“Oh! that’s certain, quite certain,” repeated Gervaise.

“She’s a sister now—­nothing but a sister,” murmured Lantier.

From that evening Lantier frequently called at the Rue de la Goutte d’Or.  He came when the zinc-worker was there, inquiring after his health the moment he passed the door, and affecting to have solely called for him.  Then, shaved, his hair nicely divided, and always wearing his overcoat, he would take a seat by the window, and converse politely with the manners of a man who had received a good education.  Thus the Coupeaus learnt little by little some particulars of his life.

During the last eight years he had for a while managed a hat factory; and when they asked him why he had retired from it, he merely alluded to the rascality of a partner.  He was forever saying that he was on the point of making a first-class arrangement; some wholesale manufacturers were about to establish him in business and trust him with an enormous stock.  Meanwhile, he did nothing whatever but walk about like a gentleman.  In his effusiveness Coupeau suggested that Lantier become a lodger, and overruled all objections.  Nevertheless, Lantier showed no intention for a long while of trespassing on the bibulous good nature of Coupeau.

V.—­The Beginning of the End

Coupeau was now becoming a confirmed drunkard and presently Lantier ceased paying for his lodging, talking of clearing up everything as soon as he had completed an agreement.  Thus Gervaise had two men to support, while her increasing indolence and gluttony continuously reduced her earnings.  Custom began to fall away faster and faster and soon they were living almost entirely on credit.  Then Madame Coupeau, who had come to live with her son and Gervaise soon after the shop was opened, died.  The funeral was celebrated with pomp and feast greatly in excess of the resources of the Coupeaus and helped considerably towards the final ruin.

As they were sitting down to the funeral meal the landlord presented himself, looking very grave, and wearing a broad decoration on his frock coat.  He bowed in silence, and went straight to the little room, where he knelt down.  He was very pious; he prayed in the accustomed manner of a priest, then made the sign of the cross in the air, whilst he sprinkled the body with the sprig of box.  All the family leaving the table, stood up, greatly moved.  Mr. Marescot, having ended his devotions, passed into the shop and said to the Coupeaus, “I have called for the two quarters’ rent which remain unpaid.  Can you give it me?”

“No, sir, not quite,” stammered Gervaise.  “You will understand, with the misfortune which has—­”

“No doubt, but everyone has his troubles,” resumed the landlord, spreading out his immense fingers.  “I am very sorry, but I cannot wait any longer.  If I am not paid by the morning after to-morrow, I shall be forced to have recourse to expulsion.”