ned her; it rendered her deaf beforehand; it
filled her with a buzzing amidst which she could only distinguish the
sound of her heart beating violently. So, as soon as these fears
seized upon her, the forge was her only shelter; there, under Goujet's
protection, she once more became easy and smiling, as his sonorous
hammer drove away her disagreeable reflections.

What a happy time! The laundress took particular pains with the washing
of her customer in the Rue des Portes-Blanches; she always took it
home herself because that errand, every Friday, was a ready excuse for
passing through the Rue Marcadet and looking in at the forge. The moment
she turned the corner of the street she felt light and gay, as though in
the midst of those plots of waste land surrounded by grey factories, she
were out in the country; the roadway black with coal-dust, the plumage
of steam over the roofs, amused her as much as a moss-covered path
leading through masses of green foliage in a wood in the environs; and
she loved the dull horizon, streaked by the tall factory-chimneys, the
Montmartre heights, which hid the heavens from view, the chalky white
houses pierced with the uniform openings of their windows. She would
slacken her steps as she drew near, jumping over the pools of water, and
finding a pleasure in traversing the deserted ins and outs of the yard
full of old building materials. Right at the further end the forge shone
with a brilliant light, even at mid-day. Her heart leapt with the dance
of the hammers. When she entered, her face turned quite red, the little
fair hairs at the nape of her neck flew about like those of a woman
arriving at some lovers' meeting. Goujet was expecting her, his arms and
chest bare, whilst he hammered harder on the anvil on those days so
as to make himself heard at a distance. He divined her presence, and
greeted her with a good silent laugh in his yellow beard. But she would
not let him leave off his work; she begged him to take up his hammer
again, because she loved him the more when he wielded it with his big
arms swollen with muscles. She would go and give Etienne a gentle tap
on the cheek, as he hung on to the bellows, and then remain for an hour
watching the rivets.

The two did not exchange a dozen words. They could not have more
completely satisfied their love if alone in a room with the
door double-locked. The snickering of Salted-Mouth, otherwise
Drink-without-Thirst, did not bother them in t