Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 30 October 1879 — Page 2

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f'TS SOtfMO.IR:

A HAPPY HOME.

Four years of hard and incessant toil followed this day. Gervaise and Coupeau were wife and prudent. .They worked hard, and took a little relaxation on Sundays. The wife worked twelve hours of the twenty-lour with Madame Fauconnier, and yet found time^to keep her own home like waxwork. The husband was never known to be tip6y, but brought home his wages and smoked his pipe at his own window at night before going tD bed. They were the bright and shining lights—the good example of the whole Quartier and as they made jointly about nine francs per day, it was easy to see they were putting by money.

But in the first few" months of their married life they were obliged to trim their sails closely, and had some trouble £o make both ©nds meet. They took a great dislike to the Hotel Boncoeur. Tbey longed for a home of their own, with their own lurniture. They estimated tl'.e co6t over arid oyer again, and decided that for three hundred and fifty francs thev could venture but they had little hope of caving such a sum in less than two years, when a stroke ot good luck befell them.

An old gentleman in Plassan6 sent for' Claude, to place him at school. He was a very eccentric old gentleman, fond of pictures and art. Claude was a great expense to his mother, and when Etienne alone was at home they saved the three hundred and fifty franesihaeven months. The day they 'purchased their turniture thpy took a long and happy walk together for it was an important 6tep they had taken—important not only in their own eyes, but in those of the people around them.

For two months they had been looking for an apartment. Tbey wished, of all things, to take one in the old house where Madaine Lorilleux lived, but there was not a tingle room to be rented, and they wert compelled to relinquish the idea. Gervuise was reconciled to this the more easily, since she did not care to be thrown in ai»y cloter cnntact with the Lorilleux. They looked further. It was essential that Gervaise should be near her friend and employer, Madame Fauconnier, and they finally succeeded in their search, and were indeed in wonderful luck for they obtained a large room, with a kitchen and tiny bed room, just opposite the establishment of the laundress. It was a small house, two stories, with one steep staircase, and was divided into two lodging—the one on the right, the other on the left, while the lower floor was occupied by a carriage maker.

Gervaise wax delighted. It seemed to lier that she was once more in the country—no neighbors, no gossip, no interterence and from the place where she stood and ironed ali day at Madame Fauconniev's she could sete the windows of her own room.

They moved in the month of April Gervaise was then near her confinement, but it was she who cleaned and put in order her new home.e"Every penny was of const quence," she said with pride, now that they 6 ould soon have another mouth to feed. She rubbed her furniture, which was of old mahogany, good but sccjnd-hand, until it shone like glass, And was quite broken-hearted when she discovered a scratch. She held her breath if ihe knocked it when sweeping. The commode was her especial pride—it was so dignified and stately. Her pet dream—which however she kept to herself—was 6ome day to have a clock to put in the centre of her rumble slab. If there had not been a baby in piospect, she would have purchased this much coeted article at once but she sighed and dismissed the thought.

Etienne's bed was placed iti the tiny room, almost a closet, and there wa6 room for the cradle by its side. The kitchen was about as big as one'6 hand and very dark, but by leaving the door open, one could see pretty well and as Gervaise had no big dinners to get, she managed comfortably. The large room was her pride. In the morning the white curtains of the alcove were drawn, and the bed-room was transformed into a lovely dinning-room, with its table in the «biddle, the commode and a wardrobe opposite each other. A tiny stpve kept them warm in cold weather, fbiy,.ts§jjen sous per day, ,n

Coupeau ornamented the... walls with several cHgravthgs—ione* of Marishal of France on a spirited steed, with his baton in his hand. Above the »mmode were the photographs of the family, arranged in two lines, with an antique china benitier between.! On the corners of the commode, a bust! of Pascal faced another of Beranger—one grave, the other smiling. It was, indeed, a fair and pleasant home.

FROM THE FRXKC9 OF

EMILE ZOLA.

A0TKOR OF "HBLBVE OR, UNE PAG^ D'AMOUR," "THE ABBR'S TEMPTATION OR LA FAUTE DE L'ABBR MOORET," ETC.

CHAPTER I.

'4

"How much do you think we pay here?" Gervai^.yif.o^ld a8k of eaqh uew visitor. V.! -irv? I!

And when too^ pi*" an estimate i§as given, she was charmed, "One hundred aud fifty, francs—not a penny more," she would £xclaij\i.. "Is it —not wonderful?" V. vi No small portion of the woman's satisfaction arose from an acacia, which grew

In her court-yard, onfe of whose branches crossed her window, arid the scanty foliage was a whole wilderness to her.

fj.

Her baby was born one afternoon. She would not allow her husband tb be sent for, and when he came gaylyf into the room, he was welcomed by hi* pale wife who whispered to him as he stooped pver her: 1 "My dear, it is a girl.-' 1 "All right!" said the tin-w&rker, jest­

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^GERVAISE,

CHAPTER IV.

1 -1

.* lli'ltf r^ty,

ing to hide his real emotio". "I ordered a girl. You always do just what I want!"

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He took\ip the child. "Let us have a good look at you, young lady! The down, on the top of your head is pretty black, I think. Now you must r.ever squall, but be aa good and reasonable always as your papa and mamma."

Gervaise, with a faint smile and sad eye6 looked at her daughter. She shook her head. She would have preferred a boy, because boys run less risks in a place like Paris. The nurse took the baby from the father's hands, and told Geryaise she must not talk. Coupeau said he must go and tell his mother and sister the news, but he was famished and must eat something first. His wife was greatly disturbed at seeing him wait upon himself, and she tossed about a little and complained that she could not make him comfortable. "You must be quiet," said the nurse again. "It is lucky you are here, or she would be up and cutting my bread for me," said Coupeau.

He finally set forth to announce tbp news to his family, and returned in an hour with them all.

The Lorilleux, under the influence of the prosperity of their brother and his wife, had become extremely amiable toward them, and oniy lifted they* eyebrows in a significant sort ot way, as much as to say that they could tell something if they pleased. "You must not tplk, you understand," said Coupeau, "but they would come and take a peep at you, and I am going to make them some coffee."

He disappeared into the kitchen, and the women discussed the 6ize of the baby and whom it resembled. Meanwhile Coupeau was heard banging round in the kitchen, and his wife nervously called out to him where the things were th^t he wanted, but her husband rose superior to -t™ all difficulties, and soon appeared with the smoking coftee-pJt, and th»iy all seated themselves around the. table, except the nurse, who drank a cup standing at.d then departed alll was going well and 6he was not needed. It she was wanted in the morning, they could send for he:.

Gervaise lay with a faint smile on her lips. She only half heard what was said by those about her. She had no strength to speak, it seemed to her that she was dead. She heard the words baptism. Coupeau saw no necessity for the ceremony, and was quite sure too, that the child" would take cold. In his opinion, the less one had to do with Priests, the better. His mother was hortilied and called him a heathen, while the Lorilleux claimed to be religious people also. "Itiiad better be on Sunday," said iiis sister, in a decided tone, and Gervaise consented with a little nod. Every body kissed her and then the baby, addressing it with tender epithets as if it could understand, and departed.

When Coupeau was alone with his wife, he took her hand and held it while he finished his pipe. "I could not help their coming," he said, "but I am sure they have given you the headache." And the rough, clumsy man kissed his wite tenderly, moved by a great pity for all she had borne for his sake.

And Gervaise was very happy. She told him so, and said her only anxiety now, was to be on her feet again as soon as possible, for they had another mouth to feed. He soothed her, and asked if she could not trust him to look out for their little one.

In the morning, when he went to his work, he sent Madame Boche to spend the day with his wife, who at night told him she never could consent to lie still any longer and see a stranger going about her room, and the next day she was up, and would not be taken care of again. She had no time for such nonsense! She said it would do for rich women, but not for her, ai)d in another week she was at Madame Fauconnier's again, at work.

Madame Lorilleux, who was the baby's godmother, appeared on Saturday evening with a cap and baptism robe, which she had bought cheap, because they had lost their first freshness. Tlie next day, Lorilleux, as god-father, gave -Gervaise six pounds of sugar. They flattered themselves they knew how to do things properly, and that evening, at the supper given by Coupeau, did not appear emptyhanded. Lorilleux came wfth a couple of bottles of wine under each arfa, and his wife brought a large custard which was specialty of a certain restaurant.

Yes, they, "knew how to do things— these,people—but they q,Uo liked to tell of what they (did, and Ihey told every one they •, f%w in the next month, that they had spent twenty franco,' Which canae tp the ears oj' Gervaise, who was none too welt pleased?

It was at this supper that Gervaise be came acquainted .with hpr^neighbors on the pvher side pi. fto^e Inese were Madame G'ou^eU^a" widow, and her son.,. Up to" this" time they

small seryices on the first*?ay of hef illness, Gervaise ifiviteif them ohj th^ occasion of the 6kdt»m.

These people

were

from the Depart*

merit du Nond. The mother repaired laces, while the *on,' a blacksmith by trade, worked in a factory.

They had Eved in their jft«sent apartment for Jfive years. Beneath the peace-" ful calm of their lives lay a great sorfow Goujet, the husband and father, had killed a man in a fit of furious intoxication^ and then while in prison, had choked

*9

himw|U td death with a pocket hanker* chief, ./ HWvidow and child left Lille after this anri came to Pari*, with the weight of this tragedy on their hearts and heids, and faced the future with indomifable courage and sweet patience Perhaps they were over proud and reserved, for they held thcmtelves aloof from those about them. Madame Goujet always wore mourning, and her pale serene face were encircled with nun like bands of white. Goujet was colossus of twer.ty three, with a clear fresh complexion and honest eye*. At the manufactory he went by the name of the Gucule-d'Or, on account of his beautiful blonde beatd. j4**

Gervaise took a great fancy to those people, and when she first entered their apartment was Charmed with the exquisite cleanliness of all she saw. Madame Goujet opened the door into her son's room to show it to her. It was as pretty and white as the clumber of a y6ung girl. A narrow iron bed, white curtains and quilt, a dressing table and book shelves, made ua the furniture. A few colored engrayings were pinned against the wall and Madatr.c Goujet said her son was a good deal of a boy still—he liked to look at pictures rather than read. Gervaise sat for an hour with her neighbor, watching her at work with her cushion, its numoerless pins and the pretty lace.

The more f-he saw of her new friends the better Gervaise liked them. They were frugal but not parsimonious. They were the admiraikni of the neighborhood. Goujet was never seen with a hole or spot on hi6 garments. He was very polite to all, but a little diffident, in spite of his height and broad shoulders. [The girls in the street were much anmsek: to see him look away when the met him— he did not fancy their ways—their forward boldness and loud laughs. One day he came home tipsy. His mother uttered no word of icproach, but brought out a picture of his father which was piously preserved in her wardrobe. And after that lesson Goujet drank no more liquor, though he conceived no hatred for wine.

On Sunday he went out with his mother, who was his idol. He went to her with all his troubles and with all his joys as he had none when little.

At first l.e took n« interest in Gervaise, but after a whili: he Ivgan to like her, and treated lu-r tike a sjslei with abrupt familiarity.

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Cadet Cas-sis—who wa-i thorough Pairsan—• thought I Gucule d'Or very stupitl What was the sense of turning awky from all the pretty girls he met in the street? But this did not prevent the t.\-o voung fellows from liking each other very heartily.

For ihrte jears the lives of tnese people flowed tranquilly on, without an event. Gervaise had been elevated in the laundrv where she worked, had higher wages, n'd decided to place Etienne at school. Notwithstanding all her expert

ses

of the hocvMi'il.l. thev w. ro ab'e to save twenty and thirty fcrar.e., a month. When tliei-e saving-, anionn t-d to six hundied irano, Gt-rvaie c-juld not rest, so tormen'ed wds sli- by ambitious dreams She wisie t-to open a smiill establishment herself amnure apprentices in.her turn. She hesitated uuturally to take thi? definite steps, and said they would lv)(,k anxmd for a slup that would answer their purpose thfir ii.oney in the savings bank was quietly r.»il-ngup. She had bought ,u clock, tt'.e object of her ambition it to 'be paid f.r in a year —-so niiich each month. It was .vonderfnl clock, ro^etvofjil with fluted columns, and gilt mouldings and pendulum.' Sue kept her hank \took under the glass hhadc. uh1 often when slv was thinkniu of her shop ih& stood with her eyes fixed cn the cl"ck, as she were waiting for some especial and solemn moment.

The Coupeaus and the Goujets now went out on Sunday together. It wa* an orderly party with a dinner at some quiet restaurant. The men drank a glass or two of wine, and came home with the ladies and counted up and settled the expenditures oi' the day before they separated. The Lorilleux were bitterly, jealous of these new friends of their brother's. They dei'-fired it was a very queer look to see hiin and his #'fc always with strangers rather than with his own family, and Madame Lorilleux began to say hateful things again of Ger vaise. Madame Lerat, on the contiary, took her part, while mamma Coupeau tried to plea?e evry one

The day that Nana, which \va« the pet name given to th little tjirt—was three years old, Coupeau on coming in found his wite in a state of great excitement. She refused to give any explanation,

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Bay­

ing in fact there was really nothing the matter, but she finally became so ab stracted that she stood still with the plates in her hand, a« she laid *he table tor dinner and her husband insisted on an explanation. "If you must know," she said, "that little shop in la Rue da la Goutte d'Or is vacant. I heard 60 only an hour ago, and it struck me all of a heap!"

It was a very nice shop in the very house of which they had so often thought There was the shop itself—a back room —and two others. They were small, to be 6ure, but convenient an -veil arranged—only she taught it ddfti-j—fiv^., hundred francs,

fiA'1

asked ihe Drice, then:

"Ye6,1asked it just out of curiosity.'' she answered, with an air ot mdttVer ence, "but it is.'., too dear, decidedly top dear. ^It. woflld be unwise I think, to take iu"

But she could taik of nothmg els- the whole evening. She drew the plan of the rpoms on the margirt of ^'newspaper, and as she talk'eJ, she measured the fur niture, as if they were to move the next day. Then Coupeau, seeing her great desire to have the place, declared he wopld »ee the ownerthV^xt morning, for it was possible he "Vfrduid take less than five hundred francs but fi6w woiild she like tdlivc hear1 his fctetdr, •whoria she~aete2£d? 7777

Gervaise 'wiS aiSplewed at thisr aftd %aid Ihe detesflKf oO ene, and even detVhded the Lirilfeux.declaring they were trdf s» bad, after alt. And when Coupeau was asleep, 'her busy brain was|. at work arranging the rooms, whifh as jiet they had not decided to hire,

The next day, when she .wiadiralbne she lifted the shade from th* clocks and bfig&ed hdrbank book. Just to think, tirat her shop and future prosoerity lay between those dir»y Jeave«ti

Before going to, her work, |she consulted Madame Goujet, who ^pfpved of

the plan. With a husband like her's, whomever drank, she could

aot

fail of

success. At noon she called on her sis-ter-in-law to ask her advice, for she did not wish to have the air of concealing anything from the family.

Madame Lorilleux was confounded. What! did Wooden-Legs think of having an establishment ot her own I and with an envious heart she stammered out that it would be very well certainly but when site had recovered herself a little she began to talk of the dampness of the courtyard, and of the darkness of the rez-de-chaussee. Oh! yes, it was a capital place for rheumatism: but, of course, if her mind was made up, anything she coutd say would make no difference.

That night Gervaise told her husband that if he had thrown any obstacles the way of her taking the shop, she beeved she should have fallen sick and died, so great was her longing. But before they came to any decision, they must see if any diminution of the rent could beobtained.

We can go to-morrOw if you say so," was her husband's reply "you can call for me at six o'clock."

Coupeau was then couipletidg the roof of a three-storied house, and was laying the last 6heets of zinc, it was May, and a cloudless evening. The sun was low in the horizon, and against the blue sky tha figure of Coupeau was clearly defined, as he cut his zinc, as quietly as a tailor might have cut out a pair of breeches in his workshop. His assistant, a lad of seventeen, was blowing up the furnace with a pair of bellows, and at each puff a great cloud.of sparks arose. "Put in the irons, Zidore shouted Coupeau.

The boy thrust the irons among the coals, which showed only a dun pink in the sunlight,and then went to work again with his bellows. Coupeau took up his last sheet of zinc. It was to be placed on the edge of the roof, near the gutter. Just at that spot the roof was' very steep. The man walked along in hif. list slippers much as if he had been at home, whistling a popular melody. He allowed himself to slip a little, and caught at the chimney, calling to Zidore as he did so: "Why in thunder don't you bring the irons? What are you staring at?"

But Ziddre, quite undisturbed, continued to stare at a cloud of heavy black smoke that was rising in the direction of Grenelle. He wondered if it were a fire but he crawled with the irons toward Coupeau,' who began to solder the zinc, supporting himself on the point of one foot, or by one, finger, not rashly, but with calm deliberation and perfect coolness. He knew what he could do, and never lost his head. His pipe was in his mouth, and he would occasionly turn to spit down into the street below. "Hallo! Madame Boche!" he Cried, as he suddenly catight sight of his eld friend crossing the street, "how are yoti today?" bhe looked up, laughed, and a brisk conversation ensued between the roof and the street. She stood With her hands under her apron and her iuce turned up, while he, with one arm around a flue, leaned over the side of the house. •'Have you seen my wife?", he asked. "No indeed is sue anywhere around?" "She is comirtg for me.-' Is every one well with you?" "Yes, all well, thanks I am going to a butcher near here who sells cheaper than up our way."

They raised iheir voices because a carriage was passing, and ttiis brought to a neighboring window a little old woman, who stood in breathless horror, expecting to see the man fill fro.ti the roof in at.other minute. "Well, good-night!" cried Madame Boche, "I mu«t not detain you from your work." .'

Coupeau turned and took the irbn Zidore held out to hiin. At the same moment Madame Boche saw Gervaise coming toward her, with little Narisl trotting at her side. She looked np to the roof to tell Coupeau, but Gervaise closed her lips with an energetic signal, and then as see reached t.hs old Concierge, she said in a low voice, that she was always in deadly terror that her husband would fall. 'She never dared look .at him when he was in such places. "It is not very agreeable, I admit," answered Madame Boche. "My m&n is a tailor, aod I am spared all this." "Atfirst,"continued Gervaise, "I had not a moment'i) peace. I saw him in my dreams on a litter but now I have got accustomed to it somewhat

She looked up, keeping Nana behind her skirts, lest the child should call out and startle her father, who was at that moment on the extreme edge. She saw the soldering iron,and the tiny flame that rose as he carefully passed it along the edges of the zinc. Gervai-e, pale with suspense and fear, raised her hands mechanically with .,a gesture of supplication.,, Coupeau ascended the steep roof with a slow step then glancing down, he beheld hi* wife. "You are watching me. are you he cried, ajly. "Ah, Madame llo^ne, is she not a silly one? She was atraid to speak to me. Wait^en minuto, will you

The two women stood on the sidewalk, having as much as they could do to restrain Nana, who insisted on fishing in the gutter.

The old woman still stood at her window, looking up at the roof, and waiting. "Just see .'.er," said Madame IJpche.

What is she looking at?" '. 'J Coupeau was heard lustily singing with the aid of a pair ot composes, lie had drawn Rome lines, and now proceeded to cut a large fannvthis he adroitly, with his tools, folded into the shape of a pointed mushroom. Zidore was again heating the.irons, The sun wis setting jutit behind, the house, and tlie whole western sky was flushed with rose fading apjd agawst tlus sky, the figures of the two men, immeasurably exagt»rated, stood clearly out, as well as the strange form of the zinc whrich Coupeau was then manipulating. "Zidore4-the irons!"

ZidOife was not to be seen. His master, with an,cath, fhouted down (he scuttle window which was operf near by, and finally discovered him two houses off. The boy- was taking a walk, apparently, with his scanty blonde hair blow* ing all about his head. -Do yott think you aie in the Country?" cried Coupeau, in a fury. You are another Beranger perhaps—composing verses 1 Will you have the kjndnew to

ve ase my irons-? Who ever h«srd the e. 'Give my irons, I »»v The irons hifsed as he applied them, and he called to Gervaise "I am coming

The chimney to which h« had fitted this cap was in the centre ot the root. Gerva*se 6tood watching him. soothed by his calm self-possession. Nana clapped her little hands. "Papa Papa she cried. "Look

The father turned—his foot slipped— he rolled down the roof slowly, unable to catch at anything. "Good God!" he said, in a choked voice, and he felt—his body turned over twice and crashed into the middle of the street with the dull thud of a bundle of wet linen.

Gervaise stood still. A shriek was frozen on her lips. Madame Boche snatched Nana in her arms, and hid her head that she might not see—and the little old woman opposite, who seemed to have waited for this scene in the drama, quietly closed her windows.

Four men bore Coupeau to a druggist's at the corner, where he lay for an hour while a litter was sent for from the Hospital Lariboisiere. He was breathing still, but that was all. Gervaise knelt at his side, hysterically sobbing. Every minute or two, in spite of the prohibition of the druggist, she touched him to see if he were 6tiil warm. When the litter arrived, and they spoke of the Hospital, she started Up, say in jr. violently: "No—no!—Not to the^Hospital—to our own home.

4.

In vain did they tell her thit the expense would be very great if she nursed him at home. "No—no!" she said, "I will show them the way. He is my husband, is fie not? and I will take care of him myself."

And Coupeau was carried home—and as the litter was borne through the Qnartier the women crowded together and extolled Gervaise. "She was a little lame to be sure, but she was very energetic, and she would save her man."

Madame Boche took Nana home, and then went about among her friends to tell the story with interminable details. "I saw him fall," she said. "It was all because of the child he was going to speak to her, when down he went. Good Lord! I trust I may never see puch another sight."

For a week Coupeau's life hung on a thread. His family and his friends expected to pee him die from one hour to another. The physician, an experienced physician, whose «»very visit cost five francs, talked of a lesion, and that word was in itself very terrifying to all but Gervaise, who, pale from her vigils, hut calm and resolute, shrugged her shoulders, and would not allow herself to be discouraged. Her man's leg was broken, that, she knew very well—"but he need not die for that!—and she watched at his side night and day—forgetting her children, and her home, and everything but him.

On the ninth day, when the physician told her he would recover, 6he dropped, half fainting, on a chair—and at night she slept for a couple of hours with her head on the foot of his bed.

This accident to Coupeau brought all his family about hint. His mother spent the night6 there, but she slept in her chair quite comfortably. Madame Lerat came in every evening, after work was over to make inquiries.

The Lorilleux at fitst came three or four times each day, and brought an armchair for Gervaise but soon quarrels and discussions arose as to the proper way of nursing the invalid, and Madame Lorrilleux lost her tempsr, and declared that had Gervaise stayed at home, and not gone to pester her husband when he was at work, that thf accident would not have happened.

When she saw Coupeau out of dknt,er, Gervaise allowed his family to approach him as'they saw fit. His convalesence would b.- a matter of months This again waa a ground of indignatbn, for Madame Lorilleux. iy "What nonsense it was," she said, "for Gervaise to take him home had he gone to the Hospital he would have recovered as quickly again."

And then she madeacalculation of what four months would cost:—First, there was the time lo?t*and the physician, the medicines, the wii»es, and finally the meat for b*ef tea. Yes, it would be a pretty sum to be sure! If they got th»ough it on their savings they would do well but she believed that the end would be, that they would find themselves head over heels in debt, and they need expect no assistance from his family, for none ot them were rich enough to pay for sickness at home

One evening Madame /.orilleux was malicious enough to say And your shop, when do you take it The Contierge is waiting to know what you mean to do.

Gervaise gasoed. She had utterly forgotten the shop". She saw the delight df these people when they believed that this plan was given up, and from that day they never lost an occasion of twitting her, on her dream that had toppled over like a house of cards, and she grew morbid, and fiheied they were pleased at the accident to their brother which had prevented the realization of their plan*.

She tried to laugh, and to show them she did not grudge the money that had been expended in the restoration of her

husband's

health. 'She did not withdraw

ill her savings from the bank at once, for she had a vague hope that some miracle would intervene which'would render the sacrifice unnecessary.

Was it notgr^at conifort, sher said to herself and V* h^r enemies, for'as such she half begurt

TO

regard the Lorilleux,

that she had this money npw to turn tc^ in this eiiiergepfcy. Her neighbor* tiest door had been very kind and thoughtful to Getvaise all through her trouble1 and the illness bf her husbanu.

t!

Madame €»ouj$t nevfii^ went out With-' out coming taipmiire "If there Was anything she coula jgo. any commission she cduld execute! ^Slie brought innumerable bowls of soup, and even when Gervaise was particularly busy washed her dishes for her. Goujet filled heir bucket® every morning with fresh water, and this was an economy of at least two sous, and in ihe evening came to sit with Coupeau. He did not say much but his companionship cheered and comforted the invalid. He was tender aud compassionate, and was thrilled by lWe sweetness of Gervaise's

Voice when she spoke to her hus­

band Never had he teen such a brave good wonyin he did not believe she sit „vt

in her chair fifteen minutes in the wholeday—she was never tired—never out of temper, and the young man grew very fond of the i«oor woman as he watched* her. t'"

His mother had found a wife for him. A giri whose trade was the same as her: own, a lace mender, and as be did not: wish to go contrary to her desires he consented that the marriage should taker place in September.

But when Gervaise spake of hts fnturehe shook his head. 1 "Ail women are not like you, Mad-si: ame Coupeau,"he said, If ihey werei I should like ten wives.

At the end of two months Coopeau* was on his feet again, and could move —with difficulty of course—as far as the window, where he sat with his leg on a*-' chair. The poor fellow was sadly shaken by his accident. He was no* philosopher, and he swore from morning^ until night, tie said he knew every V, craek in the ceiling. When he wa6 installed in his arm chair it was little bet- -f' ter. "How long," he asked impatiently, "was he expected to sit there swathed like a mummj And he cursed his ill luck. His accident wan' a cursed shame.! If his head had been disturbed by drink it' would have been different, but he waaralways sober, and this was the result. He saw no sense in the whole thing! "My father," he said, "broke his neck.? I don't say he deserved it, but I do say there was a reason for it. But 1 had not drank a drop, and yet over I went, just because I spoke to my child! If there be, a a Father in Heaven "as they say, whowatches over us all, I must »ay He manages things strangely enough hjrae-f.1 times!"

And as his strength returned, his trade grew strangely distasteful to him. It was. a miserable business he said, roaming along gutters like a cat. In his opinion^' there should be a law which should' compel every house-owner to tin his own roof. He wished he knew some other trade he could follow, something that was less dangerous.

For two months Coupeau walked with a crutch, and atter a while was able to get into the street and then to the outer Boulevard,where he sat on a bench in the sunJ His gayety returned, he laughed again, and er.joyed doing nothing. For the fir9t time in his life he felt thoroughly lazy, and indolence seemed to have taken possession of his whole being. When he got rid of his crutches he sauntered about and watched the buildings which were in the process of construction in the vicinity, and he jested with the men and indulged himself in a general abuse cf work. Of course he intended to begin again as soon as he waa quite: well, hut at present the mere thought^ made him feel ill, he said,

In the afternoons Coupeau often "went', to his 6ister's apartment she expressed a great deal of compassion for him and showed him every attention. When he was first married, he had escaped Irom^ her influence, thanks to his affection for his wife, and her's for him. Now he fell under her thumb again they brought him back by declaring that he lived in mortal terror of his wife. But the Lor-# illeux were too wise to disparage her openly, on the contrary they praised her--extravagantly, and he told his wife that they adored her, and begged her in her turn to be just to them.

The first quarrel in their h'jme arose on the subject of Etienne. Coupeau had" been with his sister. He came in late? and found the children fretting for their dinner. He cuffed Etienne'8 ears, badehim hold his tongue, and scolded for an hoqr. He was sure he did not know." why he let that boy stay in the honse,he', wa* none of his until that day, he hadv accepted the child as a matter of course.

Three days after this he gave the boy|s a kick, and it was not long before thefe child when he heard him coming, ran into the Goujets', where there ivas always a corner at the table for him.

Gervaise had long since resumed her* work. Sue no longer lifted the globe of her clock to take out her bank book, her saving were all gone, and it was neces-: sary to count the sou* pretty closely, for" there were four mouths to feed, and they1were alt dependent on the work of her two hands. When any oiie found fault" with C,oupeauand blamed him, she always took his pirt. "Think how much he has suffered,"! she said, with tears in her eyes. Think ot the shock to his nerves, wh can wonder that he is a little sour? Wait awhile though, untH he is perfectly well, and' you will see that his temper will be as sweet as it river was."

And if anyone ventured *o obse^fe that he seemed quite well, and tt*t her ought to go to work, she would*JRt&im:^ "No indeed, not yet. It would never do." She did not want him down in his: bed. She knew what the doctor hadM said, and 6he every day begged him tor taiie "his own time. She even slipped a. little silver into his vest pocket. All this Coupeau acceptod as a matter ef course. He complained cf all sorts of* pains and aches to gain a little longer period of indolence, and at the end of six months had begun to look upon himself as a confirmed invalid.

He almost daily dropped into a wine 6hop with a friend—it was a place where he could chat a little, and where was the harm? Besides who had ever heard oF a glass of wine killing a than. But heswore to himself that lie would never touch anything but wine—not a drop of brandy should pass his lips. Wine was. good for 90c—prolonged one's life, aided the digestion—but brandy was a very different matter. Notwithstanding these wiae resolutions, it Came to pass mores than oace that he cams in, after visiting a dozen different cabaret*, decidedly tipsy. On these occasions, Gervaise? locked hd/dfodrs and declared that she waifill, to prevent the Goujets from seeingherhdWfcnd. woman was growing very sad. .E*ery wight and morning sher passfed the «ht»p for which she had so ardently longed She made her calculations, over and over again until her brain was dizzy. Two hundr&i a*i& jiuy francs! rent—one hundred and fifty for movingf and tnfe apparatus, she needed—one hun--dred francs to keep things going until business began to come: in. No, it could npt be donejundt?, five hundred francs., .She said nothing of this to any one# deterged only"(by seeming to regret the| money $h? had spent for her husband! during lys. illne8s. She was pale and! dispirited at the thought that she must

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