hands abandoned on her lap, when Lantier quietly entered the room.

"It's you! It's you!" she cried, rising to throw herself upon his neck.

"Yes, it's me. What of it?" he replied. "You are not going to begin any
of your nonsense, I hope!"

He had pushed her aside. Then, with a gesture of ill-humor he threw
his black felt hat to the chest of drawers. He was a young fellow of
twenty-six years of age, short and very dark, with a handsome figure,
and slight moustaches which his hand was always mechanically twirling.
He wore a workman's overalls and an old soiled overcoat, which he
had belted tightly at the waist, and he spoke with a strong Provencal
accent.

Gervaise, who had fallen back on her chair, gently complained, in
short sentences: "I've not had a wink of sleep. I feared some harm had
happened to you. Where have you been? Where did you spend the night? For
heaven's sake! Don't do it again, or I shall go crazy. Tell me Auguste,
where have you been?"

"Where I had business, of course," he returned shrugging his shoulders.
"At eight o'clock, I was at La Glaciere, with my friend who is to start
a hat factory. We sat talking late, so I preferred to sleep there. Now,
you know, I don't like being spied upon, so just shut up!"

The young woman recommenced sobbing. The loud voices and the rough
movements of Lantier, who upset the chairs, had awakened the children.
They sat up in bed, half naked, disentangling their hair with their tiny
hands, and, hearing their mother weep, they uttered terrible screams,