fore had she thus dragged herself at a man's feet.
Old Bazouge's ugly mug, with his mouth all on one side and his hide
begrimed with the dust of funerals, seemed to her as beautiful and
resplendent as a sun. The old fellow, who was scarcely awake thought,
however, that it was some sort of bad joke.

"Look here," murmured he, "no jokes!"

"Take me away," repeated Gervaise more ardently still. "You remember,
I knocked one evening against the partition; then I said that it wasn't
true, because I was still a fool. But see! Give me your hands. I'm no
longer frightened. Take me away to by-by; you'll see how still I'll be.
Oh! sleep, that's all I care for. Oh! I'll love you so much!"

Bazouge, ever gallant, thought that he ought not to be hasty with a
lady who appeared to have taken such a fancy to him. She was falling to
pieces, but all the same, what remained was very fine, especially when
she was excited.

"What you say is very true," said he in a convinced manner. "I packed
up three more to-day who would only have been too glad to have given
me something for myself, could they but have got their hands to their
pockets. But, little woman, it's not so easily settled as all that--"

"Take me away, take me away," continued Gervaise, "I want to die."

"Ah! but there's a little operation to be gone through beforehand--you
know, glug!"

And he made a noise in his throat, as though swallowing his tongue.
Then, thinking it a good joke, he chuckled.

Gervaise slowly rose to her feet. So he too could do nothing for her.
She went to her room and threw herself on her straw, feeling stupid,
and regretting she had eaten. Ah! no indeed, misery did not kill quickly
enough.

CHAPTER XIII

That night Coupeau went on a spree. Next day, Gervaise received ten
francs from her son Etienne, who was a mechanic on some railway. The
youngster sent her a few francs from time to time, knowing that they
were not very well off at home. She made some soup, and ate it all
alone, for that scoundrel Coupeau did not return on the morrow. On
Monday he was still absent, and on Tuesday also. The whole week went by.
Ah, it would be good luck if some woman took him in.

On Sunday Gervaise received a printed document. It was to inform her
that her husband was dying at the Sainte-Anne asylum.

Gervaise did not disturb herself. He knew the way; he could very well
get home from the asylum by himself. They had cured him there so often
that they could