with no molding or ornament except the angles on the
drain pipes at each floor. Here the sink drains added their stains. The
glass window panes resembled murky water. Mattresses of checkered
blue ticking were hanging out of several windows to air. Clothes lines
stretched from other windows with family washing hanging to dry. On a
third floor line was a baby's diaper, still implanted with filth. This
crowded tenement was bursting at the seams, spilling out poverty and
misery through every crevice.

Each of the four walls had, at ground level, a narrow entrance,
plastered without a trace of woodwork. This opened into a vestibule
containing a dirt-encrusted staircase which spiraled upward. They were
each labeled with one of the first four letters of the alphabet painted
on the wall.

Several large work-shops with weather-blackened skylights were scattered
about the court. Near the concierge's room was the dyeing establishment
responsible for the pink streamlet. Puddles of water infested the
courtyard, along with wood shavings and coal cinders. Grass and weeds
grew between the paving stones. The unforgiving sunlight seemed to cut
the court into two parts. On the shady side was a dripping water tap
with three small hens scratching for worms with their filth-smeared
claws.

Gervaise slowly gazed about, lowering her glance from the sixth floor
to the paving stones, then raising it again, surprised at the vastness,
feeling as it were in the midst of a living organ, in the very heart of
a city, and interested in the house, as though it were a giant before
her.

"Is madame seeking for any one?" called out the inquisitive concierge,
emerging from her room.

The young woman explained that she was waiting for a friend. She
returned to the street; then as Coupeau did not come, she went back to
the courtyard seized with the desire to take another look. She did not
think the house ugly. Amongst the rags hanging from the windows she
discovered various cheerful touches--a wall-flower blooming in a pot, a
cage of chirruping canaries, shaving-glasses shining like stars in
the depth of the shadow. A carpenter was singing in his work-shop,
accompanied by the whining of his plane. The blacksmith's hammers were
ringing rhythmically.

In contrast to the apparent wretched poverty, at nearly every open
window appeared the begrimed faces of laughing children. Women with
peaceful faces could be seen bent over their sewing. The rooms were
e