L'Assommoir by Émile Zola
page 92 of 351 (26%)
page 92 of 351 (26%)
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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." |
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