Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 23 October 1879 — Page 2

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1 1

L'ASSOMMtpiR

&. '4 ^4v# fr #1#

hapb, at a restaurant, he would ask tor

organized a picnic at five truncs per head, jn jur

at the Moulin d'Argent, Boulevard de

Chapelle. He was a small wine mer-

Chapelle. ... chant, who had a garden back ot his Restaurant. He made cut a list. Among others appeared the names of two oi tus comrades, Bibi-la-Grillade and AlesBottes. It was true that Mes-Bottes crooked his elbow, but he was so deliciouslv funnv that he was always inviteJ to picnics. Gervaise said she, in her turn would bring her employer, Madame Fauconnier—all told there would be fifteen at the table. Thai was quiie enough.

N jw as Coupeau was literally penniless he bcrrowtd fifty francs from his empjyer. Me first bought his wedding riny, it. cost twelve francs out ot the sho°, but hi# brother in-law purchased it for hitn for nine, at the facury. lie then ordered an overcoat, pantaloon* and vest Irom a tailor, to whom he paid twenty-five francs on account, His patent leather shoes and his bolivar could last a while longer. Then he pat aside his ten irancs for the picnic, whici was what he and Gervaise must pay and they had precisely six francs remaining, the price ol a mass at the alter of the poor. He had no liking for these black frocks, and it broke his heart to give these beloved irancs to them. Bui a marriage without a mass, he had heard, was really uo marriage at all.

He went to the cnurch to bee if he could not drive a belter bargain, and tor an hoor he fought with a stout little priest in a dirty soutone who, finally declaring that God could uever bless such an uniion agreed that the mass should cost only five frame. Thus Coupeau had twenty sous in htnJ with which to begin the worjd.

Gervaise in her turn had made^ preparations, had worked late into the night and Laid aside thirty fraucs. She had set her heaitonasilk mantelette marked thirteen francs, which she had seen in a shop window. She paid for it, and bought for ten francs from the husband of a laundress, who had died in Madame Fouconnier's house, a delaine dress ot deep blue, which she made over entirely. With the aeven francs that retnainpd, she bought a rose tor her cap, a pair of white cotton gloves, and shoes for Claude. Fortunately both the boys had nice blouses. She worked for tour days mending and making there was not a hole or a rip in anything. At last the evening before the important oav arrived Gervaise and Coupeau sa together mid talked, happy that matters were so nearly concluded. Their arrangement* wen- all made. They were logo u» trie Mayor'* office—the two sisters oi Coupeau declared they should remain at tioine—-i en pie.once not being nece»sary there f'nen Mother Coupeau begun to weep—b*\ ing arte wisned to go early and hide corner—and they promised to lake tier

Tne hour fix* lot the party to assem* ble si the Moulin d'Argent was one o'clock sharp. ron. there they were to seek au appetite on the Plaine 6t. Dee is. Coupeau thought with tome anxiety of his kcantv lurid.-, lie bupptsed he Ought to offer a glass ol wire and a slice of ham to his witnes«er, while wuuing for dinner unexpected expends might arise—no—it was clear thai twenty were not enough, lie consequently, after

I FROM THE FRENCH OC \1 1

E I E O A

AUTHOR CF "HELfNEJ OR, U.VE PAGE DAMOUR," "THE ABBE'S TEMPTATION OR LA FAUTR DE L'ABBF, MOURET," ETC. ,*f

CHAPTER I.

GERVAISE.

CHAPTER III. chairs a little, out of politeness, each time one of the clerks passed them, and A MARRIAGE OF THE PHOFLK. when the magistrate appeared, they all rose respectfully. They were bidden to Gervaise did not care for any great down again, which they did, and bedding. Why should they spend their

1

taking

Claude and Etienne 10 Madame Boche, who promised io appear with them at dinner, he ran to his brother-in-law and borrowed ten francs he did it with reluctance,and the words stuck in his tnroat, for lie naif expected relusai. Lo'rillieux grumbled and grow led,but finally lent the money. Cut Coupeau heard his sister mutter under her breath, "that is a good beginning."

Tne civil marriag. w»» fixed tor halt

I

were t^e

money so foolishly. Then, too, sne teit brides in white and the bridesmaids a liitle abhamed and did not care to -$h

parade their marriage before the w'10»® Wnen their own turn came, Bibi-la-Quartier. But Coupeau objected. It Qrjna(je had disappeared, and Boche would never do not to have some festivi- bunted him up in the Square, where he ties—a little drive and some supper per- g0ne

spectators of three marriages—

atuj

were go

nothing more. He vowed that no one igo^

blue, quite fine and stylish,

8moke

ftija wrojg

a pipe. All the forms

qUickly completed that the party

at eachother

should drink too much, and finally ob« .j. ^ey had Lggn defrauded of half the tained the young woman's consent and

celemonv

in dismay, feeling as

Gervaise listened with tears

ey28j an£j

the old ladv wept audi-

bJ Th thgn turned

to the Register

their names in big, crooked

letters—all but the newly-made husband, who, not being able to write, contented himself with making a cross.

Then the clerk handed the certificate to Coupeau. He, admonished by a touch from his wife's elbow, presented him with five sous.

It was quite a long watk from the mayor's office to the church. The men stopped midway to take a glass of beer, and Gervaise and Mamma Coupeau drank some cassis with water. There was not a particle of shade, for the sun whs directly above their heads. The Biadle awaited them in the empty church, he hurried them towards a small chapel, askieg them indignantly if they were not ashamed to mock at religion by ccming so late. A priest came toward them, with an ashen face, faint with hunger, preceded by a boy in a dirty surplice. He hutried through the service, gabbling the Latin phrases, with sidelong glances at the bridal party. The bride and bridegroom knelt before the altar in considerable embarrassment, not knowing when it was necessary to kneel and when to stand, and not always understanding the gesture* made by the clerk.v

The witnesses.'thought it morq convenient to stand all the time while Mamma Coupeau, overcome by her tears again, shed them on a prayer-book, which she had bot rowed from a neighbor.

It was high ncoo. The last mass waa •aid, and the church was noisy with the movements of the sacristans who were putting the chairs in their places. The centre altar was being prepared for some fete, for the hammers were heard as the decorations were being nailed up. And, in the choking dust raised by the broom of the man who was sweeping the corner by the small altar, the Priest laid his cold withered hand on the heads of Gervaise and Coupeau with a sulky air, as if he were uniting them as a mere matter of business, or to occupy the time between masses.

When the signatures were again affixed to the Register in the vestry, and the party stcod outside in the sunshine, they had a sensation as if they had been driven at full ppeed and were' glad to rest. "I feel as if we had been at the dent ist's. We had no time to cry out before it was all oyer!" "Yes," muttered Lorilleux, ''they take less than five minutes to do what can't undone in all one's life! Poor CadetCassis!"

Gervaise kiseed her new mother with tears in her eyes, but Mth smiling lips. She answered the old woman gently: "Do not be afraid. I will do my best to make him happy- If things turn out

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*ic vivii mat tag. ».ww iv» niM* one wurc (iciuiic yuwu, cvrue past ten. The day wa» clear, and the ground with bright figures, a rose-col-sun intensely hot. In order not io excite ored cravat, and a bonnet laden with observation the bridal pair, the mother flowers. Then came Mademoiselle and the tour witnesses beparaied—

Monsieur Madinier was the only one

Ger- Remanjon, in her scanty black ^ress,

vaise walked in front, havmg me arm of which seemed so entirely apart of herLorilieux, while Monsieur Miidmier gave feelt, that it was doubtful if she laid it his to Mamma Coupeau on the opposite aside at night. The Gaudron. household sidewalk wer«* Coupeau. Boche and t'ollcwed. The husband, enormously stoti looked as if his vest would burst at the least movement and his wife, who was nearly as huge as himself, was dressed in a delicate shade of violet, which added to her apparent ssz?.

Bibi-ia-GriHmif. Thtee three wore black frock-coats, ano walked with tncir arms dangling Irom their rounded shoulders. Boche woip yellow pantaloon*. Bibi laGrillade's coat was buttoned to the chin, *8 he had no vest, and a wisp of a cravat was tied around uis neck.

kAh!"

0f

ally she would turn her head and glance brella as she talked, as if it had been a across the street wi'.h a little smile at walking-stick. As she kissed Gervai.se, Coupeau, who was none too comfortable she said: in his new clothes. They reached the

cried Madame Lerat, as she en­

tered "we are going to have a tremendous thower!" and she bade them look

muu»icui 1UAUIIIIVI W..V, vui» uuw UOUK M1UWC1 1UU MIC UMIC tsaviat iwa who wore a drets coat, a superb coat with out the window to see how black the square tails, and people stared as he clouds were. passed, with the stout Mamma Coupeau Madame Lerat, Coupeau's eldest sisin a green shawl and black bonnet with ter, was a tall, thin woman very mascured ribbons. Gervaise was very sweet ijne

in

and gentle, wearing her blue dress and her noae wearing a pace-colored dress, her trim little Kilk mantle. She listened that was tco loose forvher. It was prograciouslv to Lorilleux, who, in »pii« of fusely trimmed with fringe, which made the warmth of the day, was nearly lost in her look like a lean dog just coming out the folds of a loose overcoat. Occasion-

appearance, and talking through

the water She brandished an urn-

uYou

Mayor's office a half hour tao early, and blows, and it is as hot as a blast from a their turn was not reached until nearly furnace!" eleven. They sat in the corner of the Everybody at once declared they had office, stiff and uneasy pushing back their felt the storm coming all the morning.

have no idea how the wind'

xifiKKE

THJFI

Three days of extreme heat, some one •aid, always ended in a gust. -, "It -will Wow over," stud Coupeau, w$fo an air of confidence "but I wish my dp* ter would comc, all the same." v.-

Mad*ro«iLorill«#|, i? flu), was vefr ^r. ^liatjhfcne lie** h«iJ oa^ted for ber, but »¥e not«|n begnh to dreas *an J,* said- the widjflft in ber brother"*

ear: *you never anything like the temper she was in!" They waited another half-hour. The sky was growing blacker and blacker. Clouds of dust were rising along the street, and down came the rain. And it waa in this first shower, that Madame Lorilleux arrived—out of temper and out of breath—struggling with her umbrella, which she could not close. "I had ten minds/' slie exclaimed, "te turn back. I wanted you to wait until next Saturday. I knew it would rain today—I was certain of it!"

Coupeau tried to calm her, but she quickly snubbed him. Was it he, she would like to know, who was to pay for her dress if it were spoiled?

She were black silk, so tight that the button-holes were burst out, and it showed white on the shoulders, while the skirt was so scant that she could not take along step.

The other women, however, looked at her silk with envy. She took no notice of Gervaise, who sat by the »iJe oi u- o,otner*in law. She called to Luriiicc.y. and. with his aid carefully wiped evti _\ .-op ui rain trom her dress with her i.d. a.^eichiei.

Meanwhile, the bh.j-.«?r ceased abruptly, but the storm was evidently not over, for sharp flashes of lightning darted through the black clouds.

Suddenly the rain poured down again. The men stood in front .of the door with their hands in their pockets, dismally contemplating the scene. The women crouched together with their hands over their eyes. They were in such terror they could not talk when the thunder was heard further off, they all plucked up their spirits and became impatient, but a fine rain was tilling tha^ looked interminable. "Wh^tare we to do?" cried Madame Lorilleux crossly.

Then Mademoiselle Remanjon timidly observed that the sun perhaps would soon be out, and they might yet go int« the country upon this there was one general shout of derision. "Nice walking It Would be! and how pleasant the grasn would oc to

-if

She nad dr*«sed in her best*only to be drerche^ in the rain and to spend 't»e day in a win snop it seemed! ?hr nad had enough of the whole thm* and sne, should gd home. Coupeau and Lorilleux he'd the door, she exclaiming violently: TV

14Let

me go. I tell you I will go!" Her husband having induced her to listen to reason, Coupeau went to Gervaise, who was calmly conversing with her mother-in-law and Madame Faucon* nier. "Have you nSihing'td pl?o]»«e?" he asked, not venturing to add any term of endearment. '"No," she said with a smile, "but I a.n reMy to do anything you wish. I am very well suited as am."

Her face was indeed as sunny as a morning in May. She spoke to evwry one kindly and sympathetically. During the storm she had sat with her eyes riveted on the cloud% as it by the light of those lurid flashes she was reading the solemn book of the Future.

Monsieur Madinier had proposed nothing. He stood leaning against the counter with a pompous air he spat upon the ground, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rolled his eyes about. "We,could go to the Musee du Louvre, I suppose," and he smoothed his chin whil: awaiting the effect of this proposition. "There are antiquities there, statues, pictures—lots ot rhi —it t* very instructive. nave a tv v'i v'.'U en there?" he asked.

Thev all lookv-d iv c-tch Jher. Gervaise had never even neard ot tHe place,

III, it shall noibe my fault." v. .... The party went at once to the Moulin nor had Madame Fauconnier, nor Boche. d'Argent. Coupeau now walked with Coupeau tnought he had been there one his wife, tome little distance in advance Sunday but he was not sure, but Madame Of the others. Thev whispered and Lorilleux, on whom Madinier's air of laughed tojgether, andxseemed to sea- importance had.produced a pnsfoand im' neither the people, nor the nouses, nor pressioo, approved oi the idea. The day anything that was going on about them, was waited anyway, therefore if a little

At the Restaurant, Coupeau ordered instruction could be got it w.ktld be well ... .4 .m

at once some bread and ham then see- uj ». ««v ——», ing that .Boche and Bibi-la-GrilUde were they borrowed old umbrellas of every really hungry, he ordered more wise and imaginable hue from the, establishment •mapm ivi jut Mia mrtthpr rmiM Mt linthd fitrth fnr th£ MllKM dtt more mem. His mother could eat uoth' ing, and Gervaise, who was dying of Louvre. •*'^i

thir»t, drank glass alter glass oi water barely reddened with wine. "This is my affair," said Coupeau, going to the counter, where he paid four francs, five sous. 1 he guests bsgau to arrive. Madame Fauconnier, stout and handsome, waa the first. She wore a percale gown, ecrue

M. A.

1^. 4 ftk in MA a .^^!1 ra!1tni* to try it Ac the ram was still falling,

There were twelve of theni and they walked in couples, Madame Lorilleux With Madinier, to whom she grumbled all the way, "We know nothing about her" she said, "not even where he picked her up. Mr husband bas already lent them ten francs and who ever heard of a bride without a tingle relation. She said she had a sister io Paris. Where is she to-day, I should like to know!''

She checked hetself and pointed to Get vaise, whose lameness was very perceptible as she descended the hill.

Uju6t

look- at ner!" she muttered

"Wooden legs!" Tnis epithet was heard by Madame Fauconnier who ioja up the cudgels* for Gervaise who, she said, was as neat as a pin and worked like a tiger.

The wedding party coining out of la Rue St. Denib, cro sed the Boulevard under their umbrella's amid the pouring rain, driving here and there among the carriage*. The drivers as they pulled up their horses, shouted to iriem look out. with an oath. On the gray and muddy sidewalk the procession was very conspicuous—the blue dress of the bride ~the canary colored breeches of one of the men, Madiner's square tailed coat.—all gaye a carnival-like air tu group. But it was the hats of the party that were the most amusing, lor they w.ere ol all heights, sizes and styles,. Tne shopkeeper* on the Boulevard crowed to their windows to enjoy the droilery of the sight. The wedding proc*»«ioii—quite undisturbed by the observation it excited —went gayly on. They stopped for a moment on the Place des Victoite— the bride's shoestring was untied—she fastea

HaUTK WEEKLY GAZEOT.

uyon!"

Jiomethini: must be done. i:o*ever, io get nd ot me ume until dinner Btbi-la-Grillade proposed carvJ», Madame Lerat suggested story btelling. To each proposition a thousand objections were offered. Finally when Lorilleux proposed that the party should visit the tomb of Abelard and Heloise, his wife's indigna1tion burst forth.

ed it at the foot of the statue of Louis XIV*, her friends waiting as she did so. finally thev. reached the Louvre. Here Madteer politely asked permission to take the bftf of thepartv nf p'aee was scr large, tt*s*id, *at ft wei. a -very easy thingYtohlse ariesti^ heluiew the prettiest titbfos and the thinM best worth seeing, because he had often been there with aft artist, a vetr intelligent fellow, from whom a great manufacturer of pasteboard boxes bought.pictures.

The party entered the muveum of Assyrian antiquities. -They shivered and walked about, examining the colossal statues—the gods in black marblestrange beasto and monstrosities, half cats and half women. This was not amusing, and an inscription in Phenician characters appalled them.—"Who on earth had ever read such stuff as that? it was meaningless nonsense!"

But Madiner shouted to them from the stairs, 'Come on! That is nothing! Much more interesting things up here, I assure you!"

The severe nudity of tr.e great stair case cast a gloom over tneir spirits an usher in livery added to their awe, and it was with great respect and on the tip. of their toes they entered the French gallery.

How many statue*! Hpw manv pictures! They wished they had all the money they had cost.

In theGalleried'Apollon the floor excited their admiration it was smooth as glass, even the feet of the sofas were reflected in it. Madiner bade them look at the coiling, and at its many beauties of decoration, but they said they dared not look up. Then before entering tne Salon Carre he pointed out the window and «aid: "That is the balcony 'Where' Charles IX. fired on the people!"

With a magnificent tieature he ordered his party to stand still in the centre of the Salon Carre.

There are only chefs-d'oiuvres here,' he whispered as solemnly as it' he had beer, in "a church.

Thev walked around the salon. Gervaise asked the meaning of one of the pictures—the Noces de Cana—Coupeau stopped before Lb loconde declaring that it was like one of his aunt».

Boche and Bibi-la-GrtiUde snickered and pushed each other at the sight of the nude female figures, and the Gaudrons, husband and wile, stood-^per.-raouthed and deeply touched—before Munllo's irgin."

When they had been once arouud the room, Madiuier, who was quite attentiv to Madame Lorilleux on account ot her silk gown, proposed they should cOi( over again, it was well worth ir, he said.

He never hesitated tn reply into any qi ertion which she addressed to him inr her thirst for information, and when she stopped before "Titian's Mibtres*," who»e vellow hair struck her as likr: her own, he told her it was a misu ot Henri, IV., who was the heroine of a play then running at the A mbigu

The wedding party fir all entered the long gallery devoted to the lta[ian and Flemish schools of art. The pictures were all meaningle#6 to them and their beads were beginning to ache. They felt a thrill of inferest, howexe, in the copvists with,their easels, who painted without being disturbed by spectators. The artists scattered through the rooms had heard that a primitive wedding party, were making a tour of the Louvre, and hurried, with laughing faces to enjoy the scene, while the weary bride and bridegrooan, accompanied by their friends, clumsily moved about ouer the shining resounding floors much like cattle let loose, and with quite a» keen an apprecition of the njarvellous beauties about them. 4*1.

The women vOwed their backs were broken standing so long, and Madinier declaring he knew the way said they would leave, after he had snown them a certain room to which he could go with his eyes shut. But he was very much mistaken. Salon succeeded to salon, and finally the party went up a flight of stairs and found themselves among cannons and other instruments of war. Madinier, unwilling to confess that he had lost himself, wandered distractedly about, declaring that the doors had been changed. The party began to feel that they were there for'ltfc, when suddenly to their great ioy, they heard the cry of the janitors resounding from room to room. "Time to close the doors!"

They meekly followed one of them, and when they were outside, they uttered a sign of relief as they put up their umbrellas once more, but one and all afiected great pleasure ax having bten to theLour-e. *. n-i.

The clock atrusk four. There were two hours to dispose of before dinner. The women would have likee to rest, but the men were more energetic, and proposed another walV during which so tremendous a shower felt, that umbrellas were useless and dresses were irreirieva bly ruined Tne Monsieur Madinier suggested that they should ascend the column on the Place Vendome. "It is not a bad idea," cried the men. And the procession began the ascent of the spiral staircase, which Boche said was so old that he could feel it shake. This terri8ed the ladies, who uttered little shrieks, but Coupeau said nothing, his arm was around his wife's waist, and just as they emerged upon the plattorm ne kissed her.

4*Upon

my word!" cried Madame Lor

illeux much iCandalized Madinier again constituted himself master of ceremonies, and pointed out all the monuments, bat Madame Fauconnier would not put her foot outside the little door—she would not look down on that pavement for all the world, she said

and

the party soon tired ot this amusement and descended the stairs. At the foot Madinier wished to pay, but Coupeau interfered and put into the hand of the guard twenty-four so is—two for each person. It was now half-oast five they had just time to *et to the restaurant, but Coupeau proposed a glass of Vermouth first, and they entered a cabaret for that purpose.

When they returned to the Moulin Argent, thev found Madame Boche, with the two children, talking to Mamma Coupeau, near the table—already spread and waiting. When Gervaise saw Claude and Etienne, she took them both on her knees and kissed them lovingly. "Have they boen good?" she asked. "I should think Coupeau would feel rather queer!" said Madame Lorilleux, as she looked on grimly.

G«rvaise had been calm and smding all dav, but she had quietly watched her

husband with the Lorilleux. She thought Coapeau was «fr«fcf 0! his sister—cowardly, in fact. The evening previous, he had said he did not care a sou for their ooinion on ar.y subject, and that th(p had the tongues of vipers bul iiow He was with them* he was like a whipped hound, hung on their words and anticipated their wiahea. This troubled his wife, for it augured 111. she thought, for their future happiness. "We won't wait any longer for the Mes-Bottes," cried Coupeau. "We are all here, but him, and his scent is good! Surely he can't be waiting for us still, at St. Denis!"

The guests, in good spirits once more, took their seats with a great clatter of chairs.

Gervaise was between Lorilleux and Madinier. and Ccupeau between Madame Fauconnier, and his sister, Madame Lorilleux. The others seated themselves. "No one has asked a blessing," said Boche, as the ladie* pulled the table cloth well over their skirts, to protect them from spots.

But Madame Lorilleux frowned at this poor jest. The vermicelli soup, which was cold and greasy, was eaten with noisy haste. Two garcons served them, wearing aprons of a very doubtful white, and greasy vests.

Through the four windows, open on the court yard and its acaciasf streamed the light, soft and warm, ateg the storm. The trees, bathed in the setting sun, imparted a cool, green tinge to the dingy room, and the shadows of the waving branches and quivering leaves, danced over the cloth.

There were two fly-specked mirrors at either end of the room, which indefinitely lengthened the table spread with thick china. Every time the garcons opened the door into the kitch*n, there came a strong smell of burning fat. "Don't let us all talk at once!" said Boche, as a dead silence fell upon the room, broken by the abrupt entrance of Mes-Bottes. "You are nice people!" he exclaimed. "I have been waiting for you until I ant wet through, and have a fish pond in each pocket."

This struck the circle as the height of wit, and they all laughed, while he ordered the garcon to and fro. He devoured three plates of soup and enormous slices of bread. The head of the establishment came and looked in. in considerable anxiety a laugh ran around the room. Mes-Bottes recalled to their memories a dav when he had eaten twelve hard-boiled eggs and drank twelve glasses of wine, while the clock was striking twelve.

There was} a brief silence. A waiter placed on the table a rabbit stew in a deep dish. Co.ipsau turned round. "Say, bov, is that a gutter rabbit? It mews still."

A nd the low mewing of a cat seemed indeed to come from the dish. This delicate joke was perpetrated by Coupeau in the throat, without the smallest mpvement of hi! lips. This feat always met with such success that he never ordered a meal anywhere without a rabbit stew. The ladies-wiped their eyes with their napkins because they laughed so much.

Madame Fauconnier beggc# for the head—she adored the head and Boche asked especially for onions.

Madame Lerat compressed her lips and said morosely: "Of course, I might have known that!"

Madame Lerat was a hard working woman. No man had ever put his nose within her door since ber widowhood, and yet her instincts were thoroughly bad—every word uttered lv others bore to ber ears a double meaning—a coarse allusion sometimes tfO deeply veiled that no one but herself could grasp its meaning.

Boche leaned over her with a sensual smile and entreated an explanation. She shook her head. "Ofcourse," she repeated. ^.OnionsI Iknewitl"

Everybody »as talking now, each of his own trade. Madinier declared that box-making was an art, and he cited the New Year bonbon boxes, as wonders of luxury. Lorilleux talked of his chains— of their delicacy and beauty. He said that in former times, jewellers wore swords at their sides. Coupeau described a weather-cock, made by one of his comrades, out of tin. Madame Lerat showed BibUla-Grillade how a rose stem was made, by rolling the handle of her knife between her bony fingers and Madame Fauconnier complained loudly of one of her apprentices, who, the night before, had badly scorched a.pair of Lnen sheets. "It is no use to talk!" cried Lorileux, striking his fist on the table "gold is gold!"

A profound silence followed the utterance of this trasium, amid which arose from the other end of the table, the piping tones of Mademoiselle Remanjon's voice, as she said: "And then I sew on the skirt. I .stick a pin in the head to hold on the cap, and it is done. They sell for three cents."

She was describing her dolls to MesBottes, whose jaws worked steadily, like machinery.

He did not listen, but he nodded at in tervals, with his eyes fixed on the gar' cons, to see that they carried away no diPhes that were not emptied.

There had been veal cutlets and string beans served. As a roti—two lean chickens on a bed of water cresses, were brought in. The room waa growing very warm—the sun was lingering on the' top of the acacias, but the room was growing dark. The men threw off their coats, and ate in their shirt sleeves. "Madame Boche," cried Gervaise, "please don't let those children eat so much."

But Madame Coupeau interposed, and declared that for once in a while, a little fit of indigestion wjpuiU do them no harm.

Madame Boche accused her husband of holding Madame Lerat's hand under the table.

Madinier talked politics. He was a Republican, and Bibi-la-Grillade and himself were soon in a hot discussion.

Who cates," cried Coupeau, "whether we have a King, an Emperor, or. a President, so long as we earn our five francs per day—

Lorileux shook his head. He was born on the same day as the Comte de Chambord, September 29th, 1820, and thus coincidence dwelt in his mind. He seemed to feel that there was a certain connection between the return of the King to France, and his own personal fortunes. He did not sav, distinctly, what he ex*

pec tad, but it was clear that it was tomething yery agreeable.

The 1* desaert was no# on the table—a floating island flanked by two plates of chceee^ aad two of fruit. The floating Island^was a great success. -Mes-Bottes He all thfi cheese and called for more bread. Afcd then, as some of the custard was leit in thedish, he pulled it toward him and ate it as ii ft had been soup. "How extraordinary!" said Mjulinier, filled with admiration.

The men rose to light their pita and as they passed Mes-Bottes, asked him how he felt.

Bibi-la-Grillade lifted him from the floor, chair and all. "Zounds!" he cried, "the fellow's weight has doubled!"

Coupeau declared his friend had only just begun his night's work that he would eat bread until dawn The waiters, pale wjith fright, disappeared Bosche went down stairs on a tour of inspection, and stated that the establishment was a state of confusion, that the proprietor, in consternation, had sent but to all the bakers in the neighborhood that the house, in fact, had an utterly ruined aspect. "I should not like to take you to board," said Madame Graudon.

Let us have a punch, cried MesBottes. But Coupeau seeing his wife's troubled face, interfered, and said that no one should drink anv more. They had all had enough.

This declaration met with the approval of some of the party, but the others sided with Mes-Brottes.

Those who are thirsty are thirsty, he said. No one need drink that does not wish to do so, I am sure. And he added,with a wink, "there will be all the more for those who do

Then Coupeau baid they would settle the account, and his friend could do as he pleased afterward.

Alas! Mes-Bottes could produce only three francs he had changed his fivefraoc piece, and the rest had melted away somehow on the road irom St. Denis. He handed over the three francs, and Coupeau, greatly indignant, borrowed the other two from his brother-in-law, who gave the money secretly, being afraid of his wife.

Monseur Madinier had taken a plate. The ladies each laid down their five franc pieces quietly and timidly, and then the men retreated to the other end of the room and counted up the amount, and each man added to his subscription five sous for the garcon.

But when Monsieur sent for the proprietor the little assembly were thrilled, at.hearing him say that this was not allk there werea extras."

As this waa received with tfxplifittlons of french, he went into explanations. He had furnished twenty-five litres of wine instead of twenty as he agreed. The floating island was an addition, on seeing that the desert was somewhat scanty, whereupon ensued a formidable quarrel. Caupeau declared that he would not pay a sou of the extras.

There is your money," he said, "take it, and never again will ode of us step a foot under your roof!"

I want six francs more," muttered the man. The women gathered about in great indignation, not a centime would they give they declared.

Madame Fauconnier had a wretched dinner—she said she could have had a better one at home for forty sous. Such arrangements always turned out badly, and Madame Gaudron declared aloud, that if people wanted their friends at their weddings they usually invited them out and out.

Gervaise took refuse with her mother-in-law in a distant window, feeling heartily ashamed of the whole scene.

Monsieur Madinier went down stairs with the man and low mutterings of the storm reached the party. At the end of a half hour he reappeared, having yielded to the extent of of paying three francs, but no one was satisfied, and they all began a discussion in regard to the extras.

The evening waa spoiled, as waa Madame Lerat's dress th£d waa no end to the chapter of accidents. "I know," cried Madame Lorilleux, that the gracon spilled gravy from the chicken down ir.y back." She twisted and turned l»eraelf before the mirror until she succeeded in finding the spot. •*Yes, I knew it," she cried, "and he shall pay for it as true as* I live. I wish I had remained at home!"

She left in a rage, and Lorilleux at her heels. Whan Coupeau saw her go, he was in actual consternation, and Gervaise saw that it was best to make a move at once. Madame Boche had agreed to keep the children with her for a day or two.

Coupeau and his wife hurried out, in hope of overtaking Madame Lorilleux, which they soon did. Lorilleux, with the kindly desire of making all smooth said:

We will go to your 'ioor with you "Your door indeed!" cried his wife, and then pleasantly went on to express her surprise that they did not postpone their marriage until they hsid saved enough to buy a little furniture and move away from that hole, up under the roof. "But I have given up that room," said her brother. "We shall have the one Gervaise occupies, it is larger."

Madame Lorilleux forgot himself she wheeled around suddenly. •What!" she exclaimed. "You are going to live in Wooden Legs' room?"

Gervaise turned pale. This name she how heard for the first time, and it was like a slap in the face. She heard much more in her sister-in-law's exclamation than met her ear. That room to which allusion was made, was the one where she had lived with Lantier for a whole month, where she had wept such bitter tears, but Coupeau did not understand that, he was only wounded by the name applied to his wife. "It was bardly wise of you," he said sullenly, "to nickname people after that fashion, as perhaps you are not aware of what you are called' in your Quartier. Cow's-Tail is not a yery nice name, but they have given it to you on account of your hair. Why should we not keep the room? it is a very good one."

Madame Lorilleux would not answer. Her dignity was sadly disturbed at being called Cow's-Tail.

Tliey walked on in silence until they reached the Hotel Boncceur and just as

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