It was a disgusting place and they
dreamed of a home of their own. Then there came a piece of good luck.
Claude was taken off their hands by an old gentleman who had been struck
by some of his sketches. Eight months later they were able to furnish a
room and a kitchen in a house nearly facing Madame Fauconnier's. There,
soon after, Nana was born. They had two good friends in Jean Goujet, a
blacksmith, and his mother. They went out nearly every Sunday with the
Goujes.

_III.--Starting on the Down Road_

No great change took place in their affairs until one day Coupeau fell
from the roof of a house and was laid up for three months. Lying idle so
long he lost the habit of work, and as he grew stronger again, he wasted
his time and Gervaise's earnings in drinking shops. But he slapped his
chest as he boasted that he never drank anything but wine, always wine,
never brandy. Money grew scarcer and Gervaise's one ambition--a laundry
of her own--seemed to fade away. But the Goujets came to her aid, and
lent her five hundred francs to begin business with. Engaging three
assistants, Gervaise was able, with her industry and beautiful work and
her cheerful face and manner, to obtain plenty of custom and to lay up
money again.

Never before had Gervaise shown so much complaisance. She was as quiet
as a lamb and as good as bread. In her slight gluttonous forgetfulness,
when she had lunched well and taken her coffee, she yielded to the
necessity for a general indulgence all round. Her common saying was "One
must forgive one another if one does not wish to live like savages."
When people talked of her kindness she laughed. It would never have
suited her to have been cruel. She protested, she said, no merit was due
to her for being kind. Had not all her dreams been realised? Had she any
other ambition in life?

It was to Coupeau especially that Gervaise behaved so well. Never an
angry word, never a complaint behind her husband's back. The zinc-worker
had at last resumed work, and as his employment was at the other side of
Paris, she gave him every morning forty sous for his luncheon, his drink
and his tobacco. Only two days out of every six Coupeau would stop on
the way, drink the forty sous with a friend, and return home to lunch
with some grand story or other. Once even he did not take the trouble to
go far, he treated himself and four others to a regular feast at the
"Capuchin," on the Barriere de la Chapelle. Then, as his f