eleven o'clock
Gervaise wiped her forehead with her wet hand . Shaking her head again , she pulled another garment out of the water . Both of them kept silence for a moment . The wash-house was quieting down , for eleven o'clock had struck . Half of the washerwomen were perched on the edge of their tubs , eating sausages between slices of bread and drinking from open bottles of wine . Only housewives who had come to launder small bundles of family linen were hurrying to finish . Occasional beetle blows could still be heard amid the subdued laughter and gossip half-choked by the greedy chewing of jawbones .