Gervaise lasted in this state several months.  She fell lower and lower still, dying of starvation a little every day.  As soon as she had four sous, she drank and fought the walls.  Her landlord had decided to turn her out of her room on the sixth floor, but allowed her to turn into a hole under the staircase.  It was inside there, on some old straw, that her teeth chattered, whilst her stomach was empty and her bones were frozen.  The earth would not have her evidently.  She was becoming idiotic; she did not even think of making an end of herself by jumping out of the sixth floor window on to the pavement of the court-yard beneath.  Death was 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 of the filth and hardship of her spoilt life.  Over-gorging and dissoluteness killed her, said the Lorilleux.