to make
his head ache with any more of her row. This time indeed, he seemed to
fall asleep. Gervaise, for a while, remained undecided. She was tempted
to kick the bundle of dirty clothes on one side, and to sit down and
sew. But Lantier's regular breathing ended by reassuring her. She took
the ball of blue and the piece of soap remaining from her last washing,
and going up to the little ones who were quietly playing with some old
corks in front of the window, she kissed them, and said in a low voice:

"Be very good, don't make any noise; papa's asleep."

When she left the room, Claude's and Etienne's gentle laughter alone
disturbed the great silence beneath the blackened ceiling. It was ten
o'clock. A ray of sunshine entered by the half open window.

On the Boulevard, Gervaise turned to the left, and followed the Rue
Neuve de la Goutte-d'Or. As she passed Madame Fauconnier's shop, she
slightly bowed her head. The wash-house she was bound for was situated
towards the middle of the street, at the part where the roadway
commenced to ascend.

The rounded, gray contours of the three large zinc wash tanks, studded
with rivets, rose above the flat-roofed building. Behind them was
the drying room, a high second story, closed in on all sides by
narrow-slatted lattices so that the air could circulate freely, and
through which laundry could be seen hanging on brass wires. The steam
engine's smokestack exhaled puffs of white smoke to the right of the
water tanks.

Gervaise was used to puddles and did not bother to tuck her skirts up
before making her way through the doorway, which was cluttered with jars
of bleaching water. She was already acquainted with the mistress of the
wash-house, a delicate little woman with red, inflamed eyes, who sat in
a small glazed closet with account books in front of her, bars of soap
on shelves, balls of blue in glass bowls, and pounds of soda done up
in packets; and, as she passed, she asked for her beetle and her
scouring-brush, which she had left to be taken care of the last time
she had done her washing there. Then, after obtaining her number, she
entered the wash-house.

It was an immense shed, with large clear windows, and a flat ceiling,
showing the beams supported on cast-iron pillars. Pale rays of light
passed through the hot steam, which remained suspended like a milky
fog. Smoke arose from certain corners, spreading about and covering the
recesses with a bluish veil. A heavy moistu