like a cow
forever! That's what is good, after tiring one's self out for twenty
years! And Gervaise, as hunger twisted her stomach, thought in spite of
herself of the fete days, the spreads and the revelry of her life. Of
one occasion especially, an awfully cold day, a mid-Lent Thursday. She
had enjoyed herself wonderfully well. She was very pretty, fair-haired
and fresh looking at that time. Her wash-house in the Rue Neuve had
chosen her as queen in spite of her leg. And then they had had an outing
on the boulevards in carts decked with greenery, in the midst of stylish
people who ogled her. Real gentlemen put up their glasses as if she had
been a true queen. In the evening there was a wonderful spread, and then
they had danced till daylight. Queen; yes Queen! With a crown and a
sash for twenty-four hours--twice round the clock! And now oppressed by
hunger, she looked on the ground, as if she were seeking for the gutter
in which she had let her fallen majesty tumble.

She raised her eyes again. She was in front of the slaughter-houses
which were being pulled down; through the gaps in the facade one could
see the dark, stinking courtyards, still damp with blood. And when
she had gone down the Boulevard again, she also saw the Lariboisiere
Hospital, with its long grey wall, above which she could distinguish the
mournful, fan-like wings, pierced with windows at even distances. A door
in the wall filled the neighborhood with dread; it was the door of the
dead in solid oak, and without a crack, as stern and as silent as a
tombstone. Then to escape her thoughts, she hurried further down till
she reached the railway bridge. The high parapets of riveted sheet-iron
hid the line from view; she could only distinguish a corner of the
station standing out against the luminous horizon of Paris, with a vast
roof black with coal-dust. Through the clear space she could hear the
engines whistling and the cars being shunted, in token of colossal
hidden activity. Then a train passed by, leaving Paris, with puffing
breath and a growing rumble. And all she perceived of this train was
a white plume, a sudden gust of steam which rose above the parapet
and then evaporated. But the bridge had shaken, and she herself seemed
impressed by this departure at full speed. She turned round as if to
follow the invisible engine, the noise of which was dying away.

She caught a glimpse of open country through a gap between tall
buildings. Oh, if only sh