that was left for
her to do was to die on the pavement, and it would not take long if on
getting into her room, she could only pluck up courage to fling herself
out of the window. Was it not enough to make one think that she had
hoped to earn thirty thousand francs a year, and no end of respect? Ah!
really, in this life it is no use being modest; one only gets sat upon.
Not even pap and a nest, that is the common lot.

What increased her ugly laugh was the recollection of her grand hope of
retiring into the country after twenty years passed in ironing. Well!
she was on her way to the country. She was going to have her green
corner in the Pere-Lachaise cemetery.

When she entered the passage she was like a mad-woman. Her poor head
was whirling round. At heart her great grief was at having bid the
blacksmith an eternal farewell. All was ended between them; they would
never see each other more. Then, besides that, all her other thoughts of
misfortune pressed upon her, and almost caused her head to split. As she
passed she poked her nose in at the Bijards' and beheld Lalie dead, with
a look of contentment on her face at having at last been laid out
and slumbering forever. Ah, well! children were luckier than grown-up
people. And, as a glimmer of light passed under old Bazouge's door, she
walked boldly in, seized with a mania for going off on the same journey
as the little one.

That old joker, Bazouge, had come home that night in an extraordinary
state of gaiety. He had had such a booze that he was snoring on the
ground in spite of the temperature, and that no doubt did not prevent
him from dreaming something pleasant, for he seemed to be laughing from
his stomach as he slept. The candle, which he had not put out, lighted
up his old garments, his black cloak, which he had drawn over his knees
as though it had been a blanket.

On beholding him Gervaise uttered such a deep wailing that he awoke.

"_Mon Dieu!_ shut the door! It's so cold! Ah! it's you! What's the
matter? What do you want?"

Then, Gervaise, stretching out her arms, no longer knowing what she
stuttered, began passionately to implore him:

"Oh! take me away! I've had enough; I want to go off. You mustn't bear
me any grudge. I didn't know. One never knows until one's ready. Oh,
yes; one's glad to go one day! Take me away! Take me away and I shall
thank you!"

She fell on her knees, all shaken with a desire which caused her to turn
ghastly pale. Never be