mirror, he seemed to examine her arms and shoulders, as if instituting
a comparison between herself and someone else. And he smiled a
disdainful little smile.

Gervaise was slightly, very slightly, lame, but her lameness was
perceptible, only on such days as she was very tired. This morning,
so weary was she from the watches of the night, that she could hardly
walk without support.

A profound silence reigned in the room; they did not speak to each
other. He seemed to be waiting for something. She, adopting an
unconcerned air, seemed to be in haste.

She made up a bundle of soiled linen that had been thrown into a
corner behind the trunk, and then he spoke:

"What are you doing? Are you going out?"

At first she did not reply. Then when he angrily repeated the question
she answered:

"Certainly I am. I am going to wash all these things. The children
cannot live in dirt."

He threw two or three handkerchiefs toward her, and after another long
silence he said:

"Have you any money?"

She quickly rose to her feet and turned toward him; in her hand she