rolling the handle of her knife between her bony fingers, and Mme
Fauconnier complained loudly of one of her apprentices who the night
before had badly scorched a pair of linen sheets.

"It is no use to talk!" cried Lorilleux, striking his fist on the
table. "Gold is gold!"

A profound silence followed the utterance of this truism, amid which
arose from the other end of the table the piping tones of Mlle
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 Mes-Bottes, whose jaws worked
steadily, like machinery.

He did not listen, but he nodded at intervals, with his eyes fixed
on the _garcons_ to see that they carried away no dishes 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
was growing very warm; the sun was lingering on the tops of the
acacias, but the room was growing dark. The men threw off their coats
and ate in their shirt sleeves.

"Mme Boche," cried Gervaise, "please don't let those children eat
so much."