ic, even
though it was very sad.

Gervaise got up in the middle of the room and did an imitation of
Coupeau. Yes, that's just how it was. Can anyone feature a man doing
that for hours on end? If they didn't believe they could go see for
themselves.

On getting up the next morning, Gervaise promised herself she would not
return to the Sainte-Anne again. What use would it be? She did not want
to go off her head also. However, every ten minutes, she fell to musing
and became absent-minded. It would be curious though, if he were still
throwing his legs about. When twelve o'clock struck, she could no longer
resist; she started off and did not notice how long the walk was, her
brain was so full of her desire to go and the dread of what awaited her.

Oh! there was no need for her to ask for news. She heard Coupeau's song
the moment she reached the foot of the staircase. Just the same tune,
just the same dance. She might have thought herself going up again after
having only been down for a minute. The attendant of the day before, who
was carrying some jugs of tisane along the corridor, winked his eye as
he met her, by way of being amiable.

"Still the same, then?" said she.

"Oh! still the same!" he replied without stopping.

She entered the room, but she remained near the door, because there were
some people with Coupeau. The fair, rosy house surgeon was standing up,
having given his chair to a bald old gentleman who was decorated and had
a pointed face like a weasel. He was no doubt the head doctor, for his
glance was as sharp and piercing as a gimlet. All the dealers in sudden
death have a glance like that.

No, really, it was not a pretty sight; and Gervaise, all in a tremble,
asked herself why she had returned. To think that the evening before
they accused her at the Boches' of exaggerating the picture! Now she saw
better how Coupeau set about it, his eyes wide open looking into space,
and she would never forget it. She overheard a few words between the
house surgeon and the head doctor. The former was giving some details
of the night: her husband had talked and thrown himself about, that was
what it amounted to. Then the bald-headed old gentleman, who was not
very polite by the way, at length appeared to become aware of her
presence; and when the house surgeon had informed him that she was
the patient's wife, he began to question her in the harsh manner of a
commissary of the police.

"Did this man's father drin