your love? Will you give me those
irons? You confounded little shirker!"

He finished his soldering, and called to Gervaise: "There, it's done.
I'm coming down."

The chimney-pot to which he had to fix the flue was in the middle of
the roof. Gervaise, who was no longer uneasy, continued to smile as she
followed his movements. Nana, amused all on a sudden by the view of her
father, clapped her little hands. She had seated herself on the pavement
to see the better up there.

"Papa! Papa!" called she with all her might. "Papa! Just look!"

The zinc-worker wished to lean forward, but his foot slipped. Then
suddenly, stupidly, like a cat with its legs entangled, he rolled and
descended the slight slope of the roof without being able to grab hold
of anything.

"_Mon Dieu_," he cried in a choked voice.

And he fell. His body described a gentle curve, turned twice over on
itself, and came smashing into the middle of the street with the dull
thud of a bundle of clothes thrown from on high.

Gervaise, stupefied, her throat rent by one great cry, stood holding
up her arms. Some passers-by hastened to the spot; a crowd soon formed.
Madame Boche, utterly upset, her knees bending under her, took Nana in
her arms, to hide her head and prevent her seeing. Meanwhile, the little
old woman opposite quietly closed her window, as though satisfied.

Four men ended by carrying Coupeau into a chemist's, at the corner of
the Rue des Poissonniers; and he remained there on a blanket, in the
mid