r as the "Galette Windmill"
they had a stewed rabbit. The "Lilacs," in the Rue des Martyrs, had a
reputation for their calf's head, whilst the restaurant of the "Golden
Lion" and the "Two Chestnut Trees," in the Chaussee Clignancourt, served
them stewed kidneys which made them lick their lips. Usually they went
toward Belleville where they had tables reserved for them at some places
of such excellent repute that you could order anything with your eyes
closed. These eating sprees were always surreptitious and the next day
they would refer to them indirectly while playing with the potatoes
served by Gervaise. Once Lantier brought a woman with him to the
"Galette Windmill" and Coupeau left immediately after dessert.

One naturally cannot both guzzle and work; so that ever since the hatter
was made one of the family, the zinc-worker, who was already pretty
lazy, had got to the point of never touching a tool. When tired of doing
nothing, he sometimes let himself be prevailed upon to take a job. Then
his comrade would look him up and chaff him unmercifully when he found
him hanging to his knotty cord like a smoked ham, and he would call
to him to come down and have a glass of wine. And that settled it. The
zinc-worker would send the job to blazes and commence a booze which
lasted days and weeks. Oh, it was a famous booze--a general review of
all the dram shops of the neighborhood, the intoxication of the morning
slept off by midday and renewed in the evening; the goes of "vitriol"
succeeded one another, becoming lost in the depths of the night,
like the Venetian lanterns of an illumination, until the last candle
disappeared with the last glass! That rogue of a hatter never kept on
to the end. He let the other get elevated, then gave him the slip and
returned home smiling in his pleasant way. He could drink a great deal
without people noticing it. When one got to know him well one could only
tell it by his half-closed eyes and his overbold behavior to women.
The zinc-worker, on the contrary, became quite disgusting, and could no
longer drink without putting himself into a beastly state.

Thus, towards the beginning of November, Coupeau went in for a booze
which ended in a most dirty manner, both for himself and the others. The
day before he had been offered a job. This time Lantier was full of fine
sentiments; he lauded work, because work ennobles a man. In the morning
he even rose before it was light, for he gravely wished to