Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 6 November 1879 — Page 2

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and ears only for the landlord, who ok hands wi^h his new tenants but when they spoke of repairs, professed to be in such haste that morning, that it would be necessary to postpone the discussion, They reminded htm of certain verbal promises he had made, and finally he consented to examine the premises.

The shop stood with its four bare walla and blackened ceiling. The tenant who liad been there had taken away his own counters and cases. A furious discussion took place. Monsieur Marescot said it was for thera to embellish the shop. "That may be," said Gervaise gently "but surely you cannot call putting on a fresh paper, instead of this that hangs in strips, an embellishment. Whitening he curbing, too, comes under the Iwaa of necessary repairs.' She only required tSiese two things.

Finally Marescotf with a desperate air, plunged his hands deep in his pockets, shrugged his shoulders, and gave his consent to the repair* on the ceiling, and to the paper, on condition ,that she would pay tor half the paper—and then he hurriedaway-

When he had departed, Boche clapped Coupeau on the shoulder* "you may thank me for thail" he cried, and then mcnt on to say that he was the real master of the house—that he settled: the whole business of the establishment, and it was a nod and look from him that had influenced .Monsieur Marescot That evening, Gervaise, considering themselves in debt to Boche, sent him some wine.

ID four days the shop should have been ready for them but the repairs hung on for three weeks. At first they intended simply to have the paint scrubbed but it wss so shabby and wont, that Gervaise repainted at her own expense. Coupeau went every -morning, not to work, but to inspect operations and Boche dropped the vest or pantaloons on which be was working, and gave the benefit of his advice, and the two men spent the whole day smoking and spitting, and arguing over each stroke of the brush. Some days the painters did not appear at all on others they dame and walked off in an hour's time, not to mturn again.

Poor Gervaise wrung her hands in despair. But finally, after two days of energetic labor, the whole thing wag dpoe, and the men walked off with their ladders, singing lustily.

Then came the moving, add finally Gervaise called herself settled in her new home, and was pleased as a child.

As she came up the street she could see her sign afar off.

L.'WSS I If.

The Boche couple, on the first of April, au/ved also, and toc^t the log* of the

rOr.

eal house in la Rue de la Goutte Things had turned out very nicely for Gervaise who, having always got on very comfortably with the Concierge in the*house in Rue Neuve, dreaded lest •he should fall into the power of sqme tyrant who Would quarrel oyer every drop of water that was spilled, «pd a tbou«aod other trifles like that. But with Madame Boche, all would go smoothly.

WRENCH OP

EMILE ZOLA.

AVTHOR or "HBLENE OR, UKB PAGE D'AMOUR," "ras ABBR'S TEMPTATION OR LA PAUTR DC L'ABBF. MOURET," BTC.

GKRVAISE.

CHAPTER |V.

AMBITIOUS DREAMS.

be signed, new home, She was

The day the lease #as to and Gervaise stood in her her heart swelled with joy. finally to live in that house, like a small town, with its intersecting corridors, instead of streets.

She felt a strange timidity—a dread of failure—-when she found herself face to face with her enterprise* The struggle for bread was a terrible and an increasing one, and it teemed to tier for a mo meat that she had been guilty of a wild, foolhardy act—like throwing herself into the jaws o( a machine for the planes in the cabinet-maker's shop and the hammers in the locksmith's were dimly grasped by her as a pftrt of a great whole.

The water that ran past the door that day from the dyer's was pale green. She smiled as she stepped over it, accepting this color as a happy augury. She, with her husband, entered the loge, where Madame Boche and the owner of the building, Monsieur Mare scot, were talking oo business.

Gervaise, -with a thrill of pain, heard Boche advise the landlord to turn out the dress-maker on the third floor, who was behind-hand with her rent. She wondered again at the attitude assumed by these Boche people, who did not seem to have ever seen her before. They had

***&&&

I *jl

UU CLEAR ST ARC HER. LACKS

AND

EMBROIDERIK

A»ONB

CP WITH ESPECIAL CARS.

The two first words were painted in huge yellow letters on a pale blue ground.

In the recessed window, shut in at the back by muslin curtains, lay men's shirts, delicate handkerchiefs and cuffs—all these were on blue paper, and Gervaise was charmed. When she entered the door all was blue there the paper presented a golden trellis and blue morning glories. In the center was a huge table draped with blue bordered cretonne, to bide the trestles.

Gervaise seated herself and loooked round, happy in the cleanliness of all about her. Her first glance, however, was directed to her stove, a sort of furnace whereon ten irons could be heated aft once. It was a source of constant anxiety lest her little apprentice should fill it too full of coal, and so injure it. %Behind the shop was her bed room and

.*•

ri

kitchen, from which a door opened into the court. N ana's bed stood in a little room at the right, and ECenne was co.n pelled to share his with the baskets of soiled clothes. It was all very well except that the place was very damp, and that it was dark by three o'clock in the afternoon in winter.

The new shop created a great excite ment in the neighborhood. Some people declared that the Coupe&us were on the road to ruin, they had in fact spent the whole five hundred, and were penniless contrary to their intentions. The morning that Gervaise first took down her shutter, she had only six francs in the world, but she was not troubled, and at the end of a week she told her husband after two hours of abstruse calculations, at they had taken in enough to cover their expenses.

The Lorilleux were in a state of rage and one morning when the apprentice was emptying on the sly, a bowl of starch which she had burned in making, just as Madame Lorilleux wa6 passing she rushed in and accused her sibter-in-|aw ot insulting her. After this all friendly relations were at an end.

It. all looks very strange to me,"sniffed Madame Lorilleux I can't tell where the money comes from, but I have my suspicions," and she went on to intimate that Gervaise and Goujet were altogether too intimate. This was the groundwork of many fables she said Wooden Legs werse'so mild and sweet that she had deceived to the extent that she had consented to become Nsna's god mother, which had been no small expense but now things were very different. If Gervaise were dying and asked for a glass of water she would not give it. She could not stand snch people. As to Nana it was different they would always receive her the child, of course, was not responsible for her mother's crime. Coupeau should take a more decided stand, and not out up with his wife's vile conduct.

Boche and his wife sat in judgment on the quarrel, fcnd gave as their opinion that the Lorilleux were very much to blame. They were good tenants, of course. They paid regularly. Bat," added Madame Boche, "I never couid abide jealously. They are mean people and were never known to offer a glass of wine to a friend.

Mother Coupeau visited her son and daughter successive days, listened to the tales of each, and said never a word in reply.

Gervaise lived a busy life and took no notice of all this foolish gossip and strife. She greeted her friends with a smile from the door of her shop, where she went for a breath of fresh air. AH the people in the neighborhood liked her, and would have called her a great beauty but for her lameness. She was twentyeight and had grown plump. She moved more slowly, and when she took a chair to wait for her irons to heat, she rose with reluctance. She was growing fond of good living, that:she herself, admitted, but she did not regard it as a fault. She worked hard and had a right to good food. Why should she live,on potatoparings. Sometimes she worked all night when she had a great deal Of Work on hand.

She did the washing for the whole house and for some Parisan ladies, and had several apprentices, besides two laundresses Slue was making money hand over fist, and her good lqck would have turned, a wiser head than her own. But hers was not turned she was gentle and sweet, and hated no one except her sister-in-law. Shd judged everybody kindly, particularly after she had eaten a good breakfast. When people called her good she laughed. Why should she not be good? She had seen all her dreams realised. She remembered what she Once said— that she wanted to work hard, have pleanty to'eat—a home to herself, where she could bring up her children—AOtbe beaten, and die in her bed I As to dying in her bed, she added—she wanted that still, but she would put it off as long as possible, "if you please!" It was to Coupeau himself that Gervaise was especially sweet. Never across nor an impatient Word had he heard from her lips, and ho one had ever known her complain of him behind his back. He had finally resumed his trad*, and the shop Where he Worked was at the other end of Paris, she gave him eyery morning forty sous for his breakfitst, his Wine and tobacco. Two days out of six, however, Coupeau would meet a friend, drink up his forty sous, and return to breakfast. Once, indeed, he sent a note, saying that his account at the cabaret exceeded his forty sous—he was in pledge, as it were —would his wife send the money? She laughed and shrugged tier shoulders. Where mas the harm in her husband's amusing himself a little? A woman must give a man.'a long fdpe if. she Wished to live in peace and comfort. It was not far from words to blows—she knew that very well.

The hot weather had come. One afternoon in June the ten irons were heating on the stove, the door was open into the street, but not a breath of air dime in. y-' "What'a'taeltlng day,"r Said Ge^Vaise, who was stooping over a great bowl of starch. She had rolled up her sleeves and taken off her iftcque, and stood in her chemise and white skirt the soft hair in her neck was curling on her white throat. She dipped each cufT in (be starch, the front* of the shirts and the Whale of the skirts. Then she rolled up the pieces tightly and placed them neatly in a square basket, after having sprinkled

THE tERRE HAUTE

Til

1

1,111

^Rh titer all Ataeefortiom that ware tMstartfed. 'Thtil basket is for yon, Madame Pit tOis,"'*hesaid "and you will havo-tp3 hurry, for they dry so fast in this weajber."

Madame Putois was a thin little wdman, who looked cool and comfortable in her tightly buttoned dress. She had taken her cap off, but stood at the table moving her irons to and fro with the reg ularity of an automanlon. Suddenly ehe exclaimed: "Put on vour sacque, Clemence there are three men looking in, and I don't like such thin#*."

Clemence grumbled and growled. What did she care what she liked? She could not *nd would not roa6t to suit anybody. "Clemerice, put on your sacque," said Gervaise "Madame Putois is right—it is not proper."

Clemence muttered, but obeyed, and consoled herself by giving the apprentice who was ironing hose and towels by her side, a little push. Get vaise had a cap belonging to Midame Boche in her hand, and was ironing the crown with around ball, when a tall bony woman came is. She was a laundress. "You have come too soon, Madame Bijard cried Gervaise "I said tonight It is very inconvenient for me to attend to you at this hour." At the same time, however, Gervaise amiably laid down her work and went for the dirty clothes, which she piled up in the back shop. It took the two women nearly an hour to sort them and mark them with a stitch of colored cotton.

At this moment Coupeau entered^ j} "By Jove he said "the, sun beats down on one's head like a hammer." He caught at the table to sustain himself he had been drinking—a spider's web had caught in his dark hair, where many a white thread was apparent. His under jaw dropped a little, and his smile was good-natured but silly.

Gervaise asked her husband if he had 6een the Lorilleux, in rather a severe tone when he said no, she smiled at hitn without a word of reproach. '•You had best go and lie down" she said pleasantly, "we are very busy and you ars in our way. Did I say thirtytwo handkerchiefs, Madame Bijird Here are two more, that makes thirtyfour."

But Coupeau Was not sleepy and he preferred to remain where ne was Gervaise called Clemence and bade her to count the linen while she made out the list. She glanced at each piece as she wrote. She knew many of them by the color. That pillow-slip belonged to Madame Boche because it was stained with the pomade she always used, and so on through the whole. Gervaise was seated with these piles of soiled liaen about her. Augustine, whose great delight was to fill up the stove had done so now, and it was red hoi. Coupeau leaned toward Gervaise. 'Kiss me," he said. "You are a good woman."

As he spoke he gave a sudden lurch and fell among the skirts •Do take cafe said Gervaise impatiently) "you Will g-t them all mixed again," and she gave him a little push with her foot whereat all the othei women cried out. "He is cot like most men" said Madame Putois, "they generally wish to beat you when they come in like this."

Gervaise already regretted her momentary vexation and assisted her busband to hi* feet and then turned her cheek to him with a smi'e, but he put his arm round her and kiised her neck. She pushed him aside with a laugh. tn "You ought to be ashamed she said, but yielded to his embrace, and the long kiss they exchanged before these people, amid the sickening odor of the soiled linen, and the alcoholic fumes of his breath, was the first downward step in the slow descent of their degradation.

Madame Bijard tied up the linen and staggered off under their weight while Gervaise turned back to finish her cap Alas! the stove and the irons were alike red hot she must waitaquatter of an hour before she cduld touch the irons and Gervaise covered the fire with a couple of shovel ful* of cinders. She then hung a shiet before t$»e window, to keep out the still Coupeau took a place in the corner, refilling to budge an inch, and his jtfife and all her assistants went to workj on each side of the square table Each woman had at her right a flat brick' on which to set her'irOn In 'he center of the table wait a dish of water with a rag and brufh in it, and also a bunch of tali white lilies in a broken jar.

Madame Putois had attacked (he bias* ket of linen prepared by Gervaise, aijd Augustine was ironing her towels, With her nose in the air, deeply interested in a fly that was buzzing about. As to Clemence she was polishing off her thirtyfifth shirt a« she boasted of this great feat, Coupeiu staggered toward her "Madame," she called, "please Keep him away, he will bother me and I shall scorch my hi t" 'Let her be," said Gervaise, without any esppcial energy, "we are in a great hurrv io^day!"

Well! that was not his fault, he did not mean to touch the girl, he 'drily Wanted to see what she was about. "Really," said hi} wife, looking up from her fluting iron. "I think you had best go to bed."

He began to talk again. "You need not make such a fuM, Clemence, it is only because these women are here, and

But he could say no more, Gervaise quietly laid one hand on his mouth and tne other on his shoulder and pushed him toward his room. He struggled a little, and with a 6illy laugh askfd if Clemence was not coming too.

Gervaise undressed her husband and tucked him up in bed as if he Had been a child, and then returned to her fluting iron in time to still a grand dispute that was going on about an iron that had not been properly cleaned.

In the profound silence that followed her aopearance, she could hear her husband's thick Voice.

What a silly wife I've got! The idea of potting me to bed in broad daylight!" Suddenly he began to snore, and Gervaise uttered a sijjn of relief. She used her fluting iron for a minute, ani then said quietly: "There is no need ot being offended by anything a man does when he is in thu state. He is not an accountable being. He did not intend to insott'yon. Clem-

WEEKLY GAZEhPPk

*K*,*«i|now Wtuft* tipe* m«i|ief*4* ilaiiiufi iirtt* rr fsthfrir nrw iii~rth|r" ShfsMtered these Wdrd# in pn Wil»-4nVafctffar-of-fact way, nott* t!» leant disturbed that he had forgotten the- respect due to her and to her roof, and really seeing no harm in his conduct.

The work now went steadily on, and Gervaise calculated they would have finished by eleven o'clock. The heat was intense— the smell of charcoal deadened the air while the branch of white lilies slowly faded, and filled the room with their sweetness.

The day after all this, Coupeau had frightful headache, and did not rise until late—too late to go to hit work. About noon he began to feel better, and toward evening was quite himself. His wife gave him some silver, and told him to go out and take the air, which meant with him, taking some wine.

One glass washed down another, but he came home as gay at a lark, and quite disgusted with the men he had seen who were drinking themselves to death. "Where is your lover?" he said to his

wife,

as he entered the shop. This was his favorite joke. "I never Pee him now adays, and must hunt him up."

He meant Goujet, who came but rarely, lest the gossips in the neighborhood should take it upon themselves to gabble. Cnce in about ten days he made his ap pearance in the evening, and installed himself in a corner in the back shop, with his pipe. He rarely spoke, but laughed at all Gervaise said.

On Saturday evenings the establishment was kept open half the night. A lamp hung from the ceiling, with the light thrown down by a shade. The shutters were put up at the usual time, but as the nights were very warm, the door was left open and as the hours wore on, the women pulled their jackets open a little more at the throat, and he sat in his corner and looked on as if he were at a theatre.

The silence of the street was broken by a passing carriage. Two o'clock struck—r.o longer a sound from outside. At half-past two a man hurried past the door, carrying with him a vision of flying arms, piles of white linen, and a glow of yellow light.

Goujet, wishing to save Elienne from Coupeau's rough treatment, had taken him to the place where he was employed, to blow the bellows, with the" prospect of becoming an -apprentice as soon as he was old-enough and Etienne thus became another tie between the clear starchier and the blacksmith.

All their little world laughed, and told Gervaise that her friend worshipped the very ground she trod upon. She colored and looked like a girl of sixteen. "Dear boy," she said to herself, "I know he loves me but never has he said, or will he say, a word of the kind tome!" And she was proud of being loved in this way. When she was disturbed about anything, her first thought was to go to him. When by chance they were left alone together, they were never disturbed by wondering if their friendship verged on love. There was no harmi- In such affection.

Nana was now six years old and a moat' troublesome little sprite. Her mother took her every morning to a school in la Rue Polonceau, to a certain Mademoiselle Josse. Here 6he did all manner ef mischief. She put ashes into the teacher's snuff box, pinned the skirts of her companions together. Twice the young lady was sent home in disgrace, and then taken back again for the sake of the six francs each month. As soon as the school hours were oyer, Nana revenged herself for the hours^ of enforced quiet she had passed, by making the most frightful din in the courtyard and the shop.

She found able allies in Pauline and Victor Boche. The whole great house resounded with the most extraordinary r.oises. The thumps of children falling down Stairs, little feet teiring Up one stair-case and down another and burst ing out on the sidewalk like a band.of pilfering, impudent sparrows.

Madame Gaudron alone had ninedirty, unwashed and uttkeioipt—their stockings hanging over their snoes tad the slits in their garments showing the white skin beneath. Another womaij on the fifth floor had seven, and they c4«ue out in twos and threes.from all 'the rooms. Nana reigned ovef this band, among which there1 weirfe Spme halfgrown and ot^rs mere itifianta. Her prime ministei's were Pauline and Victor to them she delegated a little of her autfiority, while' she played matttbia— undressed the youngest only to dress thetai again^-cuffed them and punished then! at tier, own sweet will, atid withjth* most fantastic disposition. The barid pr fenced and waded through the gutter that ran from th* dye-hou«e and emerged with blue or green legs. Nana decorated herself and the others with shavings from the cabinet makers, which they stole from under the very noles of the work-

The courtyard belonged to all these children apparently, and resounded with the clatter of their heelr. Sometimes this courtyard, however, was'no: enotigh for them, and they spread in.every direction to the infinite disgust of Madame Boche, who grumbled al! in Vain. Boche declared that the children of the poor were as plentiful as mushrooms on a duagheap, and his wife threatened them with her broom.

One day there was a terrible scene. Nana had invented a beauiiftll game. She had stolen a wooden shoe belonging to Madame Boche she bored a hole in it and put in aitring, bv which she could draw it like cart. Victor filled it with apple-paring* and they started forth in a procession, Nana drawing the rhoe in front, followed by the whole flpek, little and big, an imp about the height of a cigar box at the end. .They all sang a melancholy ditty full oi"ahV afcd "oh's." Nana declared this to be always,the,custom at funerals. ,j i\ "What on earth are they doing now?" murmered Madame Boche suspiciously, and then she came to the door and re 4 "Good heave*#*!* she cried it is "lay own shoe they have got."

She slappecrNana, cuffed Pauline aad shook Vfctor. Gervaise was filling a bucket at the fountain, and when she saw

Nana with her nose Weeding, she rushed toward the Concierge, and asked how she dared strike her child.

The Concierge replied that any one who bad a child like that, had best keep her under lock and key The end of this I not

Madame

ttaMlfcouHi, a hreaftftM|wefii Nffcely cwgi»^ ^amof t^^hTSaJtbtaMirel had beet^ fltfa«0en«%jwalked

lofiture,! Boche people, in fhfc habit of ing them constant presents—oranges, a little hot soup, a cale, or something or the kind. One evening, knowing that the Concierge would eell her soul for a good salad, she took her the remains of a dish of beetn and chicory The next day she was dumbfounded at hearing from Mademoiselle Retnanjon, how

Boche had thrown the salad

away, saying she was not reduced to eat ing the leavings of other people I From that day forth, Gervaise sent her nothing more. The Boches had learned to look on her little offerings a* their right, and they now felt themselves being robbed by the Coupeaus.

It was not long before Gervaise real ized that she had made a mistake—for when she was one day late wittrher Oc tober rent, Madame Boche complained to the proprietor, who came blustering to her shop with his hat on. Of course, too, the Lorilleux extended the right hand of fellowship at (Mice to the Boche people.

There came a day, however, when Gervaise found it necessary to call upon the Lorilleux. It was on Mamma Coupeau's account, who was sixty-seven years old, nearly blind and helpless. They must all unite in doing something for her now. Gervaise thought it a burning shame that a woman of her age, with three well-to-do children, sliould be allowed for a moment to regard herself as friendless and forsaken. And rs her husband refused to speak to his sister, Gervaise said she would.

She entered the room like a whirlwind, without knocking. Everything was just the same as it was on that night when she had been received by them in a fashion which she had never forgotten nor forgiven.

ttI

have come," cried Gervaise,

"and I dare say you wish to know why, particularly as we are at daggers-drawn. Well! then, have come on Mamma Coupeau's account. I have come to ask if we are to allow her to beg from door to door—" "Indeed!" said Madame Lorilleux, with a sneiir, and she turned away. i| j.

But Lorilleux lifted his pale face.What do you mean?" he asked, and as he had understood perfectly, he went

What is this cry of poverty about? The old lady ate her dinner with us yesterday. We do all we can for her, I am sure. We have not the mines of Peru within our reach, but if she thinks she is to run to and fro between our houses,she is much mistaken. I, for one have no liking for spies." He then added, as he took up his microscope, When the rest of you agree to give five franes per month toward her support, we will do the same." Gervaise was calmer now—these people always chilled the very marrow in her bones—and she went on to explain her views. Five francs were not enough for each of the old lady's children to pay She could not live on fifteen francs per manth. "And why not?"cried Lorilleux, ane ought to do so. She can see well enough to fliid the best bits' in a dfsh before her, and she can do something toward her own maintenance." If he had the means to indulge such laziness he should hot consider it his duty to do So, he added.

Then Gervaise grew ar.gry again. She looked at her sister-in-law, and saw ^er face set in vindictive firmness. "Keep your money," she crfid. "I will take care of your mother. I found a starving cat in the street the other night and took it in. I can take in yur mother too. She shall want for nothihg. Good heavens, what people

Madame Lorilleux snatched bp a saucepan. "Clear out" she said, hoarsely. "I will never give one sou—no, not onejou toward her keep. I understand you! You will make my mother work for you £ke a slave, and put my fife franc in your pocket! Not if I know it, Madame! And if she goes to live under your nxif 1 will never see her agayi^. Be off with

^Wbata monster |*c»lS£ G^fe&iaa she shut the door with a baiw. On the very next.day, Madame Coupeau came to her. A laigebed wasbut in the room where Nana slept The moving did not take long, for the old li had only this hedt a wardrobe, table, two rtiairs. The table waa sold, and chairs new-seated and tbojaM lftdy evening of her arrival washed the du and swepit up the reem glad to mike herself useful. Madame Loral had amused herself by qttarreUing with her sister, to whom she had expressed hef admiration of the garterosity evinced Gervaise and when she Saw that Madame Lorilleux was .intensely exasperated, she declared she had never seen such eyes in anybody's head as thofd of the cl«»ar-6tarcher. She really believed one might light paper at them. This declaration naturally led to bitter words, and the sisters parted, swearing they would never see each other again and since that Madame Lerat had spent most of her evenings at her

hrotbersi,v

"Three years passed aWay.^. There were reconciliations and new qtfarrcls. Gervaise continued to be liked by her neighbors she paid her bills regularly, and was a good customer. When 'she went out she lecilHU cordial greeting on ail sides, and she waa more fond ot going out in these disys thaa of yore. She liked to loiter with her arms full of bundles at a neighbor!* .windqw,, and hear a little gossip.

CHAPTER VL

eot'jer AT Hie FORGE.

One autumnal afternoon Geryai§e,who had been to carry. a basket of clothes home to a customer who lived a good way off, found herself if) La Rue des Poissoniers just as .it was growing dark. It had rained in the morning, and the air was close and warm. She was tired with her walk, and felt a great desire for something gpod to eat Just then she lifted her eyes and seeing the name ef the street, she took it into her head that she would call on Goujet' at his forge. But she would ask for Etienne, she said to herself. She did not know the number, but she coUld find it# thoMpt She wandered along and stood bewildered, looking toward Montmartre all at once she heard the measured click of hammers—and concluded that she had •tumbled on the place at last She did know where the entrance to the

—works A little bor^ fi^lwne of Etienne ?w •. "Etienne! Etienne!+" fepekeJ the man, swaying from side to side. The wind brought from him to her an intolerable smell of brandy, which caused Ger^ vaise to draw bade, and say timidly "Is it here that Monsieur Goujet works?" "Ah Goujet, yesT If it is Goujet you wish to see, go to the left"

Gervaise obeyed his instructions and found herself in a large room, with the forge at the further end. She spoke tothe first man she saw, when suddenly the whole room was one blaze of light. The bellows had sent up leaping flanges which lighted every crevice and' corner of the dustv old building, .and Gervaise recognized Goujet before the forge, with two other men. She went toward him.

Madame Gervaise he exclaimed in surprise, his face radiant with joy, and thenKfeinghis comjMMtoi^s laugh and wink, he .pushed Etienne toward "ftis mother. •'You cafae toeee your boy," he said "he does his duty like a hero.'* "I am glad of it," she answered "but what an awful place this is to get at!"

And she described her iourney as she called it, and then faked why no one seemed to know Etienne there. "Because," said the blacksmith, "he is called Zou Zou here, aa tifs hair is cut as short as a Zouave's."

The visit paid by Gervaise to tile Forge was only the first of many others. She often went on Saturdays when she carried the clean linen to Madame Goujet, who stHl resided in the same" house as before. The first year GeryaUe had paid them twenty fraacs each month, or rather the difference between the amount of their washing, seven or eight francs, and the twenty which she agreed upon. In this way she had paid half the money she had borrowed, when one quarter-day, not knowing to Whom to turn, as she had not been able to collect her bills Punctually, she ran to the Goujets and borrowed the amount of her rent from them. Twice sine she had asked a similar favor, so that the amount of her indebtedness now stood at four hundred and twenty-five francs.

Now she no longer paid any easily bat did their washing. It was not that she worked less cor that her business was falling off. Qyitethe contrary but money had a way of melting away in her hands, and she was content nowadays if she could only make both ends meet. What was the use of fussing, she thought? If she could manage to live that was all that was necessary. She was growing quite stout withal.

Madame Goujet was always kind to Gervaise not because of any fear of losing her money, but because she really loved her, and was afraid of her going wrong in some way.

The Saturday after the first visit paid, by Gervaise tqthe Forge* was afto the first of the moftth. Wheh she reached Madame GoujeHii her basket was so heavy that slpe panted two minutes before she could speak. Every one' knows how heavy shirts and such things are. "Have you brought everything?" asked Madame Goujet, who was very exacting On this point. She insisted on every. piece being returned each week. Another thing she exacted was that the clathes should be brought back always on the same day and hour. "Everything is here," answered Gervaise with a smile, "you know I never leave anything behind." "That is true" replied the elder woman. "You have many faults my dear but not that one yet'"

,S:J

And while the laundress emptied her basket, laying the linen on the bed, Madame Goujet paid her tyany compliments. She never burned her clothes, nor ironed off the button#, nor tore them but ahe did use trifle too much blueing and made her shirts top stiff. .. "Feel," she said, "it is like pasteboard. My son never complains, but I know he does riot like them ed." "Aodthay shall notbe so again," skid Gervaise. "No one ever touches any of vour thing* but myself and I would do them over ten times rather than see you dissaftiarted.'*

She colored as she spoke. ii r-i/t "Ihava no intention of disparaging, your work," answend Madame Goujet "L never e«W any onewftodid up laces, and fembsoideries at ya*dp, aad theflutuhgifc simpl? perfect the only trouble is rf little too much starch, mv dear. Goujet does not care to look like a fine gentleman lift

She took upk Her book and drew g. pen through the pieces as she spoke. Everthlog was ther^. She brou|ht out the bundle of soiled clothes. Gervaisepnt them in her basket and hesitated"Madame Goujet," she faid,. at last, "if you do not mind, shduM like to have money for this wedrtLWaah."

The account this month was larger than usual, fen francs and over, MadamoGoujet looked at her gravely. l"My child," she said, slowly, "it shall, be as you hrish. I do not refuse to give you the money if you desire it only this, is hot the way to get out of debt savthis with no unkindnesa, you understand# Only you must take chre."

Gervaise, with downcast eyes, received the lesson meekly. "She needed the ten francs to complete the amount due the coal merchant,' she said.

But her friend heard this with a stern countenance, and told her she should reduce her expenses but she did not add that she, too, intended to do the same, and that in future she should do her washing herself, as she had formerly done, if she were to be out oi pocket thus.

When Gervaise was on (the staircase her heart waa light for she cared little for the reproof now that she had the ten francs in her hand ahe was becoming accustomed to paying one debt by contracting another. v-f

Midway on the stair* she met a tall* woman coming up with afresh mackerel in her hand, and behold! it waa Virgtnie, the girl whom she had whipped in the Lavatory. The two looked each other full in the face. Gervaise instinctively closed her eyea, for ahe thought the girl would slap her in the face with the mackerel. But no Virginie gave a constrained smile Then the laundress! whose huge basket filled up the stairway,'

CsaUaaed 9a Third rage*