companied her. At first they merely made the round of the
room, looking at the drabs who were jumping about. But one evening, as
they had some coin, they sat down and ordered a large bowl of hot wine
in view of regaling themselves and waiting to see if Nana would turn up.
At the end of a month or so they had practically forgotten her, but
they frequented the halls for their own pleasure, liking to look at the
dancers. They would remain for hours without exchanging a word, resting
their elbows on the table, stultified amidst the quaking of the floor,
and yet no doubt amusing themselves as they stared with pale eyes at the
Barriere women in the stifling atmosphere and ruddy glow of the hall.

It happened one November evening that they went into the "Grand Hall of
Folly" to warm themselves. Out of doors a sharp wind cut you across the
face. But the hall was crammed. There was a thundering big swarm inside;
people at all the tables, people in the middle, people up above,
quite an amount of flesh. Yes, those who cared for tripes could enjoy
themselves. When they had made the round twice without finding a vacant
table, they decided to remain standing and wait till somebody went off.
Coupeau was teetering on his legs, in a dirty blouse, with an old
cloth cap which had lost its peak flattened down on his head. And as
he blocked the way, he saw a scraggy young fellow who was wiping his
coat-sleeve after elbowing him.

"Say!" cried Coupeau in a fury, as he took his pipe out of his black
mouth. "Can't you apologize? And you play the disgusted one? Just
because a fellow wears a blouse!"

The young man turned round and looked at the zinc-worker from head to
foot.

"I'll just teach you, you scraggy young scamp," continued Coupeau, "that
the blouse is the finest garment out; yes! the garment of work. I'll
wipe you if you like with my fists. Did one ever hear of such a thing--a
ne'er-do-well insulting a workman!"

Gervaise tried to calm him, but in vain. He drew himself up in his rags,
in full view, and struck his blouse, roaring: "There's a man's chest
under that!"

Thereupon the young man dived into the midst of the crowd, muttering:
"What a dirty blackguard!"

Coupeau wanted to follow and catch him. He wasn't going to let himself
be insulted by a fellow with a coat on. Probably it wasn't even paid
for! Some second-hand toggery to impress a girl with, without having to
fork out a centime. If he caught the chap again, he'd bri