to Madame Fauconnier's coffee, which was
like ditch-water. Only whenever mother Coupeau undertook to make it, it
was always an interminable time before it was ready, because she would
fall asleep over the kettle. On these occasions, when the workwomen had
finished their lunch, they would do a little ironing whilst waiting for
the coffee.

It so happened that on the morrow of Twelfth-day half-past twelve struck
and still the coffee was not ready. It seemed to persist in declining to
pass through the strainer. Mother Coupeau tapped against the pot with a
tea-spoon; and one could hear the drops falling slowly, one by one, and
without hurrying themselves any the more.

"Leave it alone," said tall Clemence; "you'll make it thick. To-day
there'll be as much to eat as to drink."

Tall Clemence was working on a man's shirt, the plaits of which she
separated with her finger-nail. She had caught a cold, her eyes were
frightfully swollen and her chest was shaken with fits of coughing,
which doubled her up beside the work-table. With all that she had not
even a handkerchief round her neck and she was dressed in some cheap
flimsy woolen stuff in which she shivered. Close by, Madame Putois,
wrapped up in flannel muffled up to her ears, was ironing a petticoat
which she turned round the skirt-board, the narrow end of which rested
on the back of a chair; whilst a sheet laid on the floor prevented the
petticoat from getting dirty as it trailed along the tiles. Gervaise
alone occupied half the work-table with some embroidered muslin
curtains, over which she passed her iron in a straight line with her
arms stretched out to avoid making any creases. All on a sudden the
coffee running through noisily caused her to raise her head. It was that
squint-eyed Augustine who had just given it an outlet by thrusting a
spoon through the strainer.

"Leave it alone!" cried Gervaise. "Whatever is the matter with you?
It'll be like drinking mud now."

Mother Coupeau had placed five glasses on a corner of the work-table
that was free. The women now left their work. The mistress always poured
out the coffee herself after putting two lumps of sugar into each glass.
It was the moment that they all looked forward to. On this occasion, as
each one took her glass and squatted down on a little stool in front of
the stove, the shop-door opened. Virginie entered, shivering all over.

"Ah, my children," said she, "it cuts you in two! I can no longer feel
my