bearing inculcated by her confessor, she said, clinching her
teeth: "Pig!"

As soon as the zinc-worker had had his soup he went off to sleep. On
the morrow he awoke in a very good humor. He still felt a little of the
booze of the day before but only just sufficient to make him amiable.
He assisted at the dressing of the child, deeply affected by the white
dress and finding that a mere nothing gave the little vermin quite the
look of a young lady.

The two families started off together for the church. Nana and Pauline
walked first, their prayer-books in their hands and holding down their
veils on account of the wind; they did not speak but were bursting
with delight at seeing people come to their shop-doors, and they smiled
primly and devoutly every time they heard anyone say as they passed that
they looked very nice. Madame Boche and Madame Lorilleux lagged behind,
because they were interchanging their ideas about Clump-clump, a
gobble-all, whose daughter would never have been confirmed if the
relations had not found everything for her; yes, everything, even a new
chemise, out of respect for the holy altar. Madame Lorilleux was rather
concerned about the dress, calling Nana a dirty thing every time the
child got dust on her skirt by brushing against the store fronts.

At church Coupeau wept all the time. It was stupid but he could not help
it. It affected him to see the priest holding out his arms and all
the little girls, looking like angels, pass before him, clasping
their hands; and the music of the organ stirred up his stomach and the
pleasant smell of the incense forced him to sniff, the same as though
someone had thrust a bouquet of flowers into his face. In short he saw
everything cerulean, his heart was touched. Anyway, other sensitive
souls around him were wetting their handkerchiefs. This was a beautiful
day, the most beautiful of his life. After leaving the church, Coupeau
went for a drink with Lorilleux, who had remained dry-eyed.

That evening the Poissons' house-warming was very lively. Friendship
reigned without a hitch from one end of the feast to the other. When bad
times arrive one thus comes in for some pleasant evenings, hours during
which sworn enemies love each other. Lantier, with Gervaise on his left
and Virginie on his right, was most amiable to both of them,
lavishing little tender caresses like a cock who desires peace in his
poultry-yard. But the queens of the feast were the two little on