once more do him the sorry service of putting him on his
pins again. Had she not heard that very morning that for the week before
Coupeau had been seen as round as a ball, rolling about Belleville from
one dram shop to another in the company of My-Boots. Exactly so; and
it was My-Boots, too, who stood treat. He must have hooked his missus's
stocking with all the savings gained at very hard work. It wasn't clean
money they had used, but money that could infect them with any manner
of vile diseases. Well, anyway, they hadn't thought to invite her for a
drink. If you wanted to drink by yourself, you could croak by yourself.

However, on Monday, as Gervaise had a nice little meal planned for the
evening, the remains of some beans and a pint of wine, she pretended
to herself that a walk would give her an appetite. The letter from the
asylum which she had left lying on the bureau bothered her. The snow
had melted, the day was mild and grey and on the whole fine, with just a
slight keenness in the air which was invigorating. She started at noon,
for her walk was a long one. She had to cross Paris and her bad leg
always slowed her. With that the streets were crowded; but the people
amused her; she reached her destination very pleasantly. When she had
given her name, she was told a most astounding story to the effect that
Coupeau had been fished out of the Seine close to the Pont-Neuf. He had
jumped over the parapet, under the impression that a bearded man was
barring his way. A fine jump, was it not? And as for finding out how
Coupeau got to be on the Pont-Neuf, that was a matter he could not even
explain himself.

One of the keepers escorted Gervaise. She was ascending a staircase,
when she heard howlings which made her shiver to her very bones.

"He's playing a nice music, isn't he?" observed the keeper.

"Who is?" asked she.

"Why, your old man! He's been yelling like that ever since the day
before yesterday; and he dances, you'll just see."

_Mon Dieu!_ what a sight! She stood as one transfixed. The cell was
padded from the floor to the ceiling. On the floor there were two straw
mats, one piled on top of the other; and in a corner were spread a
mattress and a bolster, nothing more. Inside there Coupeau was dancing
and yelling, his blouse in tatters and his limbs beating the air.
He wore the mask of one about to die. What a breakdown! He bumped up
against the window, then retired backwards, beating time with his arms