for not having cleaned her iron, blamed Augustine,
swearing that it wasn't hers, in spite of the spot of burned starch
still clinging to the bottom. The apprentice, outraged at the injustice,
openly spat on the front of Clemence's dress, earning a slap for her
boldness. Now, as Augustine went about cleaning the iron, she saved up
her spit and each time she passed Clemence spat on her back and laughed
to herself.

Gervaise continued with the lace of Madame Boche's cap. In the sudden
calm which ensued, one could hear Coupeau's husky voice issuing from the
depths of the bedroom. He was still jolly, and was laughing to himself
as he uttered bits of phrases.

"How stupid she is, my wife! How stupid of her to put me to bed! Really,
it's too absurd, in the middle of the day, when one isn't sleepy."

But, all on a sudden, he snored. Then Gervaise gave a sigh of relief,
happy in knowing that he was at length quiet, and sleeping off his
intoxication on two good mattresses. And she spoke out in the silence,
in a slow and continuous voice, without taking her eyes off her work.

"You see, he hasn't his reason, one can't be angry. Were I to be harsh
with him, it would be of no use. I prefer to agree with him and get him
to bed; then, at least, it's over at once and I'm quiet. Besides, he
isn't ill-natured, he loves me very much. You could see that just a
moment ago when he was desperate to give me a kiss. That's quite nice of
him. There are plenty of men, you know, who after drinking a bit don't
come straight home but stay out chasing women. Oh, he may fool around
with the women in the shop, but it doesn't lead to anything. Clemence,
you mustn't feel insulted. You know how it is when a man's had too much
to drink. He could do anything and not even remember it."

She spoke composedly, not at all angry, being quite used to Coupeau's
sprees and not holding them against him. A silence settled down for a
while when she stopped talking. There was a lot of work to get done.
They figured they would have to keep at it until eleven, working as fast
as they could. Now that they were undisturbed, all of them were pounding
away. Bare arms were moving back and forth, showing glimpses of pink
among the whiteness of the laundry.

More coke had been put into the stove and the sunlight slanted in
between the sheets onto the stove. You could see the heat rising up
through the rays of the sun. It became so stifling that Augustine ran
out of spit a