y were sitting down to the funeral meal the landlord presented
himself, looking very grave, and wearing a broad decoration on his frock
coat. He bowed in silence, and went straight to the little room, where
he knelt down. He was very pious; he prayed in the accustomed manner of
a priest, then made the sign of the cross in the air, whilst he
sprinkled the body with the sprig of box. All the family leaving the
table, stood up, greatly moved. Mr. Marescot, having ended his
devotions, passed into the shop and said to the Coupeaus, "I have called
for the two quarters' rent which remain unpaid. Can you give it me?"
"No, sir, not quite," stammered Gervaise. "You will understand, with the
misfortune which has--"
"No doubt, but everyone has his troubles," resumed the landlord,
spreading out his immense fingers. "I am very sorry, but I cannot wait
any longer. If I am not paid by the morning after to-morrow, I shall be
forced to have recourse to expulsion."
Gervaise, struck dumb, imploringly clasped her hands, her eyes full of
tears. With an energetic shake of his big bony head, he gave her to
understand that all supplications were useless. Besides, the respect due
to the dead forbade all discussion. He discreetly retired, walking
backwards.
Gervaise was persuaded by the jealous Lorilleux to resign the lease of
her shop to Virginie and her husband. That evening when Gervaise found
herself at home again after the funeral she continued in a stupefied
state on a chair. It seemed to her that the rooms were very large and
deserted. Really, it would be a good riddance. But it was certainly not
only mother Coupeau that she missed. She missed, too, many other things,
very likely a part of her life, and her shop, and her pride of being an
employer, and other sentiments besides, which she had buried on that
day. Yes, the walls were bare, and her heart also; it was an absolute
deplenishment, a tumble into the pit.
It was the beginning of the end. She got employment with her old
employer, Madame Fauconnier, but presently she began to be looked upon
with disfavour. She was not nearly so expert; she did her work so
clumsily that the mistress had reduced her wages to forty sous a day,
the price paid to the stupidest. With all that she was very proud and
very susceptible, throwing at everybody's head her former position of a
person in business. Some days she never appeared at all, whilst on
others she would leave in the midst of her wor
|