 Section 56 of La Samoire. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Martin Geeson. La Samoire by Emile Zola. Translated by Ernest A. Visitelli. Third part of Chapter 12. However, nobody has yet left the zinc works. But presently one workman appeared, then two, and then three. But these were no doubt decent fellows who took their pay home regularly, for they jerked their heads significantly as they saw the shadows wandering up and down. The tall creature stuck closer than ever to the side of the door, and suddenly fell upon a pale little man who was prudently poking his head out. Oh, it was soon settled. She searched him and collared his coin. Caught no more money, not even enough to pay for a dram. Then the little man, looking very vexed and cast down, followed his gendarm, weeping like a child. The workman was still coming out, and as the fat mother with the two brats approached the door, a tall fellow with a cunning look who noticed her went hastily inside again to warn her husband. And when the latter arrived, he had stuffed a couple of cartwheels away, two beautiful new five-frank pieces worn in each of his shoes. He took one of the brats on his arm and went off telling a variety of lies to his old woman who was complaining. There were other workmen, also mournful-looking fellows, who carried in their clinched fists the pay for the three or five days' work they had done during a fortnight, who reproached themselves with their own laziness and took drunkard's oaths. But the saddest thing of all was the grief of the dark little woman with the humble, delicate look. Her husband, a handsome fellow, took himself off under her very nose and so brutally indeed that he almost knocked her down. And she went home alone, stumbling past the shops and weeping all the tears in her body. At last the defile finished. Gervais, who stood erect in the middle of the street, was still watching the door. The lookout seemed a bad one. A couple of workmen who were late appeared on the threshold, but there were still no signs of Coupeau. And when she asked the workmen if Coupeau wasn't coming, they answered her being up to snuff that he had gone off by the back door with l'anti mèche. Gervais understood what this meant, another of Coupeau's lies. She could whistle for him she liked. Then shuffling along in her worn-out shoes, she went slowly down the rue de la Charbonnière. The dinner was going off in front of her and she shuddered as she saw it running away in the yellow twilight. This time it was all over, not a copper, not a hope, nothing but night and hunger. Ah, fine night to kick the bucket, this dirty night which was falling over her shoulders. She was walking heavily up the rue de Poissonnier when she suddenly heard Coupeau's voice. Yes, he was there in the little civet letting my boots treat him. That comical chap my boots had been cunning enough at the end of last summer to espouse in authentic fashion a lady who, although rather advanced in years, had still preserved considerable traces of beauty. She was a lady of the evening of the rue de Martyr, none of your common street houses. And you should have seen this fortunate mortal looking like a man of means with his hands in his pockets well clad and well fed. He could hardly be recognised so fatally grown. His comrade said that his wife had as much work as she liked among the gentlemen of her acquaintance. A wife like that and a country house is all one can wish for to embellish one's life. And so Coupeau squinted admiringly at my boots. The lucky dog even had a gold ring on his little finger. Chervais touched Coupeau on the shoulder just as he was coming out of the little civet. Say, I'm waiting. I'm hungry. I've got an empty stomach which is all I ever get from you. But he silenced her in a capital style. You're hungry, eh? Well, eat your fist and keep the other for tomorrow. He considered it highly improper to do the dramatic in other people's presence. What? He hadn't worked and yet the bakers needed bread all the same. Did she take him for a fool to come and try to frighten them with her stories? Do you want me to turn thief? She muttered in a dull voice. My boots stroked his chin in conciliatory fashion. No, that's forbidden, said he. But when a woman knows how to handle herself and Coupeau interrupted him to call out, bravo! Yes, a woman always ought to know how to handle herself, but his wife had always been a helpless thing. It would be her fault if they died on the straw. Then he relapsed into his admiration for my boots. How awfully fine he looked, a regular landlord with clean linen and swell shoes. They were no common stuff. His wife at all events knew how to keep the pot boiling. The two men walked towards the outer boulevard and Javert followed them. After a pause she resumed talking behind Coupeau's back. I'm hungry, you know I relied on you. You must find me something to nibble. He did not answer and she repeated in a tone of despairing agony. Is that all I get from you? My dear, I've no coin, he roared, turning round in a fury. Just leave me alone, eh, or else I'll hit you. He was already raising his fist. She drew back and seemed to make up for mind. All right, I'll leave you. I guess I can find a man. The zinc worker laughed at this. He pretended to make a joke of the matter and strengthened her purpose without seeming to do so. That was a fine idea of hers and no mistake. In the evening by gas light she might still hook a man. He recommended it to try the Capuchin restaurant where one could dine very pleasantly in a small private room. And as she went off along the boulevard, looking pale and furious, he called out to her. Listen, bring me back some dessert. I like cakes. And if your gentleman is well-dressed, ask him for an old overcoat. I could use one. With these words ringing in her ears, Javert walked softly away. But when she found herself alone in the midst of the crowd, she slackened her pace. She was quite resolute between thieving and the other. Well, she preferred the other, but at all events she wouldn't harm anyone. No doubt it wasn't proper, but what was proper and what was improper was sorely muddled together in her brain. When you are dying of hunger, you don't philosophize. You eat whatever bread turns up. She had gone along as far as the Chaussée Clignancourt. It seemed as if the night would never come. However, she followed the boulevard like a lady who was taking a stroll before dinner. The neighborhood in which she felt so ashamed, so greatly was it being embellished, was now full of fresh air. Lost in the crowd on the broad footway walking past the little plain trees, Javert felt alone and abandoned. The vistas of the avenues seemed to empty her stomach all the more. And to think that among this flood of people there were many uneasy circumstances, and yet not a Christian who could guess her position and slip a ten-sue piece into her hand. Yes, it was too great and too beautiful. Her head swam and her legs tottered under this broad expanse of grey sky stretched over so vast a space. The twilight had the dirty yellowish tinge of Parisian evenings, a tinge that gives you a longing to die at once so ugly to a street life scene. The horizon was growing indistinct, assuming a mud-coloured tinge as it were. Javert, who was already weary, met all the work people were turning home. At this hour of the day the ladies in bonnets and the well-dressed gentlemen living in the new houses mingled with the people, with the fowls of men and women still pale from inhaling the tainted atmosphere of workshops and work rooms. From the boulevard magenta and the rue du faubourg poissonnière came bands of people rendered breathless by their uphill walk, as the omnivans and the cabs rolled by in less noiselessly among the vans and trucks returning home empty at a gallop, an ever-increasing swarm of blouses and blue vests covered the pavement. Commissionaires returned with their crotchets on their backs. Two workmen took long strides side by side, talking to each other in loud voices with any amount of gesticulation that without looking at one another. Others who were alone in overcoats and caps walked along the curb stones with lowered noses. Others again came in parties of five or six following each other with pale eyes and their hands in their pockets and not exchanging a word. Some still had their pipes which had gone out between their teeth. Formations poked their white faces out of the windows of a cab which they had hired between them and on the roof of which their mortetross rocked to and fro. House painters were swinging their pots as ink worker was returning laden with a long ladder with which he almost poked people's eyes out. Whilst a belated plumber with his box on his back played the tune of The Good King Dagobah on his little trumpet. Ah, the sad music of fitting accompaniment to the tread of the flock, the tread of the weary beasts of burden. Suddenly on raising her eyes she noticed the old Hotel Bancur in front of her. After being an all-night café which the police had closed down the little house was now abandoned. The shutters were covered with posters, the lantern was broken and the whole building was rotting and crumbling away from top to bottom with its smudgy, claret-coloured paint quite mouldy. The station as in the tobacconists were still there. In the rear over some low buildings you could see the leprous facades of several five storied houses rearing their tumble-down outlines against the sky. The grand balcony dancing hall no longer existed. Some sugar-cutting works which hissed continually had been installed in the hall with ten flaming windows. And yet it was here in this dirty den the Hotel Bancur that the whole cursed life had commenced. Chauvaise remained looking at the window of the first floor from which hung a broken shutter and recalled to mind her youth with l'entier, their first rowers and the ignoble way in which she had abandoned her. Never mind she was young then and it all seemed gay to her seen from a distance, only twenty years. Mon Dieu! And yet she had fallen to street-walking. Then the sight of the lodging-house oppressed her and she walked up the boulevard in the direction of Montmartre. The night was gathering but children were still playing on the heaps of sand between the benches. The march-past continued. The work-girls went by trotting along and hurrying to make up for the time they had lost in looking in at the shop windows. One tall girl who had stopped left her hand in that of a big fellow who accompanied her to within three doors of her home. Others as they parted from each other made appointments for the night in the great hall of folly or the black ball. In the midst of the group's piece-workmen went by carrying their clothes folded under their arms. The chimney-sweep, harnessed with leather braces was drawing a cart along and nearly got himself crushed by an omnibus. Among the crowd which was now growing scantier there were several women running with bare heads. After lighting the fire they had come downstairs again and were hastily making their purchases for dinner. They jostled the people they met darted into the bakers and the pork butchers and went off again with all dispatch their provisions in their hands. There were little girls of eight years old who had been sent out on errands and who went along past the shops pressing long loaves of four pounds weight as tall as they were themselves against their chests as if these loaves had been beautiful yellow dolls at times these little ones forgot themselves for five minutes or so in front of some pictures in a shop window and rested their cheeks against the bread. Then the flow subsided the groups became fewer and farther between the working classes had gone home and as the gas blazed now that the day's toil was over idleness and amusement seemed to wake up. Ah yes, Chávez had finished her day. She was wearier even than all this mob of toilers who had jostled her as they went by. She might lie down there and croak. The work would have nothing more to do with her and she had toiled enough during her life to say whose turn now? I have had enough. At present everyone was eating. It really was the end. The sun had blown out its candle. The night would be a long one. Mourn dear to stretch oneself at one's ease and never get up again. Do you think one had put one's tools by for good and that one could ruminate like a cow forever? That's what is good. Detiring oneself out for 20 years. And Chávez as hunger twisted her stomach thought in spite of herself of the fates days the spreads and the revelry of her life. On one occasion especially an awfully cold day a mid-length Thursday. She had enjoyed herself wonderfully well. She was very pretty, bare haired and fresh looking at that time. The wash house in the Rue Nerve had chosen her as queen in spite of her leg and then they had had an outing on the boulevards in carts decked with greenery in the midst of stylish people who ogled her. Real gentlemen put up their glasses as if she had been a true queen. In the evening there was a wonderful spread and then they had danced till daylight. Queen, yes queen with a crown and a sash for 24 hours twice round the clock and now oppressed by hunger she looked on the ground as if she were seeking for the gutter in which she had let her fallen majesty tumble. End of third part of chapter 12 Recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelmeer Surrey Section 57 of La Samoire This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Martin Giesen La Samoire by Emile Zola Translated by Ernest Avisatelli Fourth part of chapter 12 She raised her eyes again. She was in front of the slaughterhouses which were being pulled down. Through the gaps in the façade one could see the dark stinking courtyard still damp with blood. And when she had gone down the boulevard again she also saw the La Riboisière hospital with its long grey wall above which she could distinguish the mournful fan-like wings pierced with windows at even distances. A door in the wall filled the neighbourhood with dread. It was the door of the dead in solid oak and without a crack. A stern and a silent as a tombstone. And to escape her thoughts she hurried further down till she reached the railway bridge. The high parapets of riveted sheatine hid the line from view. She could only distinguish a corner of the station standing out against the luminous horizon of Paris with a vast roof black with coal dust. Through the clear space she could hear the engines whistling and the cars being shunted in token of colossal hidden activity. Then a train passed by leaving Paris with a puffing breath and a growing rumble. And all she perceived of this train was a white plume, a sudden gust of steam which rose above the parapet and then evaporated. But the bridge had shaken and she herself seemed impressed by this departure at full speed. She turned round as if to follow the invisible engine, the noise of which was dying away. She caught a glimpse of open country through a gap between tall buildings. Oh, if only she could have taken a train and gone far away, far away from this poverty and suffering. She might have started an entirely new life. Then she turned to look at the posters on the bridge siding. One was on pretty blue paper and offered a 50 franc reward for a lost dog. Someone must really have loved that dog. Chávez slowly resumed her walk in the smoky fog which was falling the gas lamps were being lighted up and the long avenues which had grown bleak and indistinct suddenly showed themselves plainly again sparkling to their full length and piercing through the night even to the vague darkness of the horizon. A great gust swept by the widened spaces were lighted up with girdles of little flames shining under the far-stretching moonless sky. It was the hour when from one end of the boulevard to the other the drum shops and the dancing halls flamed gaily as the first glasses were merrily drunk and the first dance began. It was the great fortnightly payday and the pavement was crowded with jostling revelers on the spree. There was a breath of merry-making in the air deused fine revelry but not objectionable so far. The cellars were filling themselves in the eating-houses through the lighted windows you could see people feeding with their mouths full and laughing without taking the trouble to swallow first. Drunkards were already installed in the wine shops squabbling and gesticulating and there was a cursed noise on all sides voices shouting amidst the constant clatter of feet on the pavement. Say, are you coming to sip? Make haste, old man, I'll pay for a glass of bottled wine. Here's Pauline, shall we just laugh? The doors swung to and fro letting a smell of wine and a sound of cornet playing escape into the open air. There was a gathering in front of Père Colombe's La Samoire which was lighted up like a cathedral for high mass. Mondeur, you would have said a real ceremony was going on for several capital fellows and swollen cheeks looking for all the world-like professional choristers with singing inside. They were celebrating Saint Pay, of course a very amiable saint who no doubt keeps the cash box in paradise. Only on seeing how gaily the evening began the retired petty tradesmen who had taken their wives out for a stroll wagged their heads and repeated that there would be any number of men in Paris that night. And the night stretched very dark, dead-like and icy above this revelry perforated only with lines of gas lamps extending to the four corners of heaven. Gervais stood in front of La Samoire thinking that if she had had a couple of sews she could have gone inside and drunk a dram. No doubt a dram would have quieted her hunger. The number of drams she had drunk in her time liquor seemed good stuff to her after all. And from outside she watched the drunk-making machine realizing that her misfortune was due to it and yet dreaming of finishing herself off with brandy on the day she had some coin. But a shudder passed through her hair as she saw it was now almost dark. Well, the night time was approaching. She must have some pluck and sell herself coaxingly if she didn't wish to kick the bucket in the midst of the general revelry. Looking at other people gorging themselves didn't precisely fill her own stomach. She slackened her pace again and looked around her. There was a darker shade under the trees. Few people passed along, only folks in a hurry who swiftly crossed the boulevards. And on the broad, dark, deserted footway where the sound of the revelry died away women were standing and waiting. They remained for long intervals motionless, patient and as stiff looking as the scrubby little plain trees. Then they slowly began to move, dragging their slippers over the frozen soil, taking ten steps or so and then waiting again. Rooted as it were to the ground. There was one of them with a huge body and insect-like arms and legs wearing a black silk rag and a yellow scarf over her head. There was another one tall and bony who was bare-headed and wore a servant's apron. And others too, old ones plastered up and young ones so dirty that a rag-picker would not have picked them up. However, Chávez tried to learn what to do by imitating them. Girlish-like emotion tightened her throat. She was hardly aware whether she felt ashamed or not. She had to be living in a horrible dream. For a quarter of an hour she remained standing erect, men hurried by without even turning their heads. Then she moved about in her turn adventuring to accost a man who was whistling with his hands in his pockets. She murmured in her strangled voice, Sir, listen a moment. The man gave her a side glance and then went off whistling all the louder. Chávez grew bolder and with her stomach empty she became absorbed in this chase, fiercely rushing after her dinner which was still running away. She walked about for a long while without thinking of the flight of time or of the direction she took. Around her the dark, mute women went to and fro under the trees like wild beasts in a cage. They stepped out of the shade like apparitions and passed under the light of a gas-lamp with their pale masks fully apparent. Then they grew vague again as they went off into the darkness with a white strip of petticoat swinging to and fro. Men let themselves be stopped at times, talked jokingly and then started off again laughing. Others would quietly follow a woman to her room discreetly, ten paces behind. There was a deal of muttering quarrelling in an undertone and furious bargaining which suddenly subsided into profound silence. And as far as Chávez went she saw these women standing like sentinels in the night. They seemed to be placed along the whole length of the boulevard. As soon as she met one she saw another twenty paces further on and the files stretched out unceasingly. Entire Paris was guarded. She grew enraged on finding herself disdained and changing her place perambulated between the chaussée de clignons cour and the grand rue of La Chapelle. All were beggars. Sir, just listen. But the men passed by. She started from the slaughterhouses which stank of blood. She glanced on her way at the old Hotel Bon Coeur, now closed. She passed in front of the La Riboisière hospital and mechanically counted the number of windows that were illuminated with a pale, quiet glimmer like that of nightlights at the bedside of some agonising sufferers. She crossed the railway bridge as the trains rushed by with a noisy rumble rending the air in twain with their shrill whistling. Ah, how sad everything seemed at night time. And she turned on her heels again and filled her eyes with the sight of the same houses doing this ten and twenty times without pausing, without resting for a minute on a bench. No, no one wanted her. The shame seemed to be increased by this contempt. She went down towards the hospital again and then returned towards the slaughterhouses. It was her last promenade from the bloodstained courtyards where animals were slaughtered down to the pale hospital wards where death stiffened the patience stretched between the sheets. It was between these two establishments that she had passed her life. Sir, just listen. But suddenly she perceived her shadow on the ground. When she approached a gas-lamp it gradually became less vague till it stood out at last in full force. An enormous shadow it was positively grotesque so portly had she become. Her stomach, breast and hips all equally flabby jostled together as it were. She walked with such a limp that the shadow bobbed almost topsy-turvy at every step she took. It looked like a real punch. Then as she left the street-lamp behind her the punch grew taller becoming in fact gigantic filling the whole boulevard bobbing to and fro in such style that it seemed fated to smash its nose against the trees or the houses. Mon Dieu, how frightful she was. She had never realised her disfigurement so thoroughly and she could not help looking at her shadow. Indeed, she waited for the gas-lamp still watching the punch as it bobbed about. Ah, she had a pretty companion beside her. What a figure it ought to attract the men at once. And at the thought of her unsightliness she lowered her voice and only just dared to stammer beside the passers-by. Sir, just listen. It was now getting quite late. Matters were growing bad in the neighbourhood. The eating-houses had closed and voices gruff with drink could be heard disputing in the wine-shops. Revelry was turning to quarrelling and fisticuffs. A big ragged chap wrought out, I'll knock it a bit, just count your bones. A large woman had quarrelled with the fellow outside a dancing-place and was calling him a dirty blaggard and lousy bam, whilst he on his side just muttered under his breath. Drink seemed to have imparted a fierce desire to indulge in blows and the passers-by, who were now less numerous, had pale, contracted faces. There was a battle at last. One drunken fellow came down on his back with four limbs raised in the air, whilst his comrade, thinking he had done for him, ran off with his heavy shoes clattering over the pavement. Groups of men sang dirty songs and then there would be long silences broken only by hiccups or the sound of a drunk falling down. Javert still hobbled about, going up and down, with the idea of walking forever. At times she felt drowsy and went to sleep, rocked as it were by her lame leg. Then she looked round her with a start and noticed she had walked a hundred yards unconsciously. Her feet were swelling in her ragged shoes. The last clear thought that occupied her mind was that her hussy of a daughter was perhaps eating oysters at that very moment. Then everything became cloudy and albeit she remained with open eyes, required too great an effort for her to think. The only sensation that remained to her in her utter annihilation was that it was frightfully cold, so sharply mortally cold she had never known the like before. Why, even dead people could not feel so cold in their graves. With an effort she raised her head and something seemed to lash her face. It was the snow which had at last decided to fall upon the smoky sky, fine thick snow which the breeze swept round and round. For three days it had been expected and what a splendid moment it chose to appear. Woken up by the first gusts Chervais began to walk faster, eager to get home men were running along with their shoulders already white. And as she suddenly saw one who on the contrary was coming slowly towards her under the trees she approached him and again said Sir, just listen. The man has stopped but he did not seem to have heard her. He held out his hand and muttered in a low voice Charity if you please. They looked at one another. Ah, mon Dieu! They were reduced to this perpue begging Madame Coupeau walking the streets. They remained stupefied in front of each other. They could join hands as equals now. The old workmen had prowled about the whole evening not daring to stop anyone and the first person he accosted was as hungry as himself. Lord was it not pitiful to have toiled for fifty years and be obliged to beg to have been one of the most prosperous launderesses in the Rue de la Goutte d'Or and to end beside the gutter. They still looked at one another then without saying a word they went off in different directions under the lashing snow. It was a perfect tempest. On these heights in the midst of this open space the fine snow revolved round and round as if the wind came from the four corners of heaven. You could not see ten paces off. Everything was confused in the midst of this flying dust. The surroundings had disappeared. The boulevard seemed to be dead as if the storm had stretched the silence of its white sheet over the hiccups of the last drunkards. Cervers still went on, blinded, lost. She felt her way by touching the trees. As she advanced the gas lamps shone out amid the whiteness like torches. Then suddenly whenever she crossed an open space these lights failed her. She was enveloped in the whirling snow unable to distinguish anything to guide her. Below stretched the ground vaguely white. Gray walls surrounded her and when she paused hesitating and turning her head she divined that behind this icy veil extended the immense avenue with interminable vistas of gas lamps the black and deserted infinite of Paris asleep. She was standing where the outer boulevard meets the boulevards Magenta and Arnano thinking of lying down on the ground when suddenly she heard a footfall. She began to run but the snow blinded her and the footsteps went off without her being able to tell whether it was to the right or to the left. At last however she perceived a man's broad shoulders a dark form which was disappearing amid the snow. Oh she wouldn't let this man get away and she ran on all the faster reached him and caught him by the blouse. Sir, sir just listen the man turned round. It was Goucher. End of fourth part of chapter 12 Recording by Martin Geeson in Hazelmere Surrey Section 58 of La Samoire This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Martin Geeson La Samoire by Emile Zola translated by Ernest A. Visitelli Fifth part of chapter 12 So now she had accosted Goldenbeard but what had she done on earth to be tortured like this by Providence? It was the crowning blow to stumble against Goucher and be seen by her blacksmith friend tail and begging like a common street walker and it happened just under a gas lamp she could see her deformed shadow swaying on the snow like a real caricature you would have said she was drunk weren't you not to have a crust of bread or a drop of wine in her body and to be taken for a drunken woman it was her own fault why did she booze Goucher no doubt thought she had been drinking and that she was up to some nasty pranks he looked at her whilst the snow scattered daisies over his beautiful yellow beard then as she lowered her head and stepped back he detained her Cam said he and he walked on first she followed him they both crossed the silent district gliding noiselessly along the walls poor Madame Goucher had died of rheumatism in the month of October Goucher still resided in the little house in the Runeuve living gloomily alone on this occasion he was belated because he had sat up nursing a wounded comrade when he had opened the door and lighted a lamp he turned towards Charvers who had remained humbly on the threshold then in a low voice as if he were afraid his mother could still hear him he exclaimed come in the first room Madame Goucher was piously preserved and the state she had left it on a chair near the window lay the tambour by the side of the large armed chair which seemed to be waiting for the old lace worker the bed was made and she could have stretched herself beneath the sheets if she had left the cemetery to come and spend the evening with her child there was something solemn a perfume of honesty and goodness about the room come in repeated the blacksmith in a louder tone she went in half frightened like a disreputable woman gliding into a respectable place he was quite pale and trembled at the thought of ushering a woman like this into his dead mother's home they crossed the room on tipped toes if they were ashamed to be heard then when he had pushed Charvers into his own room he closed the door here he was at home it was the narrow closet she was acquainted with the schoolgirls room with a little iron bedstead hung with white curtain on the walls the engravings cut out of illustrated newspapers gathered and spread and they now reached to the ceiling the room looked so pure that Charvers did not dare to advance but retreated as far as she could from the lamp then without a word in a transport as it were he tried to seize hold of her and press her in his arms but she felt faint and murmured oh mon Dieu, oh mon Dieu the fire in the stove having been covered with coke dust was still a light and the remains of a stew which Gougier had put to warm thinking he should return to dinner was smoking in front of the cinders Charvers who felt her numbness leave her in the warmth of this room would have gone down on all fours to eat it out of the saucepan her hunger was stronger than her will her stomach seemed rent in two and she stooped down with a sigh Gougier had realized the truth he placed the stew on the table, cut some bread and poured her out a glass of wine thank you, thank you, said she oh how kind you are, thank you she stammered, she could hardly articulate when she caught hold of her fork she began to tremble so acutely that she let it fall again the hunger that possessed her made her wag her head as if senile she carried the food to her mouth with her fingers as she stuffed the first potato into her mouth she burst out sobbing big tears coursed down her cheeks and fell onto her bread she still ate, gluttonously devouring this bread thus moistened by her tears and breathing very hard all the while Gougier compelled her to drink to prevent her from stifling and her glass chinked as it were against her teeth will you have some more bread? he asked in an undertone she cried, she said no she said yes, she didn't know how nice and yet how painful it is to eat when one is starving and standing in front of her Gougier looked at her all the while under the bright light cast by the lampshade he could see her well how aged and altered she seemed the heat was melting the snow on her hair and clothes and she was dripping her poor wagging head was quite grey there were any number of grey locks which the wind had disarranged her neck sank into her shoulders and she had become so fat and ugly you might have cried on noticing the change he recollected their love when she was quite rosy working with her irons and showing the childlike crease which set such a charming necklace around her throat in those times he had watched her for hours, glad just to look at her later on she had come to the forge and there they had enjoyed themselves whilst he beat the iron and she stood by watching his hammer dance how often at night with his head buried in his pillow had he dreamed of holding her in his arms as soon as rose she had finished she remained for a moment with her head lowered and ill at ease then thinking she detected a gleam in his eyes she raised her hand to her jacket and began to unfasten the first button but Gougier had fallen on his knees and taking hold of her hands he exclaimed softly I love you Madame Chauvés oh I love you still and in spite of everything I swear it to you don't say that Monsieur Gougier she cried maddened to see him like this at her feet no don't say that you grieve me too much and as he repeated that he could never love twice in his life she became yet more despairing no no I am too ashamed for the love of God get up it is my place to be on the ground he rose he trembled all over and stammered will you allow me to kiss you overcome with surprise and emotion she could not speak but she assented with a nod of the head after all she was his he could do what he chose with her but he merely kissed her that suffices between us Madame Chauvés he muttered it sums up all our friendship does it not he had kissed her on the forehead on a lock of her grey hair he had not kissed anyone since his mother's death his sweet heart Chauvés alone remained to him in life and then when he had kissed her with so much respect he fell back across his bed with the sobs rising in his throat and Chauvés could not remain there any longer it was too sad and too abominable to meet again under such circumstances when one loved I love you Monsieur Gougé she exclaimed I love you dearly also oh it isn't possible you still love me goodbye goodbye it would smother us both it would be more than we could stand and she darted through Madame Gougé's room and found herself outside on the pavement again when she recovered her senses she had rung at the door and Bush was pulling the string the house was quite dark and in the black night the yawning dilapidated porch looked like an open mouth to think that she had been ambitious of having a corner in this barracks had her ears been stopped up then that she had not heard the cursed music of despair which sounded behind the walls since she had set foot in the place she had begun to go downhill yes it must bring bad luck to shut oneself up in these big workmen's houses the cholera of misery was contagious there that night everyone seemed to have kicked the bucket she only heard the bushes snoring on the right hand side by Lantier and Viochini on the left were purring like a couple of cats who were not asleep but had their eyes closed and feel warm in the courtyard she fancied she was in a perfect cemetery the snow paved the ground with white the high frontages livid grey in tint rose up unlighted like ruined walls and not a sigh could be heard it seemed as if a whole village stiffened with cold and hunger were buried here she had to step over a black gutter water from the die works which smoked and streaked the whiteness of the snow with its muddy course it was the colour of her thoughts the beautiful light blue and light pink waters had long since flowed away then whilst descending the six flights of stairs in the dark she could not prevent herself from laughing an ugly laugh which hurt her she recalled her ideal of former days to work quietly always have bread to eat and a tidy house to sleep in to bring up her children not to be beaten and to die in her bed no really it was comical how all that was becoming realised she no longer worked she no longer ate she slept on filth her husband frequented all sorts of wine shops and her husband drugged her at all hours of the day all that was left for her to do was to die on the pavement and it would not take long if on getting into her room she could only pluck up courage to fling herself out of the window was it not enough to make one think that she had hoped to earn 30,000 francs a year and no end of respect ah really in this life it is no use being modest one only gets sat upon not even pat and a nest that is the common lot what increased her ugly laugh was the recollection of her grand hope of retiring into the country after 20 years passed in ironing well she was on her way to the country she was going to have her green corner in the Père Lachaise cemetery when she entered the passage she was like a madwoman her poor head was whirling round at heart her great grief was at having bid the blacksmith an eternal farewell all was ended between them they would never see each other more then besides that all her other thoughts of misfortune pressed upon her and almost caused her head to split as she passed she poked her nose in at the Bijard and beheld Lali dead with a look of contentment on her face that having at last been laid out and slumbering forever ah well children were luckier than grown up people and as a glimmer of light passed under old Bazouge's door she walked boldly in seized with a mania for going off on the same journey as the little one that old Joker Bazouge had come home that night in an extraordinary state of gaiety he had had such a booze that he was snoring on the ground in spite of the temperature and that no doubt did not prevent him from dreaming something pleasant for he seemed to be laughing from his stomach as he slept the candle which he had not put out lighted up his old garments his black cloak which he had drawn over his knees as though it had been a blanket on beholding him Jarvez uttered such a deep wailing that he awoke Mordir shut the door it's so cold ah it's you what's the matter what do you want then Jarvez stretching out her arms no longer knowing what she stuttered began passionately to implore him oh take me away I've had enough I want to go off you mustn't bear me any grudge I didn't know or never knows until once ready oh yes one's glad to go one day take me away take me away and I shall thank you she fell on her knees all shaken with a desire which caused her to turn ghastly pale never before had she thus dragged herself at a man's feet old Bazouge's ugly mug with his mouth all on one side and his hide begrimmed with the dust of funerals seemed to her as beautiful and resplendent as a son the old fellow who was scarcely awake thought however that it was some sort of bad joke look here Mermity no jokes take me away repeated Jarvez more ardently still you remember I knocked one evening against the partition then I said it wasn't true because I was still a fool but see give me your hands I'm no longer frightened take me away to bye bye you'll see how still I'll be oh sleep that's all I care for oh I love you so much Bazouge ever gallant thought that he ought not to be hasty with a lady who appeared to have taken such a fancy to him she was falling to pieces but all the same what remained was very fine especially when she was excited what you say is very true said he in a convinced manner I packed up three more today he would only have been too glad to have given me something for myself could they but have got their hands to their pockets but this little woman it's not so easily settled as all that take me away take me away continued Jarvez I want to die ah but there's a little operation to be gone through beforehand you know and he made a noise in his throat as though swallowing his tongue then thinking at a good joke he chuckled Jarvez slowly rose to her feet so he too could do nothing for her she went to her room and threw herself on her straw feeling stupid and regretting she had eaten ah no indeed misery did not kill quickly enough end of chapter 12 recording by Martin Giesen in Hazelnir Surrey section 59 of La Samoa this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by David Lazarus La Samoa by Emil Zola translated by Ernest A visitelli chapter 13 that night Coupot went on a spree next day Jarvez received ten francs from her son Etienne who was a mechanic on some railway the youngster sent her a few francs from time to time knowing that they were not very well off at home she made some soup and ate it all alone for that scoundrel Coupot did not return on the morrow on Monday he was still absent and on Tuesday also the whole week went by ah it would be good luck if some woman took him in on Sunday Jarvez received a printed document it was to inform her that her husband was dying at the Saint Anne Asylum Jarvez did not disturb herself he knew the way he could very well get home from the asylum by himself they had cured him there so often that they could once more do him the sorry service of putting him on his pins again had she not heard that very morning that for the week before Coupot had been seen as round as a ball rolling about Belleville from one dram shop to another in the company of My Boots exactly so and it was My Boots too who stood treat he must have hooked his Mrs's stockings with all the savings gained at very hard work it wasn't clean money that they used but money that they could infect with any manner of vile diseases well anyway they hadn't thought to invite her for a drink if you wanted to drink by yourself you could croak by yourself however on Monday as Jarvez had a nice little meal planned for the evening the remains of some beans and a pint of wine she pretended to herself that a walk would give her an appetite the letter from the asylum which she had left lying on the bureau bothered her the snow had melted the day was mild and grey and on the whole fine with just a slight keenness in the air which was invigorating she started at noon for her walk was a long one she had to cross Paris and her bad leg always slowed her with that the streets were crowded but the people amused her she reached her destination very pleasantly when she had given her name she was told a most astounding story to the effect that Coupot had been fished out of the Seine close to the Pont Neuf he had jumped over the parapet under the impression that a bearded man was barring his way a fine jump was it not and as for finding out how Coupot got to be on the Pont Neuf that was a matter he could not even explain himself one of the keepers a Scottish Jarvez she was ascending a staircase when she heard howlings which made her shiver to her very bones she was playing a nice music isn't he? observed the keeper who is? are she? why you're old man he's been yelling like that ever since the day before yesterday and he dances you'll just see oh my dear what a sight she stood as one transfixed the cell was padded from the floor to the ceiling on the floor there were two straw mats one piled on top of the other and in a corner were spreader mattress and a bolster nothing more inside there Coupot was dancing and yelling his blouse in tatters and his limbs beating the air he wore the mask of one about to die what a breakdown he bumped up against the window then retired backwards beating time with his arms and shaking his hands as though he were trying to wrench them off and fling them in somebody's face one meets with buffoons in low dancing places who imitate the delirium tremor only they imitated badly one must see this drunkard's dance if one wishes to know what it is like when gone through an earnest the song also has its merits a continuous yell worthy of carnival time a mouth wide open uttering the same horse trombone notes for hours together Coupot had the howl of a beast with a crushed pour strike up music gentlemen choose your partners oh mon Dieu what is the matter with him what is the matter with him repeated your vase seized with fear a house surgeon a big fair fellow with a rosy countenance and wearing a white apron was quietly sitting taking notes the case was a curious one the doctor did not leave the patient for a day a while if you like said he to the laundress but keep quiet try and speak to him he will not recognize you Coupot indeed did not even appear to see his wife she had only had a bad view of him on entering he was wriggling about so much when she looked him full in the face she stood aghast oh mon Dieu was it possible he had a countenance like that his eyes full of blood and his lips covered with scabs she would certainly never have known him to begin with he was making too many grimaces without saying why his mouth suddenly out of all shape his nose curled up his cheeks drawn in a perfect animal's muzzle his skin was so hot the air steamed around him and his hide was as though varnished covered with a heavy sweat which trickled off him in his mad dance one could see all the same that he was not at his ease his head was heavy and his limbs ached Gervais drew near to the house surgeon who was strumming a tune with the tips of his fingers on the back of his chair tell me sir it's serious then this time the house surgeon nodded his head without answering isn't he jabbering to himself eh don't you hear what's it about about things he sees murmured the young man keep quiet let me listen Dupo was speaking in a jerky voice a glimmer of amusement lit up his eyes he looked on the floor to the right to the left and turned about as though he had been strolling in the Bois de Vincennes conversing with himself ah that's nice that's grand there's cottages of regular fare and some jolly fine music ah what a Balthazar's feast they're smashing the crockery in there awfully swell it up red balls in the air and it jumps and it flies oh what a lot of lanterns in the trees it's confoundedly pleasant there's water flowing everywhere fountains, cascades, water which sings oh with a voice of a chorister the cascades are grand and he drew himself up as though the better to hear the delicious song of the water he sucked in forcibly fancying he was drinking the fresh spray blown from the fountains but little by little his face resumed an agonized expression then he crouched down and flew quicker than ever around the walls of the cell uttering vague threats more traps all that I thought as much silence you set of swindlers yes you're making a fool of me it's for that that you're drinking and bawling inside there with your vigorous I'll demolish you you and your cottage damnation will you leave me in peace he clinched his fists then he uttered a horse cry stooping as he ran and he stuttered his teeth chattering with fright it's so that I may kill myself no I won't throw myself in all that water means that I've no heart no I won't throw myself in the cascades which fled at his approach advanced when he retired and all of a sudden he looked stupidly around him mumbling in a voice which was scarcely audible it isn't possible they said conjurious against me I'm off sir I've got to go, good night said Gervais to the house surgeon it upsets me too much I'll come again she was quite white Coupot was continuing his breakdown from the window to the mattress and from the mattress to the window toiling always beating the same rhythm then she hurried away but though she scrambled down the stairs she still heard her husband's confounded jig until she reached the bottom oh monty how pleasant it was out of doors one could breathe there that evening everyone in the tenement was discussing Coupot's strange malady the boss invited Gervais to have a drink with them even though they now considered clump clump beneath them in order to hear all the details Madame Laurier and Madame Poisson were there also Bosch told of a carpenter he had known who had been a drinker of absinthe the man shed his clothes went out in the street and danced the poker until he died that rather struck the ladies' comic even though it was very sad Gervais got up in the middle of the room and did an imitation of Coupot yes that's just how it was can anyone feature a man doing that for hours on end? if they didn't believe they could go see for themselves on getting up the next morning Gervais promised herself she would not return to the Saan again what use would it be? she did not want to go off her head also however every ten minutes she fell to musing and became absent-minded it would be curious though if he was still throwing his legs about when twelve o'clock struck she could no longer resist she started off and did not notice how long the walk was her brain was so full of her desire to go and the dread of what awaited her oh there was no need for her to ask for news she heard Coupot's song the moment she reached the foot of the staircase just the same tune just the same dance she might have thought herself going up again after having only been down for a minute the attendant of the day before who was carrying some jugs of tisane along the corridor winked his eye as he met her by way of being amiable still the same then? said she oh still the same he replied without stopping she entered the room but she remained near the door because there were some people with Coupot the fair Rosie House surgeon was standing up having given his chair to a bald old gentleman who was decorated and had a pointed face like a weasel he was no doubt the head doctor for his glance was as sharp and piercing as a gimlet all the dealers in sudden death have a glance like that no really it was not a pretty sight and Gervais all in a tremble asked her so why she had returned to think that the evening before they accused her at the bosses of exaggerating the picture now she saw better how Coupot said about it his eyes wide open looking into space and she would never forget it she overheard a few words between the house surgeon and the head doctor the former was giving some details of the night her husband had talked and thrown himself about that was what it amounted to then the bald headed old gentleman who was not very polite by the way had length appeared to become aware of her presence and when the house surgeon had informed him that she was the patient's wife he began to question her in the harsh manner of a commissary of the police did this man's father drink? yes just a little like everyone he killed himself by falling from a roof one day when he was tipsy did his mother drink? well so like everyone else you know a drop here a drop there oh the family is very respectable there was a brother who died very young in convulsions the doctor looked at her with his piercing eye he resumed in his rough voice and you you drink too don't you Gervais Stamman protested and placed her hand upon her heart as though to take her solemn oath you drink take care see where drink leads to one day or other you will die thus then she remained close to the wall the doctor had turned his back to her he squatted down without trembling himself as to whether his overcoat trailed in the dust of the matting for a long while he studied coupos trembling waiting for its reappearance following it with his glance that day the legs were going in their turn the trembling had descended from the hands to the feet a regular puppet with his strings being pulled throwing his limbs about whilst the trunk of his body remained as stiff as a piece of wood the disease progressed little by little it was like a musical box beneath the skin it started off every three or four seconds and rolled along for an instance then it stopped then it started off again just the same as the little shiver which shakes stray dogs in winter when cold and standing in some doorway for protection already the middle of the body and the shoulders quivered like water on the point of boiling it was a funny demolition all the same going off wriggling like a girl being tickled Coupot meanwhile was complaining in a hollow voice he seemed to suffer a great deal more than the day before his broken murmurs disclosed all sorts of ailments thousands of pins were pricking him he felt something heavy all about his body some cold wet animal was crawling over his thighs and digging its fangs into his flesh then there were other animals sticking to his shoulders tearing his back with their claws I'm thirsty, oh I'm thirsty groaned he continually the house surgeon handed him a little lemonade from a small shelf Coupot seized the mug in both hands and greedily took a mouthful spilling off the liquid over himself but he spat it out at once with furious disgust exclaiming damnation and it's brandy then on a sign from the doctor the house surgeon tried to make him drink some water without leaving go of the bottle this time he swallowed the mouthful yelling as though he had swallowed fire it's brandy damnation it's brandy since the night before everything he had to drink was brandy he'd redoubled his thirst and he could no longer drink because everything burned him they had brought him some broth but they were evidently trying to poison him for the broth smelt of vitriol the bread was sour and moldy there was nothing but poison around him the cell stank of sulfur he even accused persons of rubbing matches under his nose to infect him all on a sudden he exclaimed oh the rats they're the rats now there were black balls there were changing into rats these filthy animals got fatter and fatter then they jumped onto the mattress and disappeared there was also a monkey which came out of the wall and went back into the wall and which approached so near him each time that he drew back through fear of having his nose bitten off suddenly there was another change the walls were probably cutting capers for he yelled out choking with terror and rage that said gee up shake me I don't care gee up tumble down yes ring the bells you black crows play the organs to prevent my calling the police they've put a bomb behind the wall the lousy scoundrels I can hear it it snorts they're going to blow us up fire damnation fire there's a cry of fire there it blazes oh it's getting lighter lighter all the sky's burning red fires green fires yellow fires I help fire his cries became lost in a rattle he now only mumble disconnected words foaming at the mouth his chin wet with saliva the doctor rubbed his nose with his finger a movement no doubt habitual with him in the presence of serious cases he turned to the house surgeon and asked him in a low voice and the temperature is still the hundred degrees is it not yes sir the doctor pursed his lips he continued there another two minutes his eyes fixed on Kupo then he shrugged his shoulders adding the same treatment broth milk lemonade and the potion of extract of quinine do not leave him and call me if necessary he went out and Gervais followed him to ask him if there was any hope but he walked so stiffly along the corridor that she did not dare approach him she stood rooted there a minute hesitating whether to return and look at her husband the time she had already passed had been far from pleasant as she again heard him calling out that the lemonade smelt a brandy she hurried away having had enough of the performance in the streets the galloping of the horses and the noises of the vehicles made her fancy that all the inmates of Saint Anne were at her heels and that the doctor had threatened her really she already thought she had the complaint End of first part of chapter 13 Recording by David Lazarus Section 60 of La Samoa This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by David Lazarus La Samoa by Emile Zola Translated by Ernest Avisatelli Second part of chapter 13 In the rue de la Goudre the Bosch and the others were naturally awaiting her The moment she appeared they called her into the concierge's room Well, was Old Coupot still in the land of the living? Well, gee, yes, he still lived Bosch seemed amazed and confounded he had bet a bottle that Old Coupot would not last till the evening What? He still lived? And they all exhibited their astonishment and slapped their thighs There was a fellow who lasted Madame Laurier reckoned up the hours 36 hours and 24 hours 60 hours Sacre ble, already 60 hours that he had been doing the jig and screaming such a feat of strength had never been seen before But Bosch, who was upset that he had lost the bet questioned Gervais with an air of doubt asking her if she was quite sure that he had not filed off behind her back Oh, no, he had no desire to he jumped about too much Then Bosch still doubting begged her to show them again a little how he was acting just so they could see Yes, yes, a little more The request was general The company told her she would be very kind She would oblige for just then two neighbors happened to be there who had not been present the day before and who had come down purposefully to see the performance The Carciers called everybody to make room They cleared the center of the apartment pushing one another with their elbows and quivering with curiosity Gervais, however, hung down her head really she was afraid it might upset her Desirous though of showing that she did not refuse to make her being pressed, she tried two or three little leaps but she became quite queer and stopped On her word of honor, she was not equal to it There was a murmur of disappointment It was a pity, she imitated it perfectly However, she could not do it It was no use insisting And when Virginie left to return to her shop they forgot all about Old Coupot and began to gossip about the Poisson and their home a real mess now The day before the Bailefs had been the policeman was about to lose his place As for Longier he was now making up to the daughter of the tribe seller Huh! It was amusing Everyone already beheld a tribe seller occupying the shop after the sweets should come something substantial and that blind Poisson How could a man whose profession required him to be so smart fail to see what was going on in his own home? They stopped talking suddenly when they noticed that Gervais was often a corner by herself imitating Coupot Her hands and feet were jerking Yes, they couldn't ask for a better performance Then Gervais started as if waking from a dream and hurried away calling out good night to everyone On the morrow the Bosch saw her start off at twelve the same as on the two previous days they wished her a pleasant afternoon That day the corridor of Saint Anne positively shook with Coupot's yells and kicks She had not left the stairs when she heard him yelling What a lot of bugs come this way again that I may squash you they want to kill me, are the bugs I'm a bigger swell than a lot of you clear out damnation clear out For a moment she stood panting before the door Was he then fighting against an army? When she entered the performance had increased and was embellished even more than on previous occasions Coupot was a raving madman the same as one sees at the Charenton Madhouse he was throwing himself about in the center of the cell slamming his fists everywhere and himself on the walls on the floor and stumbling about punching empty space he wanted to open the window and he hid himself defended himself, called, answered, produced all this uproar without the least assistance in the exasperated way of a man beset by a mob of people then Gervais understood that he fancied he was on a roof laying down sheets of zinc he imitated the bellows with his mouth he moved the iron about in the fire and knelt down so as to pass his thumb along the edge of the mat thinking that he was soldering it yes his handicraft returned to him at the moment of croaking and if he yelled so loud if he fought on his roof it was because ugly scoundrels were preventing him doing his work properly on all the neighboring roofs were villains mocking and tormenting him besides that the jokers were letting troops of rats loose about his legs they are the filthy beasts he saw them always though he kept crushing them bringing his foot down with all his strength fresh hordes of them continued passing until they quite covered the roof and there were spiders there too he roughly pressed his trousers against his thighs to squash some big spiders which had crept up his leg oh monge he would never finish his day's work they wanted to destroy him his employer would send him to prison then whilst making haste he suddenly imagined he had a steam engine in his stomach with his mouth wide open he puffed out the smoke a dense smoke which filled the cell and found an outlet by the window and bending forward still puffing he looked outside of the cloud of smoke as it unrolled and ascended to the sky where it hid the sun look, cried he there's the band of the Ejose Cliniacore disguised as bears with drums putting on a show he remained crouching before the window as though he had been watching a procession in a street from some rooftop there's the cavalcade lions and empanthers making grimaces there's brats dressed up as dogs and cats there's Toclemance with her wig full of feathers oh monge, she's turning head over heels she showed everything you better run, ducky hey, the cops, leave her alone just you leave her alone, don't shoot, don't shoot his voice rose, hoarse and terrified and he stooped down quickly saying that the police and the military were below men who were aiming at him with rifles in the wall he saw the barrel of a pistol emerging pointed at his breast they had dragged the girl away don't shoot, monge, don't shoot then the buildings were tumbling down he imitated the cracking of a whole neighborhood collapsing and all disappeared, all flew off but he had no time to take a breath other pictures passed with extraordinary rapidity a furious desire to speak filled his mouth full of words which he uttered without any connection and with a gurgling sound in his throat he continued to raise his voice louder and louder hello, it's you, good day, no jokes don't make me monster your hair and he passed his hand before his face he blew to send the hairs away the house surgeons questioned him who is it you see? my wife, of course he was looking at the wall with his back to Gervais the latter had a rare fright and she examined the wall to see if she also could catch sight of herself there he continued talking now you know none of your waddling eye won't be tied down you are pretty, you have got a fine dress where did you get that money for it, you cow? you've been at a party, camel wait a bit, I'll do for you you are hiding your boyfriend behind your skirts who is it, stoop down that I may see damnation at him again with a terrible leap he went head first against the wall but the padding softened the blow one only heard his body rebounding onto the matting where the shock had sent him who is it you see? reported the house surgeon the hatter, the hatter yelled Kupo and the house surgeon questioning Gervais the latter started without being able to answer for the scene stirred up within her all the worries of her life the zinc worker thrust out his fists we'll settle this between us my lad as full time I did for you you coolly come with that virgo in your arm to make a fool of me before everyone well I'm going to throttle you yes, yes I without putting any gloves on either I'll stop your swaggering take that and that and that he hit about in the air viciously then a wild rage took possession of him having bumped against the wall and walking backwards he thought he was being attacked from behind he turned around and fiercely hammered away at the padding he sprang about jumped from one corner to another knocked his stomach, his back, his shoulder rolled over and picked himself up again his bones seemed softened his flesh had a sound like damp oakum he accompanied this pretty game with atrocious threats and wild and guttural cries however the battle must have been going badly for him for his breathing became quicker his eyes were starting out of his head and he seemed little by little to be seized with a cowardice of a child murder, murder be off with you both oh you brutes, they're laughing there she is on her back, there I go she must give in it's settled on the brick and he's murdering her he's cutting off a leg with his knife the other leg's on the ground the stomach's in two with his full of blood oh mongeo, oh mongeo, mongeo and covered with perspiration his hair standing on end looking a frightful object he retired backwards violently waving his arms as though to send the abominable sight from him he uttered two heart-rending wails and fell flat on his back on the mattress against which his heels had caught he's dead sir, he's dead said Gervais, clasping her hands the house surgeon had drawn near and was pulling Coupot into the middle of the mattress no, he was not dead they had taken his shoes off his bare feet hung off the end of the mattress and they were dancing all by themselves one beside the other in time a little hurried and regular dance just then the head doctor entered he had brought two of his colleagues one thin, the other fat and both decorated like himself all three stooped down without saying a word and examined the man all over then they rapidly conversed together in a low voice they had uncovered Coupot from his thighs to his shoulders and by standing on tiptoes Gervais could see the naked trunk spread out well, it was complete the trembling had descended from the arms and ascended from the legs and now the trunk itself was getting lively he's sleeping, murmured the head doctor and he called the two others attention to the man's countenance Coupot his eyes closed had little nervous twinges which drew up all his face he was more hideous still thus flattened out with his jaw projecting and his visage deformed like a corpses that had suffered from nightmare but the doctors having caught sight of his feet went and poked their noses over them with an air of profound interest the feet were still dancing though Coupot slept the feet danced oh, their owner might snore that did not concern them they continued their little occupation without either hurrying or slackening regular mechanical feet feet which took their pleasure wherever they found it Gervais having seen the doctors place their hands on her old man wished to feel him or so she approached gently and laid a hand on his shoulder and she kept it there a minute oh, mon Dieu, whatever was taking place inside it danced down into the very depths of the flesh the bones themselves must have been jumping quiverings, undulations coming from afar flowed like a river beneath the skin when she pressed a little she felt she distinguished the suffering cries of the marrow what a fearful thing something was boring away like a mole it must be the rot-gut from La Samoire that was hacking away inside him well, his entire body had been soaked in it the doctors had gone away at the end of an hour Gervais who had remained with the house surgeon repeated in a low voice he's dead, sir, he's dead but the house surgeon who was watching the feet shook his head the bare feet projecting beyond the mattress still danced on they were not particularly clean and the nails were long several more hours passed all of a sudden they stiffened and became motionless then the house surgeon turned towards Gervais saying it's over now death alone had been able to stop those feet Gervais got back to the rot-gut door she found at the Bosch as a number of women who were cackling in the excited tones she thought they were awaiting her to have the latest news the same as the other days he's gone said she quietly as she pushed open the door looking tired out and dull but no one listened to her the whole building was topsy-turvy oh, a most extraordinary story Poisson had caught his wife with lontier exact details were not known because everyone had a different version however he had appeared just when they were not expecting him some further information was given which the ladies repeated to one another as they pursed their lips a sight like that had naturally brought Poisson out of his shell he was a regular tiger this man who talked but little and who always seemed to walk with a stick up his back had begun to roar and jump about then nothing more had been heard lontier had evidently explained things to the husband anyhow it could not last much longer and Bosch announced that the girl of the restaurant was for certain going to take the shop for selling tribe that rogue of a hatter adored tribe on seeing Madame Laurier and Madame Lara arrive Gervais repeated faintly he's gone, lontier four days dancing and yelling then the two sisters could not do otherwise than pull out their handkerchiefs their brother had had many faults but after all he was their brother Bosch shrugged his shoulders and said loud enough to be heard by everyone it's a drunkard the less from that day as Gervais often got a bit befuddled one of the amusements of the house was to see her imitate Coupot it was no longer necessary to press her she gave the performance gratis her hands and feet trembling as she uttered little involuntary shrieks she must have caught this habit at Saint Anne from watching her husband too long Gervais lasted in this state several months she fell lower and lower still submitting to the grossest outgrages and dying of starvation a little every day as soon as she had foresaw she drank and pounded on the walls she was employed on all the dirty errands of the neighbourhood once they even bet she wouldn't eat filth but she did it in order to earn ten sous Monsieur Marasco had decided to turn her out of her room on the sixth floor but as Père Bru had just been found dead in his cubby-hole under the staircase the king-lord had allowed her to turn into it now she roosted there in the place of Père Bru it was inside there on some straw that her teeth chattered whilst her stomach was empty and her bones were frozen the earth would not have her apparently she was becoming idiotic she did not even think of making an end of herself by jumping out of the sixth floor window onto the pavement of the courtyard below the earth had to take her little by little bit by bit dragging her thus to the end through the accursed existence she had made for herself it was never even exactly known what she did die of there was some talk of a cold but the truth was she died of privation and the filth and hardship of her ruined life overeating and disilluteness killed her according to the lawyer one morning as there was a bad smell in the passage it was remembered that she had not been seen for two days and she was discovered already green in her hole it happened to be old Bazouge who came with the pauper's coffin under his arm to pack her up he was again precious drunk that day but a jolly fellow all the same and as lively as a cricket when he recognized the customer he had to deal with he uttered several philosophical reflections while performing his little business every one has to go there's no occasion for jostling there's room for every one and it's stupid being in a hurry that just slows you up all I want to do is to please everybody some will others won't what's the result? here's one who wouldn't then she would so she was made to wait anyhow it's all right now and faith he's earned it merrily just take it easy and when he took hold of Gervais in his big dirty hands he was seized with emotion and he gently raised this woman who had had so great a longing for his attentions then as he laid her out with paternal care at the bottom of the coffin he stuttered between two hiccoughs you know now listen Vibi the gay called the ladies consola there you're happy now go bye bye my beauty end of La Samoire by Emile Zola recording by David Lazarus