w. And the
room was scarcely larger than one's hand. And they had to do everything
in there--eat, sleep, and all the rest. Nana's bed just squeezed into
the closet; she had to dress in her father and mother's room, and her
door was kept open at night-time so that she should not be suffocated.
There was so little space that Gervaise had left many things in the
shop for the Poissons. A bed, a table, and four chairs completely filled
their new apartment but she didn't have the courage to part with her old
bureau and so it blocked off half the window. This made the room dark
and gloomy, especially since one shutter was stuck shut. Gervaise was
now so fat that there wasn't room for her in the limited window space
and she had to lean sideways and crane her neck if she wanted to see the
courtyard.

During the first few days, the laundress would continually sit down
and cry. It seemed to her too hard, not being able to move about in
her home, after having been used to so much room. She felt stifled;
she remained at the window for hours, squeezed between the wall and
the drawers and getting a stiff neck. It was only there that she could
breathe freely. However, the courtyard inspired rather melancholy
thoughts. Opposite her, on the sunny side, she would see that same
window she had dreamed about long ago where the spring brought scarlet
vines. Her own room was on the shady side where pots of mignonette died
within a week. Oh, this wasn't at all the sort of life she had dreamed
of. She had to wallow in filth instead of having flowers all about her.

On leaning out one day, Gervaise experienced a peculiar sensation: she
fancied she beheld herself down below, near the concierge's room under
the porch, her nose in the air, and examining the house for the first
time; and this leap thirteen years backwards caused her heart to throb.
The courtyard was a little dingier and the walls more stained, otherwise
it hadn't changed much. But she herself felt terribly changed and worn.
To begin with, she was no longer below, her face raised to heaven,
feeling content and courageous and aspiring to a handsome lodging. She
was right up under the roof, among the most wretched, in the dirtiest
hole, the part that never received a ray of sunshine. And that explained
her tears; she could scarcely feel enchanted with her fate.

However, when Gervaise had grown somewhat used to it, the early days
of the little family in their new home did not pass off