Section 13 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 A. Visitelli. Fifth part of Chapter 3. My boots was still eating. He had asked for another loaf. He finished what there was of the cheese, and as there was some cream left, he had the salad bowl passed to him, in which he sliced some large pieces of bread, as though for a soup. The gentleman is really remarkable, said Monsieur Madignier, again giving way to his admiration. Then the men rose to get their pipes. They stood for a moment behind my boots, patting him on the back, and asking him if he was feeling better. Maybe the smoker lifted him up in his chair, but tonneur de Dieu, the animal, had doubled in weight. Coupeau joked that my boots was only getting started, that Nye was going to settle down and really eat for the rest of the night. The waiters were startled and quickly vanished from sight. The gentleman who had gone downstairs for a moment came up to report the proprietor's reaction. He was standing behind his bar, pale as death. His wife, dreadfully upset, was wondering if any bakeries were still open. Even the cat seemed deep in despair. This was as funny as could be, really worth the price of the dinner. It was impossible to have a proper dinner party without my boots, the bottomless pit. The other men eyed him with the brooding jealousy as they puffed on their pipes. Indeed, to be able to eat so much, you had to be very solidly built. I wouldn't care to be obliged to support you, said Madame Goudron. Ah no, you may take my word for that. I say, little mother, no jokes, replied my boots, casting a side glance at his neighbour's return figure. You've swallowed more than I have. The others applauded, shouting, Bravo, it was well answered. It was now pitch dark outside. Three gas jets were flaring in the room, diffusing dim rays in the midst of the tobacco smoke. The waiters, after serving the coffee and the brandy, had removed the last piles of dirty plates. Down below, beneath the three acacias, dancing had commenced, a corne à piston and two fiddles playing very loud, and mingling in the warm night air with the rather hoarse laughter of women. We must have a punch, cried my boots, two quarts of brandy, lots of lemon and a little sugar. But Coupeau, seeing the anxious look on Gervais' face in front of him, got up from the table, saying that there should be no more drink. They had emptied twenty-five quarts, a quarter-and-a-half to each person, counting the children as grown-up people. That was already too much. They had had a feed together in good fellowship and without ceremony because they esteemed each other and wished to celebrate the event of the day among themselves. Everything had been very nice. They'd had lots of fun. It wouldn't do to get cock-eyed drunk now out of respect to the ladies. And that was all he had to say. They'd come together to toast a marriage and they had done so. Coupeau delivered the little speech with convincing sincerity and punctuated each phrase by placing his hand on his heart. He won whole-hearted approval from Laurier and Monsieur Marignier, but the other four men, especially my boots, were already well lit and sneered. They declared in hoarse drunken voices that they were thirsty and wanted drinks. Those who were thirsty are thirsty and those who aren't thirsty aren't thirsty, remarked my boots. Therefore we'll order the punch. No one need take offence. The aristocrats can drink sugar and water. And as the zinc worker commenced another sermon, the other who had risen on his legs gave himself a slap, exclaiming, Come, let's have no more of that, my boy. Waiter, two quarts of your aged stuff. So Coupeau said, very well, only they would settle for the dinner at once. It would prevent any disputes. The well-behaved people did not want to pay for the drunkards. And it just happened that my boots, up to searching in his pockets for a long time, could produce only three francs and seven sous. Well, why had they made him wait all that time on the route to Saint-Denis? He could not let himself be drowned, and so he'd broken into his five franc piece with the fault of the others. That was all. He ended by giving the three francs, keeping the seven souss, with the moro's tobacco. Coupeau, who was furious, would have knocked him over, had not chervais greatly frightened, pulled him by his coat, and begged him to keep cool. He decided to borrow the two francs off L'Orilleur, who, after refusing them, lent them on the sly, for his wife would never have consented to his doing so. Monsieur Madignier went round with a plate. The spinster and the ladies who were alone, Madame Laurent, Madame Foucaignet, mademoiselle Romangeau, discreetly placed their five franc pieces in it first. Then the gentlemen went to the other end of the room and made up the accounts. They were fifteen. It amounted, therefore, to seventy-five francs. When the seventy-five francs were in the plate, each man added five souss for the waiters. It took a quarter of an hour of laborious calculations before everything was settled to the general satisfaction. But when Monsieur Madignier, who wished to deal direct with the landlord, had got him to step up, the whole party became lost in astonishment on hearing him say with a smile that there was still something due to him. There were some extras, and as the word extras was greeted with angry exclamations, he entered into details. Twenty-five quarts of wine instead of twenty, the number agreed upon beforehand. The frosted eggs, which he had added as the dessert, was rather scanty. Finally a quarter of a bottle of rum served with the coffee, in case anyone preferred rum. Then a formidable quarrel ensued. Coupeau, who was appealed to, protested against everything. He had never mentioned twenty quarts. As for the frosted eggs, they were included in the dessert, so much for the worse for the landlord if he chose to add them without being asked to do so. There remained the rum, a mere nothing, just a mode of increasing the bill by putting on the table spirits that no one thought anything about. It was on the tray with the coffee, he cried. Therefore it goes with the coffee.  It's six francs more, repeated the landlord. Pay me my six francs, and with all that I haven't counted the four loaves, that gentlemanate. The whole party pressing forward surrounded him with furious gestures and a yelping of voices choking with rage. The women especially threw aside all reserve and refused to add another saintine. This was some wedding dinner. Mademoiselle Romanjou vowed she would never again attend such a party. Madame Fourconnier declared that she'd had a very disappointing meal. At home she could have had a finger-licking dish for only two francs. Madame Gaudran bitterly complained that she'd been shoved down to the worst end of the table next to my boot, so it ignored her. These parties never turned out well, one should be more careful whom one invites. Chauvez had taken refuge with Mother Coupeau near one of the windows, feeling shamed as she realised that all these recriminations would fall back upon her. Monsieur Madignier ended by going down with the landlord, one could hear them arguing below. Then when half an hour had gone by, the cardboard box manufacturer returned. He had settled the matter by giving three francs, but the party continued annoyed and exasperated, constantly returning to the question of the extras. And the uproar increased from an act of vigor on Madame Bosch's part. She had kept an eye on Bosch and at length detected him squeezing Madame Le Rha around the waist in a corner. Then with all her strength she flung a water pitcher which smashed against the wall. One can easily see that your husband's a tailor, Madame, said the tall widow with a curl of the lip, full of a double meaning. He's a petticoat specialist, even though I gave him some pretty hard kicks under the table. The harmony of the evening was altogether upset. Everyone became more and more ill-tempered. Monsieur Madignier suggested some singing, but Bibi the smoker who had a fine voice had disappeared some time before. And mademoiselle Romanjou, who was leaning out of the window, caught sight of him under the acacias, swinging round a big girl who was bare-headed. The cornet à pistons and two fiddles were playing le marchant de moutarde. The party now began to break up. My boots and the go-dran went down to the dance with Bosch sneaking along after them. The twirling couples could be seen from the windows. The night was still as though exhausted from the heat of the day. A serious conversation started between Lorraine and Monsieur Madignier. The ladies examined their dresses carefully to see if they'd been stained. Madame Lorraine's fringe looked as though it had been dipped in the coffee. Madame Folconier's chint's dress was spotted with gravy. Mother Coupeau's green shawl, fallen from off a chair, was discovered in a corner, rolled up and trodden upon. But it was Madame Lorraine especially who became more ill-tempered still. She had a stain on the back of her dress. It was useless for the others to declare that she had not. She felt it. And by twisting herself about in front of a looking-glass, she ended by catching a glimpse of it. What did I say? cried she. It's gravy from the fowl. The waiter shall pay for the dress. I will bring an action against him. Ah, this is a fit ending to such a day. I should have done better to have stayed in bed. To begin with, I'm off. I've had enough of their wretched wedding. And she left the room in a rage, causing the staircase to shake beneath her heavy footsteps. Lorraine ran after her. But all she would consent to was that she would wait five minutes on the pavement outside if he wanted them to go off together. She ought to have left directly after the storm as she wished to do. She would make Coopo sorry for that day. Coopo was dismayed when he heard how angry she was. Chauvet has agreed to leave at once to avoid embarrassing him any more. There was a flurry of quick good-night kisses. When Monsieur Madignier was to escort Mother Coopo home, Madame Bosch would take Claude and Etienne with her for the bridal night. The children were sound asleep on chairs, stuffed full from the dinner. Just as the bridal couple in Lorraine were about to go out the door, a quarrel broke out near the dance floor between their group and another group. Bosch and my boots were kissing a lady and wouldn't give her up to her escorts to soldiers. It was scarcely eleven o'clock. On the Boulevard de la Chapelle and in the entire neighbourhood of the Gout d'Arch, the fortnight's pay, which fell due on that Saturday, produced an enormous drunken uproar. Madame Lorraine was waiting beneath the gas lamp about twenty faces from the silver windmill. She took her husband's arm and walked on in front without looking round. At such a rate that Gervais and Coopo got quite out of breath in trying to keep up with them. Now and again they stepped off the pavement to leave room for some drunkard who had fallen there. Lorraine looked back, endeavouring to make things pleasant. We will see you as far as your door, said he.  Or they not to have put their marriage off and have saved a few soos to buy some furniture, so it have had a home of their own on the first night. They would be comfortable right up under the roof, packed into a little closet at ten francs a month, where there was not even the slightest air. I've given notice we're not going to use the room at the top of the house, timidly interposed, Coopo. We're keeping Chavais's room, which is larger. Madame Lorraine forgot herself. She turned abruptly round. That's worse than all, cried she. You're going to sleep in Clump Clump's room. Chavais became quite pale.  And she fully understood it too, her sister-in-law's exclamation. The Clump Clump's room was the room in which she had lived for a month with Lanciae, where the shreds of her past life still hung about. Coopo did not understand this, but merely felt hurt at the harsh nickname. You do wrong to Chris and others, he replied angrily. You don't know perhaps that in the neighborhood they call you cow's tail because of your hair. There, that doesn't please you, does it? Why should we not keep the room on the first floor? Tonight the children won't sleep there, and we should be very comfortable. Madame Lorraine added nothing further, but retired into her dignity, horribly annoyed at being called cow's tail. To cheer up Chavais, Coopo squeezed her arms softly. He even succeeded in making her smile by whispering into her ear that they were setting up housekeeping with the grand sum of seven souves. Three big two-soup pieces and one little-soup, which he jingled in his pocket. When they reached the Hotel Boncair, the two couples wished each other good night with an angry air. And as Coopo pushed the two women into each other's arms, calling them a couple of ninnies, a drunken fellow who seemed to want to go to the right, suddenly slipped to the left and came tumbling between them. Why, it's old Bazouge, said Lorraine, he's had his fill today. Chavais frightened, squeezed up against the door of the Hotel.  Don't be afraid, he's harmless, continued Lorraine. He's a neighbour of ours, the third room in the passage before us. He would find himself in a nice mess if his people were to see him like this. Old Bazouge, however, felt offended at the young woman's evident terror.   No doubt I've had a drop. When work's plentiful, one must grease the wheels. It's not you nor your friends who would have carried down the stiffen of forty-seven stone whom I and the pal brought from the fourth floor to the pavement. And without smashing him, too, I like jolly people. But Chavais retreated further into the doorway, seized with a longing to cry, which spoiled her day of sober-minded joy. She no longer thought of kissing her sister-in-law, she implored Coupo to get rid of the drunkard. Then Bazouge, as he stumbled about, made a gesture of philosophical disdain.  You'll perhaps be glad to do so one of these days. Yes, I know some women would be much obliged if we did carry him off. And as Laurier led him away, he turned around and stuttered out a last sentence between two hiccups. When you're dead, listen to this. When you're dead, it's for a long, long time. End of chapter three. Recording by Martin Geeson in Hazelmere, Surrey. La Samoire by Émile Zola. Translated by Ernest Avisatelli. Then followed four years of hard work. In the neighbourhood of Chavais and Coupo had the reputation of being a happy couple, living in retirement without quarrels and taking a short walk regularly every Sunday in the direction of Saouan. The wife worked twelve hours a day at Madame Façonnier's and still found means to keep their lodging as clean and bright as a new-coined sous and to prepare the meals for all her little family morning and evening. The husband never got drunk, brought his wages home every fortnight and smoked a pipe at his window in the evening to get a breath of fresh air before going to bed. They were frequently alluded to on account of their nice pleasant ways and as between them they earned close upon nine francs a day it was reckoned they were able to put by a good deal of money. However, during their first months together they had to struggle hard to get by. Their wedding had left them owing two hundred francs. Also, they detested the Hotel Bancourt as they didn't like the other occupants. Their dream was to have a home of their own with their own furniture. They were always figuring out how much they would need and decided three hundred and fifty francs at least in order to be able to buy little items that came up later. They were in despair at ever being able to collect such a large sum when a lucky chance came their way. An old gentleman at Placeur offered to take the older boy Claude and send him to an academy down there. The old man who loved art had previously been much impressed by Claude's sketches. Claude had already begun to cost them quite a bit and now with only Etienne to support they were able to accumulate the money in little over seven months. One day they were finally able to buy their own furniture from a second-hand dealer on Rue Ballem. Their hearts filled with happiness they celebrated by walking home along the exterior boulevards. They had purchased a bed, a night table, a chest of drawers with a marble top, a wardrobe, a round table covered with oil cloth and six chairs all were of dark mahogany. They also brought blankets, linen, and kitchen utensils that were scarcely used. It meant settling down and giving themselves a status in life as property owners, as persons to be respected. For two months past they had been busy seeking some new apartments. At first they wanted above everything to hire these in the big house of the Rue de la Goutte d'Or but there was not a single room to live there so they had to relinquish their old dream. To tell the truth Gervais was rather glad in her heart the neighborhood of the Loire-leur, almost door-to-door frightened her immensely. Then they looked about elsewhere. Coupeau very properly did not wish to be far from Madame Fassonniers so that Gervais could easily run home at any hour of the day and at length they met with exactly what suited them. There was a large room with a small closet and a kitchen in the Rue Nure de la Goutte d'Or almost opposite the Laundresses. This was a small two-story building with a very steep staircase. There were two apartments on the second floor one to the left, the other to the right. The ground floor was occupied by a man who rented out carriages which filled the sheds in the large stable yard by the street. Gervais was delighted with this as she was back in a country town. With no close neighbors there would be no gossip to worry about in this little corner. It reminded her of a small lane outside the ramparts of Plessin. She could even see her own window while ironing at the laundry by just tilting her head to the side. They took possession of their new abode at the April quarter. Gervais was then eight months advanced but she showed great courage saying with a laugh that the baby would not enter as she worked. She felt its influence growing within her and giving her strength. Ah well, she just laughed at Coupeau whenever he wanted her to lie down and rest herself. She would take to her bed when the labor pains came.  She made their new place bright and shiny before helping her husband install the furniture. She loved the furniture, polishing it and becoming almost heartbroken of the slightest scratch. Any time she knocked into the furniture while cleaning, she would stop with a sudden shock as though she had hurt herself. The chest of drawers was especially dear to her. She thought it handsome, sturdy and most respectable looking. The dream that she hadn't dared to mention was to get a clock and put it right in the middle of the marble top. It would make a splendid effect. She probably would have bought one right away except for the expected baby. The couple were thoroughly enchanted with their new home. Vetien's bed occupied this small closet where there was still room to put another child's crib. The kitchen was a very tiny affair and as dark as night but by leaving the door wide open one could just manage to see. Besides, Gervais had not to cook meals for thirty people. All she wanted was room to make her soup. As for the large room it was their pride. The first thing in the morning they drew the curtains of the alcove, white calico curtains and the room was thus transformed into a dining room with a table in the centre and the wardrobe and chest of drawers facing each other. They stopped up the chimneys since it burned as much as fifteen sous of coal a day. A small cast-iron stove on the marble hearth gave them enough warmth on coal days for only seven sous. Coupeau had also done his best to decorate the walls. There was a large engraving showing a Marshal of France on horseback with a baton in his hand. Family photographs were arranged in two rows on top of the chest of drawers on each side of an old holy water basin in which they kept matches. Buses of Pascal and Barangé were on top of the wardrobe. It was really a handsome room. Guess how much we pay here? Gervais would ask of every visitor she had. And whenever they guessed too high a sum she triumphed and delighted at being so well suited for such a little money cried one hundred and fifty francs, not a sous more. Isn't it almost like having it for nothing? The street rue Nerve de la Goutte d'Or played an important part in their contentment. Gervais's whole life was there as she travelled back and forth from the hotel and Madame Fosonnier's laundry. Coupeau now went down every evening and stood on the door step to smoke his pipe. The poorly paved street rose steeply and had no sidewalks. Towards rue de la Goutte d'Or there was some gloomy shops with dirty windows. There were shoemakers, coopers or run-down grocery and a bankrupt café whose clothes shutters were covered with posters. In the opposite direction towards Paris four-story buildings blocked the sky. Their ground floor shops were all occupied by laundries with one exception, a green painted storefront typical of a small town hairdresser.  It lighted up this drab corner with a gay brightness of its copper bowls which were always shining. The most pleasant part of the street was in between where the buildings were fewer and lower, letting in more sunlight. The carriage sheds, the plant which manufactured soda water and the wash house opposite made a wide expanse of quietness. The muffled voices of the washer women and the rhythmic puffing of the steam engines seemed to deepen the almost religious silence. Open fields and narrow lanes vanishing between dark walls gave it the air of a country village. Coupeau always amused by the infrequent pedestrians having to jump over continuous streams of soapy water said it reminded him of a country town where his uncle had taken him when he was five years old. Gervais's greatest joy was a tree growing in the courtyard to the left of their window, and a case here that had stretched out a single branch and yet with its meagre foliage lent charm to the entire street. It was on the last day of April that Gervais was confined. The pains came on in the afternoon towards four o'clock as she was ironing a pair of curtains at Madame Fassonnier's. She would not go home at once but remained there wriggling about on a chair and continuing her ironing every time the pain allowed her to do so. The curtains were wanted quickly and she obstinately made a point of finishing them. Besides perhaps after all it was only a colic. It would never do to be frightened by a bit of a stomach ache. But as she was starting on some shirts she became quite pale. She was obliged to leave the workshop and cross the street doubled in two holding onto the walls. One of the work women offered to accompany her. She declined but begged her to go instead for the midwife close by in the rue de la Charbonnier. This was only a force alarm. There was no need to make a fuss. She would be like that no doubt all through the night. It was not going to prevent her from getting cupot's dinner ready as soon as she was indoors. Then she perhaps might lie down on the bed a little but without undressing. On the staircase she was seized with such a violent pain that she was obliged to sit down on one of the stairs and she pressed her two fists against her mouth to prevent herself from crying out. For she would have been ashamed to have been found there by any man had one come up. The pain passed away. She was able to open her door feeling relieved and thinking that she had decidedly been mistaken. That evening she was going to make a stew with some neck chops. All went well while she peeled the potatoes. The chops were cooking in a saucepan when the pains returned. She mixed the gravy as she stamped about in front of the stove almost blinded with her tears. If she was going to give birth there was no reason why cupot should be kept without his dinner.  She went into the other room and thought that she would have time to lay the cloth at one end of the table. But she was obliged to put down the bottle of wine very quickly. She no longer had strength to reach the bed. She fell prostrate. She had more pains on a mat on the floor. When the midwife arrived a quarter of an hour later she found mother and baby lying there on the floor. The zinc worker was still employed at the hospital. Gervais would not have him disturbed. When he came home at seven o'clock he found her in bed, well covered up, looking very pale on the pillow, and the child crying swat in a shawl at its mother's feet.  I say you don't make much fuss about it. The time was sneeze and it's all over. She smiled faintly, then she murmured, it's a girl. Right, the zinc worker replied joking so as to enliven her. I ordered a girl. Well, now I've got what I wanted. You do everything I wish. And taking the child up in his arms he continued, let's have a look at you, miss. Oh, you've got a very black little mug. It'll get white and ever fear. You must be good.  Gervais looked at her daughter very seriously with wide open eyes, slowly overshadowed with sadness. For she would rather have had a boy. Boys can take care of themselves and don't have to run such risks on the streets of Paris as girls do. The midwife took the infant from cupot. She forbade Gervais to do any talking. It was bad enough there was so much noise around her. Then the zinc worker said that he must tell the news to mother Coupot and the L'Orealur, but he was dying with hunger. He must first of all have his dinner. It was a great worry to the invalid to see him have to wait on himself, run to the kitchen for the stew, eat it out of a soup plate and not be able to find the bread. In spite of being told not to do so, she bewailed her condition and fidgeted about in her bed.   A poor old man would not think it kind of her to be nursing herself up there whilst he was dining so badly. At least were the potatoes cooked enough? She no longer remembered whether she had put salt in them. End of the first part of Chapter 4 Recording by David Lazarus Section 15 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 David Lazarus La Samoire by Emil Zola Translated by Ernest Aves Telly Second part of Chapter 4 Keep quiet, cry the midwife. I phoned if she could stop her from wearing herself out, said Cooper with his mouth full. If you were not here, I bet she'd get up and cut my bread.  You mustn't move about. Otherwise it'll be a fortnight before you'll be able to stand on your legs. Your stew's very good, madam.  The midwife declined, but she was willing to accept a glass of wine, because it had upset her, said she to find the poor woman with the baby on the mat. Cooper at length went off to tell the news to his relations. Half an hour later he returned with all of them, mother Cooper, the L'Orealur, and madam L'Era, whom he had met at the ladders. I brought you the whole gang, cried Cooper. I can't be helped. They wanted to see you. Now don't open your mouth. It's forbidden. I'm only, you know, as for me I'm going to make them some coffee and of the right sort. He disappeared into the kitchen. Mother Cooper after kissing Jovay's became amazed at the child's size. The other two women also kissed the invalid on her cheeks, and all three standing before the bed commented with diverse exclamations on the details of the confinement, a most remarkable confinement, just like having a tooth pulled nothing more. Madam L'Era, I examined the baby all over, declared she was well-formed, even added that she could grow up into an attractive woman. Noticing that the head had been squeezed into a point on top, she needed it gently despite the infant's cries, trying to round it a bit. Madam L'Orealur grabbed the baby from her.  Then she tried to figure out who the baby resembled. This almost led to a quarrel. L'Orealur, peering over the woman's shoulders, insisted that the little girl didn't look the least bit like Coupot. Well, maybe a little around the nose, nothing more.  Certainly there were no eyes like that in the Coupot family. Coupot, however, had failed to reappear. One could hear him in the kitchen struggling with the grate and the coffee pot. Giveriz was worrying herself frightfully. It was not the proper thing for a man to make coffee, and she called and told him what to do, without listening to the midwife's energetic hush. Here we are, said Coupot, entering with the coffee pot in his hand. Oh, didn't I just have a bother with it? It all went wrong on purpose. Now we'll drink out of glasses, won't we, because you know the people still at the shop. They seated themselves around the table, and the zinc worker insisted on pouring out the coffee himself. It smelled very strong. It was none of that weak stuff. When the midwife had sipped hers up, she went off. Everything was going on nicely. She was not required. If the young woman did not pass a good night, they would descend for her on the morrow. She was scarcely down the scare case when Madame L'Orealur called her a glutton and a good-for-nothing.  But Coupot took her part. He would willingly fork out the fifteen francs. After all, those sort of women spent their youth in studying. They were right to charge a good price. It was then L'Orealur who got into a quarrel with Madame L'Orealur by maintaining that in order to have a son, the head of the bed should be turned to the north. She shrugged her shoulders at such nonsense, offering another formula which consisted in hiding under the mattress without letting your wife know a handful of fresh nettles picked in bright sunlight. The table had been pushed over close to the bed, until ten o'clock Gervais lay there, smiling, although she was only half awake. She was becoming more and more weary. Her head turned sideways on the pillow. She no longer had the energy to utter a remark or a gesture. It seemed to her that she was dead, a very sweet death from the depths of which she was happy to observe the others still in the land of the living. The thin cries of her baby daughter rose above the hum of heavy voices that were discussing a recent murder on Rue du Bois Puy at the other end of La Chapelle. Then as the visitors were thinking of leaving, they spoke of the christening. The L'Orealur had promised to be godfather and godmother. They looked very glum over the matter. However, if they had not been asked to stand, they would have felt rather peculiar. Coupeau did not see any need for christening the little one. It certainly would not procure an income of ten thousand francs, and besides, she might catch a cold from it. The less one had to do with priests, the better. But mother Coupeau called him a heathen. The L'Orealur, without going and eating consecrated bread in church, plumed on their religious sentiments. It shall be next Sunday if you like, said the chain maker, and Gervais having consented by a nod, everyone kissed her and told her to take good care of herself. They also wished the baby goodbye. Each one went and lent over the little trembling body with smiles and loving words as those she were able to understand. They called her Nanna, the pet name for Anna, which was her godmother's name. Good night, Nanna. Come be a good girl, Nanna.  He smoked slowly, deeply affected and uttering sentences between the puffs. Well, old woman, they made your headache, haven't they? You see, I couldn't prevent them coming. After all, it shows their friendship, but we're alone, aren't we? I wanted to be alone like this with you. It has seemed such a long evening to me. Oh, poor little thing, she's had a lot to go through. Those shrimps, when they come out into the world, have no idea of the pain they cause. I must really almost be like being split in two. Where does it hurt the most that I may kiss it and make it well? He had carefully slid one of his big hands under her back and now he drew her towards him bending over to kiss her stomach through the covers. Touched by a rough man's compassion for the suffering of a woman in childbirth, he inquired if he was hurting her. Gervais felt very happy and answered him that it didn't hurt any more at all. She was only worried about getting up as soon as possible because there was no time to lie about. He assured her that he'd be responsible for earning the money for the new little one. He would be a real bum if he abandoned her and the little rascal. The way he figured it, what really counted was bringing her up properly. Wasn't that so? Goupot did not sleep much that night. He covered up the fire in the stove. Every hour he had to get up to give the baby spoonfuls of lukewarm sugar and water. That did not prevent his going off to work in the morning as usual. He even took advantage of his lunch hour to make a declaration of the birth of the mares. During this time, Madame Bosch, who had been informed of the event, had hastened to go and pass the day with Gervais. But the latter, after ten hours of sleep, bewailed her position, saying that she already felt pains all over her through having been so long in bed. She would become quite ill if they did not let her get up. In the evening, when Goupot returned home, she told him all her worries. She had put her beside herself to see a stranger installed in her room, opening the drawers, and touching her things. On the morrow, the concierge on returning from Samarins found her up, dressed, sweeping, and getting her husband's dinner ready, and it was impossible to persuade her to go to bed again. They were trying to make a fool of her, perhaps. It was all very well for ladies to pretend to be unable to move when one was not rich. One had no time for that sort of thing. After three days after her confinement, she was ironing petticoats at Madame Fosonnier's, banging her irons and all in a perspiration from the great heat of the stove. On the Saturday evening, Madame Lorila brought her presents for her godchild, a card that cost thirty-five sous, and a christening dress plaited and trimmed with some cheap lace, which she had got for six francs because it was slightly soiled. On the morrow, Lorila, as godfather, gave the mother six pounds of sugar. They certainly did things properly. At the baptism supper, which took place at the coupos that evening, they did not come empty-handed. Lorila carried a bottle of fine wine under each arm, and his wife brought a large custard pie from a famous pastry shop on Chaussée-Clingoncourt. But the Lorila made sure that the entire neighbourhood knew they had spent twenty francs. As soon as Jovées learned of their gossiping, furious she stopped giving them credit for generosity. It was at the christening feast that the coupos ended by becoming intimately acquainted with their neighbours on the opposite side of the landing. The other lodging in the little house was occupied by two persons, mother and son, the gougiers, as they were called. Until then, the two families had merely nodded to each other on the stairs and in the street, nothing more. The coupos thought that their neighbours seemed rather bearish. Then, the mother, having carried up a pail of water for Jovées on the morrow of her confinement, the latter had thought it proper to invite them to their feast, more especially as they consider them very respectable people, and naturally they became well acquainted with each other. The gougiers came from the département du Nord. The mother mended lace, the son a blacksmith worked at an iron-bowl factory. They had lived in their lodging for five years. Behind a quiet peacefulness of their life, a long-standing sorrow was hidden. Gougier the father, one day when furiously drunk at Lille, had beaten a comrade to death with an iron-bowl and had afterwards strangled himself in prison with his handkerchief. The widow and child who had come to Paris after their misfortune always felt the tragedy hanging over their heads and atoned for it by a strict honesty and an unvarying gentleness and courage. They had a certain amount of pride in their attitude and regarded themselves as better than other people. Madame Gougier dressed in black as usual, her forehead framed in her nun's hood had a pale calm matronly face as if the whiteness of the lace and the delicate work of her fingers had cast a glow of serenity over her. Gougier was twenty-three years old, huge magnificently built with deep blue eyes and rosy cheeks and the strength of Hercules. His comrades at the shop called him golden-mouthed because of his handsome blonde beard. Gervais at once felt a great friendship for these people. When she entered their home for the first time, she was amazed at the cleanliness of the lodging. There was no denying it one might blow about the place without raising a grain of dust on the tiled floor shone like a mirror. Madame Gougier made her enter her son's room just to see it. It was pretty and white like the room of a young girl. An iron bedstead with Muslim curtains, a table, a wash stand and a narrow bookcase hanging against the wall. Then there were pictures all over the place, figures cut out, coloured engravings nailed up with foretacks and portraits of all kinds of persons taken from the illustrated papers. Madame Gougier said with a smile that her son was a big baby. He found that reading in the evening put him to sleep, so he amused himself looking at pictures. Gervais spent an hour with her neighbour without noticing the passing of time. Madame Gougier had gone to sit by the window and work on her lace. Gervais was fascinated by the hundreds of pins that held the lace and she felt happy to be there. Breathing in the good clean atmosphere of this home where such a delicate task enforced a sort of meditative silence. The Gougiers were worth visiting. They worked long hours and placed more than a quarter of their fortnight's earnings in the savings bank. In the neighbourhood everyone nodded to them. Everyone talked of their savings. Gougier never had a hole in his clothes always went out in a clean short blue blouse without a stain. He was very polite and even a trifle timid in spite of his broad shoulders. The washerwomen at the end of the street laughed to see him hold down his head when he passed them. He did not like their oaths and thought it disgusting that women should be constantly uttering foul words. One day however he came home tipsy. Then Madame Gougier for sole reproach held his father's portrait before him a door above a painting hidden away at the bottom of a drawer and ever since that lesson Gougier never drank more than was good for him without however any hatred for wine is necessary to the workmen. On Sundays he walked out with his mother who took hold of his arm. He would generally conduct her to Vassan at other times they would go to the theatre. His mother remained his passion. He still spoke to her as though he were a little child. Square-headed his skin toughened by the wielding of the heavy hammer, he somewhat resembled the larger animals, dull of intellect, though it all the same. End of Second Part of Chapter 4 Recording by David Lazarus Section 16 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 David Lazarus La Samoire by Emile Zola translated by Ernest Avisatelli. Third Part of Chapter 4 In the early days of their acquaintance, Gervais embarrassed him immensely. Then in a few weeks he became accustomed to her. He watched for her that he might carry up her parcels, treated her as a sister with an abrupt familiarity, and cut out pictures for her. One morning, however, having opened her door without knocking, he beheld her half undressed, washing her neck, and for a week he did not dare to look her in the face so much so that he ended up by making her blush herself. Young Cassie, with the casual wit of a born Parisian, called golden mouth adult. It was all right not to get drunk all the time or chase women, but still a man must be a man, or else he might as well wear skirts.  Gougé vigorously defended himself against the charge. But this didn't prevent the two working men from becoming best of friends. They went off to work together in the mornings and sometimes had a glass of beer together on the way home. It eventually came about that golden mouth could render a service to Young Cassie, one of those favors that is remembered forever. It was the second of December. The zinc worker decided just for the fun of it to go into the city and watch the rioting. He didn't really care about the Republic or Napoleon or anything like that, but he liked the smell of gunpowder and the sound of the rifles firing. He would have been arrested as a rioter if the blacksmith hadn't turned up at the barricade at just that moment and helped him escape. Gougé was very serious as they walked back up the Rue du Faubourg Poisonnière. He was interested in politics and believed in the Republic, but he had never fired a gun because the common people were getting battles for the middle classes who always seemed to get the benefit of them. As they reached the top of the slope of the Rue du Faubourg Poisonnière, Gougé turned to look back at Paris and the mobs. After all, some day people would be sorry that they just stood by and did nothing.  That evening the Coupos invited the Gougé to dinner. After dessert, Yonkécy and Goldenmouth kissed each other on the cheek. Their lives were joined till death. For three years the existence of the two families went on on either side of the landing without an event. Jervais was able to take care of her daughter and still work most of the week. She was now a skilled worker on fine laundry and earned up to three francs a day. She decided to put Etienne, now nearly eight, into a small boarding school on Rue de Châtres for five francs a week. Despite the expenses for the two children, they were able to save twenty or thirty francs each month. Once they had six hundred francs saved, Jervais often lay awake thinking of her ambitious dream. She wanted to rent a small shop, hire workers and go into the laundry business herself. If this effort worked, they would have a steady income from savings in twenty years. They could retire and live in the country. Yet she hesitated, saying that she was looking for the right shop. She was giving herself time to think it over. Their savings were safe in the bank and growing larger. So in three years' time she had only fulfilled one of her dreams. She had bought a clock. But even this clock made of rosewood with twined columns and pendulum of gilded brass was being paid for an instalments of twenty-two each Monday for a year. She got upset if Coupo tried to wind it. She liked to be the only one to lift off the glass dome. It was under the glass dome behind the clock that she hid her bank book. Sometimes when she was dreaming of her shop she would stare fixedly at the clock lost in thought. The Coupos went out nearly every Sunday with a gougé. They were pleasant little excursions, sometimes to have fried fish at Saint-Ois, and others a rabbit at Viscin, in the garden of some eating housekeeper without any grand display. The men drank sufficiently to quench their thirst and returned home as writers' ninepins, giving their arms to the ladies. In the evening before going to bed the two families made up accounts and each paid half the expenses and there was never the least quarrel about a zoo more or less. The laurelure became jealous of the gougé. It seemed strange to them to see young Cassie and clump clump going places all the time with strangers instead of their own relations. But that's the way it was. Some folks didn't care a bit about their family. Now that they had saved a few zoo they thought they were really somebody. Madame Laurelure was much annoyed to see her brother getting away from her influence and began to continually run down jovets to everyone. On the other hand Madame Larra took the young wife's side. Mother Coupeau tried to get along with everybody. She only wanted to be welcomed by all three of her children. Now that her eyesight was getting dimmer and dimmer, she only had one regular house cleaning job but she was able to pick up some small jobs now and again. On the day on which Nana was three years old, Coupeau on returning home in the evening found jovets quite upset. She refused to talk about it. There was nothing to do with her, she said. But as she had the table all wrong, standing still with the plates in her hands absorbed in deep reflection, her husband insisted upon knowing what was the matter. Well, it is this, she ended by saying, the little draper shop in the Rue de la Goutte d'Or is to let. I saw it only an hour ago when going to buy some cotton. It gave me quite a turn. It was a very decent shop and in that big house where they dreamed of living in former days. There was the shop, a back room and two other rooms to the right and left, in short just what they required. The rooms were rather small but well placed. Only she considered they wanted too much. The landlord talked of five hundred francs. So you've been over the place and asked the price, said Coupeau. Oh, you know only out of curiosity, replied she, affecting an air of indifference. One looks about and goes in wherever there's a bill up. That doesn't bind one to anything but that shop is altogether too dear besides it would perhaps be foolish of me to set up in business. However, after dinner she again referred to the draper shop. She drew a plan of the place on the margin of a newspaper and little by little she talked it over measuring the corners and arranging the rooms as though she were going to move all her furniture in there on the morrow. Then Coupeau advised her to take it seeing how she wanted to do so she would certainly never find anything decent under five hundred francs besides they might perhaps get a reduction. He knew only one objection to it and that was living in the same house as the Laurelure whom she could not bear. Gervais declared that she wasn't mad at anybody so much did she want her own shop that she even spoke up for the Laurelure saying that they weren't mean at heart and that she would be able to get along just fine when they went to bed Coupeau fell asleep immediately but she stayed awake planning how she could arrange the new place even though she hadn't yet made up her mind completely. On the morrow when she was alone she could not resist removing the glass cover from the clock and taking a peep at the savings bank book to think that her shop was there in those dirty pages covered with ugly writing before going off to her work she consulted Madame Gougier who highly approved her project of setting up in business for herself with a husband like hers a good fellow who did not drink she was certain of getting on and of not having her earnings squandered. At the luncheonnage Gervais even called on the Laurelure to ask their advice she did not wish to appear to be doing anything unknown to the family. Madame Laurelure was struck all over heap what clump clump was going in for a shop now and her heart bursting with envy she stammered and tried to pretend to be pleased no doubt the shop was a convenient one Gervais was right in taking it however when she had somewhat recovered she and her husband talked of the damness of the courtyard of the poor light of the rooms on the ground floor oh it was a good place for rheumatism yet if she made up her mind to take it their observations of course would not make her alter her decision. That evening Gervais frankly owned with a laugh that she would have fallen ill if she had been prevented from having the shop nevertheless before saying it's done she wished to take Coupeau to see the place and try and obtain a reduction in the rent very well then tomorrow if you like said her husband you can come and fetch me towards six o'clock at the house where I'm working in the Rue de la Nation and we'll call in at the Rue de la Couture on our way home. Coupeau was then finishing the roofing of a three storied house it so happened that on that day he was to fix the last sheets of zinc as the roof was almost flat he had set up his bench on it a wide shutter supported on two trestles a beautiful May sun was setting giving a golden hue to the chimney pots and right up at the top against the clear sky the workman was quietly cutting up his zinc with a big pair of shears leaning over the bench and looking like a tailor in his shop cutting out a pair of trousers close to the wall of the next house his boy a youngster of 17 thin and fair was keeping the fire of the chafing dish blazing by the aid of an enormous pair of bellows each puffer which raised a cloud of sparks a zedo put in the irons cried Coupeau the boy struck the soldering irons into the midst of the charcoal which looked a pale rose color in the daylight then he resumed blowing Coupeau held the last sheet of zinc it had to be placed at the edge of the roof close to the gutter pipe there was an abrupt slant there and the gaping void of the street open beneath the zinc worker just as though in his own home wearing his list shoes advanced dragging his feet and whistling the air oh the little lambs arrived in front of the opening he let himself down and then supporting himself and me against the masonry of a chimney stack remained half way out over the pavement below one of his legs dangled when he lent back to call that young vipers the door he held on to a corner of the masonry on account of the street beneath him you confounded dawdleg and midi irons there's no use looking up in the air you skinny beggar the larks won't tumble into your mouth already cooked buds the door did not hurry himself he landed in the neighboring roofs and in a cloud of smoke which rose from the other side of paris close to granel it was very likely a fire however he came and laid down on his stomach his head over the opening and he passed the irons to coupole then the latter commenced to solder the sheet he squatted, he stretched always managing to balance himself sometimes seated on one side at other time standing on the tip of one foot often only holding on by a finger he had a confounded assurance the devil's own cheek familiar with danger and braving it it knew him it was the street that was afraid not he as he kept his pipe in his mouth he turned around every now and then to spit onto the pavement look there's madame bosh he suddenly exclaimed and called down to her hi madame bosh he had just caught sight of the concierge crossing the road she raised her head and recognized him and a conversation ensued between them she hid her hands under her apron her nose elevated in the air he's standing up now his left arm passed around a chimney-pot lent over have you seen my wife? asked he now I haven't replied the concierge is she around here? she's coming to fetch me and all they all well at home well yes, thanks on the most still as you see I'm going to the herge shows a clean young cord to buy a small leg of mutton the butcher need a moulin rouge only charges sixteen so they raised their voices because a vehicle was passing in the wide desertirou de la nation their words shouted out with all their might had only caused a little old woman to come to her window and this little old woman remained there leaning out giving herself the treat of a grand emotion by watching that man on the roof over the way as though she expected him to fall from one minute to another well good evening cried Madame Bosch arm won't disturb you end of third part of chapter four recording by David Lazarus section seventeen 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 fourth part of chapter four Coupot turned round and took back the iron that Zidore was holding for him but just as the concierge was moving off she caught sight of Gervais on the other side of the way holding Nanna by the hand she was already raising her head to tell the sink worker when the young woman closed her mouth energetic gesture and in a low voice so as not to be heard up there she told her of her fear she was afraid by showing herself suddenly of giving her husband a shock which might make him lose his balance during the four years she had only been once to fetch him at his work that day was the second time she could not witness it her blood turned cold when she beheld her old man between heaven and earth in places where even the sparrows would not venture no doubt he's not pleasant moment madame Bosch my husband's a tailor so I have none of those terrors if you only knew in the early days said Gervais again I had frights from morning till night I was always seeing him on a stretcher with his head smashed now I don't think of it so much one gets used to everything bread must be earned all the same it's a precious dear loaf for one risks one's bones more than a sphere and she left off speaking hiding Nanna in her skirt fearing a cry from the little one very pale she looked up in spite of herself at that moment Coupo was soldering the extreme edge of the sheet close to the gutter he slid down as far as possible but without being able to reach the edge then he risked himself with those slow movements peculiar to workmen for an instant he was immediately over the pavement no longer holding on all absorbed in his work and from below one could see the little white flame of the solder frizzling up beneath the carefully welded iron Gervais speechless her throat contracted with anguish had clasped her hands together and held them up in a mechanical gesture of prayer but she breathed freely as Coupo got up and returned back along the roof without hurrying himself and taking the time to spit once more onto the street ah so you've been playing the spy on me cried he gaily on beholding her she's been making her stupid of herself a madam Bosch she wouldn't call to me wait a bit I shall have finished in ten minutes all that remained to do was to fix the top of the chimney a mere nothing the laundress and the concierge waited on the pavement discussing the neighborhood and giving an eye to Nana to prevent her from dabbling in the gutter where she wanted to look for little fishes and the two women kept glancing up at the roof smiling and nodding their heads as though to imply that they were not losing patience the old woman opposite had not left her window and had continued watching the man and waiting whatever can she have to look at that old she goat said madam Bosch what a mug she has one could hear the loud voice of the zinc worker up above singing ah it's nice to gather strawberries bending over his bench he was now artistically cutting out his zinc with his compasses he traced a line and he detached a large fan shaped piece with the aid of a pair of curved shears then he lightly bent this fan with his hammer into the form of a pointed mushroom Zidore was again blowing the charcoal in the chafing dish the sun was setting by him a house in a brilliant rosy light which was gradually becoming paler and turning to a delicate lilac and at this quiet hour of the day right up against the sky the silhouettes of the two workmen were ordinarily large with the dark lines of the bench and the strange profile of the bellows stood out from the limpid background of the atmosphere when the chimney top was got into shape Kupo called out Zidore the irons but Zidore had disappeared the zinc worker swore and looked about for him even calling him through the open skylight of the loft at length he discovered him on a neighboring roof two houses off and a long rogue was taking a walk exploring the environs his fair scanty locks blowing in the breeze his eyes blinking as they beheld the immensity of Paris why say lazy bones do you think you're having a day in the country ask Kupo in a rage you're like Monsieur Barger composing verses perhaps will you give me those irons did anyone ever see such a thing strolling about on the housetops why not bring your sweetheart once and tell her of your love will you give me those irons you confounded little Sherker he finished his soldering and called to Gervais there it's done I'm coming down the chimney pot to which he had to fix the flues in the middle of the roof Gervais who was no longer uneasy continued to smile as she followed his movements Nana amused all on a sudden by the view of her father clapped her little hands she had seated herself on the pavement to see the batter up there papa papa called she and with all her might papa just look the zinc worker wished to lean forward but his foot slipped then suddenly stupidly like a cat with its legs entangled he rolled and descended the slight slope of the roof without being able to grab hold of anything oh mon dieu he cried in a choked voice and he fell his body described a gentle curve turned twice over on itself the street with a dull thud of a bundle of clothes thrown from on high Gervais stupefied her throat rent by one great cry stood holding up her arms some passes by hastened to the spot a crowd soon formed madam Bosch utterly upset her knees bending under her took Nana in her arms to hide her head and prevent her seeing meanwhile the little old woman opposite quietly closed her window as though satisfied four men ended by carrying Kupo into a chemist's at the corner of Rue des Poissonnières and he remained there on a blanket in the middle of the shop whilst they sent to the Larigboisierre hospital for a stretcher he was still breathing Gervais sobbing was kneeling on the floor besides him her face smudged with tears stunned and unseeing her hands would reach to feel her husband's limbs with the utmost gentleness then she would draw back as she had been warned not to touch him but a few seconds later she would touch him to assure herself that he was still warm feeling somehow that she was helping him when the stretcher at length arrived and they talked of starting for the hospital she got up saying violently no, no, not the hospital we live in the Rue Nerve de la Goudour it was useless for them to explain to her that the illness would cost her a great deal of money if she took her husband home she obstinately repeated I will show you the house what can it matter to you I've got money, he's my husband isn't he? he's mine and I want him at home and they had to take Coupot to his own home when the stretcher was carried through the crowd which was crushing up against the chemist shop the women of the neighbourhood were excitedly talking of Gervais she limped the doll but all the same she had some pluck she would be sure to save her old man whilst at the hospital the doctors let the patients die who were very bad so as not to have the bother of trying to cure them Madame Bosch after taking Nana home with her returned and gave her account of the accident with interminable details and still feeling agitated with the emotion she had passed through I was going to buy a leg of mutton I was there, I saw him fall repeated she it was all through the little one he turned to look at her and bang oh, good heavens I can't decide again, however I must be off to get my leg of mutton for a week Coupot was very bad the family, the neighbours everyone expected to see him turn for the worse at any moment the doctor a very expensive doctor who charged five francs for each visit apprehended internal injuries and these words filled everyone with fear it was said in the neighbourhood that the zinc worker's heart had been injured by the shock alone looking pale through her nights of watching serious and resolute shrugged her shoulders her old man's right leg was broken everyone knew that it would be set for him and that was all as for the rest, the injured heart there was nothing she knew how to restore a heart with ceaseless care she was certain of getting him well and displayed magnificent faith she stayed close by him and caressed him gently during the long bouts of fever without a moment of doubt she was on her feet continuously for a whole week completely absorbed by her determination to save him she forgot the street outside the entire city and even her own children on the ninth day the doctor finally said that Coupot would live Gervais collapsed into her chair her body limp from fatigue that night she consented to sleep for two hours with her head against the foot of the bed Coupot's accident had created quite a commotion in the family mother Coupot passed the nights with Gervais but as early as nine o'clock she fell asleep on a chair every evening on returning from work madame LaRau went a long round out of her way to inquire how her brother was getting on at first the Laurelure had called two or three times a day offering to sit up and watch and even bringing an easy chair for Gervais then it was not long before they were disputes as to what was the proper way to nurse Invalides madame Laurelure said that she had saved enough people's lives to know how to go about it she accused the young wife of pushing her aside of driving her away from her own brother's bed certainly that clump-clump ought to be concerned about Coupot's getting well but if she hadn't gone to Rue de Lanathior to disturb him at his job he would never have fallen only the way she was taking care of him she would certainly finish him when Gervais saw that Coupot was out of danger she ceased guarding his bedside with so much jealous fierceness now they could no longer kill him and she let people approach without mistrust the family invaded the room the convalescence would be a very long one the doctor had talked of four months then during the long hours the zinc worker slept the Laurelure talked of Gervais as a fool she hadn't done any good by having her husband at home at the hospital they would have cured him twice as quickly Laurelure would have liked to have been ill to have called no matter what just to show her that she did not hesitate for a moment to go to Laureboisierre Madame Laurelure knew a lady who had just come from there well, she had chicken to eat morning and night again and again the two of them went over their estimate of how much four months of convalescence would cost workdays lost, the doctor and medicines and afterwards good wine and fresh meat if the cupo only used up their small savings they would be very lucky indeed they would probably have to go into debt well, that was to be expected and it was their business they had no right to expect any help from the family which couldn't afford the luxury of keeping an invalid at home it was just clump clump's bad luck, wasn't it why couldn't she have done as others did and let a man be taken to hospital this just showed how stuck up she was one evening Madame Laurelure had the spitefulness to ask Jovay suddenly well, and your shop when are you going to take it yes, chuckled Laurelure the landlord's still waiting for you Jovay's was astonished she had completely forgotten the shop but she saw the wicked joy of those people at the thought that she would no longer be able to take it and she was bursting with anger from that evening in fact they watched for every opportunity to twitter about her hopeless dream when anyone spoke of some impossible wish they would say that it might be realized on the day that Jovay started in business in a beautiful shop opened onto the street and behind her back they would laugh fit to split their sides she did not like to think such an unkind thing but really the Laurelure now seemed to be very pleased at Kupo's accident as it prevented her setting up as a laundress in the rude la goutte d'or then she also wished to laugh and show them how willingly she parted with the money for the sake of curing her husband each time she took the savings bank book from beneath the glass clock tower in their presence she would say gaily I'm going out, I'm going to rent my shop she had not been willing to withdraw the money all at once she took out a hundred francs at a time so as not to keep such a pile of gold and silver in her draw then too she vaguely hoped for some miracle some sudden recovery which would enable them not to part with the entire sum at each journey to the savings bank and on her return she added up on the piece of paper the money they had still left there it was merely for the sake of order their bank account might be getting smaller all the time yet she went on with her quiet smile and common sense attitude keeping the account straight it was a consolation to be able to use this money for such a good purpose to have it when faced with their misfortune end of fourth part of chapter four recording by David Lazarus section eighteen 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 David Lazarus La Samoire by Emile Zola translated by Ernest A. Visitelli fifth part of chapter four while Coupeau was bedridden the Gougier were very kind to Gervais Madame Gougier was always ready to assist she never went to shop without stopping Gervais if there was anything she needed sugar or butter or salt she always brought over hot bouillon on the evenings she cooked pot au feu sometimes when Gervais seemed to have too much to do Madame Gougier helped to do the dishes or clean the kitchen herself Gougier took her waterpails every morning and filled them at the tap en route de Poissonnier saving her too soon a day after dinner if no family came to visit the Gougier would come over to visit with the Coupeau until ten o'clock the blacksmith would smoke his pipe and wash your vase busy with her invalid he would not speak ten words the entire evening he was moved to pity by the sight of her pouring Coupeau's tea and medicine into a cup or stirring the sugar in it very carefully so as to make no sound with the spoon it stirred him deeply when she would lean over Coupeau and speak in her soft voice never before had he known such a fine woman her limp increased the credit you her for wearing herself out doing things for her husband all day long she never sat down for ten minutes not even to eat she was always running to the chemists and then she would still keep the house clean not even a speck of dust she never complained no matter how exhausted she became Gougier developed a deep affection for Gervais in this atmosphere of unselfish devotion one day he said to the invalid well old man now you're patched up again I wasn't worried about you your wife works miracles Gougier was supposed to be getting married his mother had found a suitable girl a lace-mender like herself whom she was urging him to marry he had agreed so as not to hurt her feelings and the wedding day had been set for early September money had long since been saved to set them up in housekeeping however when Gervais referred to his coming marriage he shook his head saying not every woman is like you, Madame Coupeau if all women were like you I'd marry ten of them at the end of two months Coupeau was able to get up he did not go far only from the bed to the window and even then Gervais had to support him there he would sit down in the easy chair the lorry lure had brought with his right leg stretched out on a stool this joker who you still are slipped down on frosty days felt greatly put out by his accident he had no philosophy he had spent those two months in bed and cursing and him worrying the people about him it was not an existence really to pass one's life on one's back with a pin all tied up and as stiff as a sausage he certainly knew that ceiling by heart there was a crack at the corner of the alcove that he could have drawn with his eyes shut then when he was made comfortable in the easy chair it was another grievance would he be fixed there for long just like a mummy nobody ever passed along the street so it was no fun to watch besides its stank of bleach water all day no he was just growing old he'd have given ten years of his life just to go see how the fortifications were getting along he kept going on about his fate it wasn't right what had happened to him a good worker like him not a loafer or a drunkard he could have understood in that case Papacupo said he broke his neck one day that he'd been boozing I can't say that it was deserved but anyhow it was explainable I had had nothing since my luncheon was perfectly quiet and without a drop of liquor in my body and yet I came to grief just because I wanted to turn round to smile at Nana don't you think that's too much if there is providence it certainly arranges things in a very peculiar manner I for one shall never believe in it and when at last he was able to use his legs he retained a secret grudge against work it was a handicraft full of misfortunes to pass one's day like the cats on the roofs of the houses the employers were no fools they sent you to your death being far too cowardly to venture themselves on a ladder and stopped at home in safety at their firesides without caring a hang for a classes and he got to the point of saying that everyone ought to fix the zinc himself on his own house it was the only fair way to do it if you don't want the rain to come do the work yourself he regretted he hadn't learned another trade something more pleasant something less dangerous maybe cabinet making it was really his father's fault lots of fathers had the foolish habit of shoving their sons into their own for another two months guppo hobbled about on crutches he had first of all managed to get as far as the street and smoke his pipe in front of the door then he had managed to reach the exterior boulevard dragging himself along in the sunshine and remaining for hours on one of the seats gaiety returned to him his infernal tongue got sharper in these long hours of idleness and with the pleasure of living he gained there a delight in doing nothing feeling took possession of his limbs and his muscles gradually glided into a very sweet slumber it was the slow victory of laziness which took advantage of his convalescence to obtain possession of his body and unnerve him with its tickling he regained his health as thorough or banter as before thinking life beautiful and not seeing why it should not last forever as soon as he could get about without the crutches he made longer walks often visiting construction jobs to see old comrades he would stand with his arms folded sneering and shaking his head ridiculing the workers slaving at their job stretching out his leg to show them what you got for wearing yourself out being able to stand about and mock others while they were working satisfied his spite against hard work he no doubt would have to go back to it but he'd put it off as long as possible he had reason now to be lazy besides it seemed good to him to loaf around like a bum on the afternoons when Kupo fell dull he would call on the laurelure the latter would pity him immensely and attract him with all sorts of amiable attentions during the first years following his marriage he had avoided them thanks to Gervais's influence now they regained their sway over him by tweeting him about being afraid of his wife he was no man that was evident the laurelure, however, showed great discretion and were loud in their praise of the laundress's good qualities Gupo, without his yet coming to wrangling swore to the latter that his sister adored her and requested that she would behave more amably to her the first quarrel which the couple had occurred one evening on account of Etienne the zinc worker had passed the afternoon with the laurelure on arriving home as the dinner was not quite ready and the children were whining for their soup he suddenly turned upon Etienne and boxed his ears soundly and during an hour he did not cease to grumble the brat was not his he did not know why he allowed him to be in the place he would end up by turning him out into the street up till then he had tolerated the youngster without all that fuss on the morrow he talked of his dignity three days after he kept kicking the little fellow mourning and evening so much so that the child whenever he heard him coming bolted into the gouges where the old lace-mender kept a corner of the table clear for him to do his lessons Gervais had for some time passed returned to work she no longer had the trouble of looking under the glass cover of the clock all the savings were gone and she had to work hard work for four for there were four to feed now she alone maintained them the little pitying her she at once found excuses for Coupot recollect he had suffered so much it was not surprising if his disposition had soured but it would pass off when his health returned and if anyone hinted that Coupot seemed all right again that he could very well return to work she protested no no no not yet she did not want to see him take to his bed again they would allow her to know best what the doctor said it was she who prevented him returning to work telling him every morning to take his time and not to force himself she even slipped twenty suit pieces into his waistcoat pocket Coupot accepted this as something perfectly natural he was always complaining of aches and pains so that she would coddle him at the end of six months he was still convalescing now whenever he went to watch others working he was always ready to join his comrades in downing a shot it wasn't so bad after all they had their fun and they never stayed more than five minutes that couldn't hurt anybody only a hypocrite would say he went in because he wanted a drink no wonder they had laughed at him in the past a glass of wine never hurt anybody he only drank wine though never brandy wine never made you sick didn't get you drunk and helps you to live longer soon though several times after a day of idleness in going from one building job to another he came home half drunk on those occasions Gervais pretended to have a terrible headache and kept their door closed so that the Gougier couldn't hear Coupot's drunken babblings little by little the young woman lost her cheerfulness morning and evening she went to the Rue de la Goutte d'Or to look at the shop which was still to be let and she would hide herself as though she were committing some childish prank unworthy of a grown-up person this shop was beginning to turn her brain at night time when the light was out she experienced the charm of some forbidden pleasure by thinking of it with her eyes open she again made her calculations 250 francs for the rent 150 francs for utensils and moving 100 francs in hand to keep them going for a fortnight in all 500 francs at the very lowest figure if she was not continually thinking of it allowed it was for fear she should be suspected of regretting the savings swallowed up by Coupot's illness she often became quite pale having almost allowed her desire to escape her and catching back her words quite confused as though she had been thinking of something wicked now they would have to work for four or five years before they would succeed in saving such a sum her regret was not being able to start in business at once she would have earned all the home required without counting on Coupot letting him take months to get into the way of work again she would no longer have been uneasy but certain of the future and free from secret fears which sometimes seized her when he returned home very gay and singing and relating some joke of that animal my boots whom he treated to a drink one evening Gervais came home alone Gougier entered and did not hurry off again according to his habit he seated himself and smoked as he watched her he probably had something very serious to say he thought it over let it ripen without being able to put it into suitable words at length after a long silence he appeared to make up his mind and took his pipe out of his mouth to say all in a breath Madam Gervais will you allow me to lend you some money she was leaning over an open drawer looking for some dishcloths she got up her face very red he must have seen her then in the morning standing in ecstasy before the shop for close upon ten minutes he was smiling in an embarrassed way as though he had made some insulting proposal but she hastily refused never would she accept money from anyone without knowing when she would be able to return it then also it was a question of too large an amount and as he insisted in a frightened manner she ended by exclaiming but your marriage I certainly can't take the money you've been saving for your marriage oh don't let that bother you he replied turning red in his turn I'm not going to be married now that was just an idea you know really I would much sooner lend you the money then they both held down their heads there was something very pleasant between them to which they did not give expression and Gervais accepted Gougé had told his mother they crossed the landing and went to see her at once the lace meant it was very grave and looked rather sad as she bent her face over her tambour frame she would not thwart her son but she no longer approved Gervais's project and she plainly told her why Coupeau was going to the bad Coupeau would swallow up her shop she especially could not forgive the zinc worker for having refused to learn to read during his convalescence that blacksmith had offered to teach him but the other had sent him to the right about saying that learning made people get thin this had almost caused a quarrel between the two workmen each went his own way Madame Gougé however seeing her big boy's beseeching glances behaved very kindly to Gervais it was settled that they would lend their neighbors five hundred francs the latter were to repay the amount by instalments of twenty francs a month it would last as long as it lasted I'd say the blacksmith sweet on you exclaimed Coupeau laughing when he heard what had taken place oh, I'm quite easy, he's too big a muff we'll pay him back his money but really if he had to deal with some people he'd find himself pretty well duped on the morrow the Coupeau's took the shop all day long Gervais was running from Runeau de la Goutte d'Or when the neighbors beheld her past thus nimble and delighted to the extent that she no longer limped they said she must have undergone some operation End of Chapter 4 Recording by David Lazarus Section 19 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 A. Visitelli Chapter 5 it so happened that the Boschists had left the Rue des Poissonniers at the April quarter and were now taking charge of the Great House in the Rue de la Goutte d'Or it was a curious coincidence all the same one thing that worried Chávez who had lived so quietly in her lodgings in the Rue Nerve was the thought of again being under the subjection of some unpleasant person with whom she would be continually quarrelling either on account of water spilt in the passage or a door shut too noisily at night time Cossiers are such a disagreeable class but it would be a pleasure to be with the Boschists they knew one another they would always get on well together it would be just like members of the same family on the day the Coupos went to sign their lease Chávez felt her heart swollen with pride as she passed through the high doorway she was then at length going to live in that house as vast as a little town with its interminable staircases and passages as long and winding as streets she was excited by everything the grey walls with very coloured rugs hanging from the windows to dry in the sun the dingy courtyard with as many holes in its pavement as a public square the hum of activity coming through the walls she felt joy that she was at last about to realise her ambition she also felt fear that she would fail and be crushed in the endless struggle against the poverty and starvation she could feel breathing down her neck it seemed to her that she was doing something very bold throwing herself into the midst of some machinery in motion as she listened to the blacksmith's hammers and the cabinet maker's planes hammering and hissing in the depths of the workshops on the ground floor on that day the water flowing from the dyers under the entrance porch was a very pale apple green she smilingly stepped over it to her the colour was a pleasant omen the meeting with the landlord was to take place in the Bosch's room Monsieur Marescot, a wealthy cutler of the Rue de la Paix had at one time turned a grindstone through the streets he was now stated to be worth several millions he was a man of 55 large and big boned even though he now wore a decoration in his buttonhole his huge hands were still those of a former working man it was his joy to carry off the scissors and knives of his tenants to sharpen them himself for the fun of it he often stayed for hours with his corsie-elches closed up in the darkness of their lodges going over the accounts that's where he did all his business he was now seated by Madame Bosch's kitchen table listening to her story of how the dressmaker on the third floor staircase A had used a filthy word in refusing to pay her rent he had had to work precious hard once upon a time but work was the high road to everything and after counting the 250 francs for the first two quarters in advance and dropping them into his capacious pocket he related the story of his life and showed his decoration Chávez however felt rather ill at ease on account of the Bosch's behaviour they pretended not to know her they were most assiduous in their attentions to the landlord bowing down before him watching for his least words and nodding their approval of them Madame Bosch suddenly ran out and dispersed a group of children who were paddling about in front of the cistern the top of which they had turned full on causing the water to flow over the pavement and when she returned upright and severe in her skirts crossing the courtyard and glancing slowly up at all the windows as though to assure herself of the good behaviour of the household she pursed her lips in a way to show with what authority she was invested now that she reigned over 300 tenants Bosch again spoke of the dressmaker on the second floor he advised that she should be turned out he reckoned up the number of quarters she owed with the importance of a steward whose management might be compromised Monsieur Machesco approved the suggestion of turning her out but he wished to wait until the half quarter it was hard to turn people out into the street more especially as it did not put a sue into the landlord's pocket and Gervais asked herself with a shudder if she too would be turned out into the street the day that some misfortune rendered her unable to pay the Courcière's lodge was as dismal as a cellar black from smoke and crowded with dark furniture all the sunlight fell upon the tailor's workbench by the window an old frock coat that was being reworked lay on it the Bosch's only child, a four-year-old redhead named Pauline was sitting on the floor staring quietly at the veal simmering on the stove delighted with the sharp odour of cooking that came from the frying pan Monsieur Machesco again held out his hand to the zinc worker when the latter spoke of the repairs recalling to his mind a promise he had made to talk the matter over later on but the landlord grew angry he had never promised anything besides it was not usual to do any repairs to a shop however he consented to go over the place followed by the coupons and Bosch the little linen draper had carried off all his shelves and counters the empty shop displayed its blackened ceiling and its cracked wall on which hung strips of an old yellow paper in the sonorous emptiness of the place there ensued a heated discussion Monsieur Machesco exclaimed that it was the business of shopkeepers to embellish their shops for a shopkeeper might wish to have gold put about everywhere and he the landlord could not put out gold then he related that he had spent more than 20,000 francs in fitting up his premises in the Rue de la Paix Chavez with her woman's obstinacy kept repeating an argument which she considered unanswerable he would repaper a lodging would he not then why did he not treat the shop the same as a lodging she did not ask him for anything else only to whitewash the ceiling and put some fresh paper on the walls Bosch all this while remained dignified and impenetrable he turned about and looked up in the air without expressing an opinion Coupeau winked at him in vain he effected not to wish to take advantage of his great influence over the landlord he ended however by making a slight grimace a little smile accompanied by a nod of the head just then Monsieur Machesco exasperated and seemingly very unhappy and clutching his fingers like a miser being dispoiled of his gold was giving way to Chavez promising to do the ceiling and repaper the shop on condition that she paid for half of the paper and he hurried away declining to discuss anything further now that Bosch was alone with the Coupeaus the concierge became quite talkative and slapped them on the shoulders well well see what they had gotten without his help they would never have gotten the concessions didn't they notice how the landlord had looked to him out the corner of his eye for advice and how he'd made up his mind suddenly when he saw Bosch smile he confessed to them confidentially that he was the real boss of the building it was he who decided who got eviction notices and who could become tenants he collected all the rents and kept them for a couple of weeks in his bureau drawer that evening the Coupeaus to express their gratitude to the bosses sent them two bottles of wine as a present the following Monday the workmen started doing up the shop the purchasing of the paper turned out especially to be a very big affair Chavez wanted a grey paper with blue flowers so as to enliven and brighten the walls Bosch offered to take her to the dealers so that she might make her own selection but the landlord had given him formal instructions not to go beyond the price of 15 sous the piece they were there an hour the laundress kept looking in despair at a very pretty chintz pattern costing 18 sous the piece and thought all the other papers hideous at length the concierge gave in he would arrange the matter and if necessary would make out there was a piece more used than was really the case so on her way home Chavez purchased some tarts for Pauline she did not like being behindhand one always gained by behaving nicely to her the shop was to be ready in four days the workmen were there three weeks at first it was arranged that they should merely wash the paint but this paint originally maroon was so dirty and so sad looking that Chavez allowed herself to be tempted to have the whole of the frontage painted a light blue with yellow mouldings then the repairs seemed as though they would last forever Coupel as he was still not working arrived early each morning to see how things were going Bosch left the overcoat or trousers on which he was working to come and supervise both of them would stand and watch with their hands behind their backs puffing on their pipes the painters were very merry fellows who would often desert their work to stand in the middle of the shop and join the discussion shaking their heads for hours admiring the work already done the ceiling had been whitewashed quickly but the paint on the walls never seemed to dry in a hurry around nine o'clock the painters would arrive with their paint pots which they stuck in a corner they would look around and then disappear perhaps they went to eat breakfast sometimes Coupel would take everyone for a drink Bosch, the two painters and any of Coupel's friends who were nearby this meant another afternoon wasted Chavez's patience was thoroughly exhausted when suddenly everything was finished in two days the paint varnished, the paper hung and the dirt all cleared away the workmen had finished it off as though they were playing away on their ladders and singing loud enough to deafen the whole neighbourhood the moving in took place at once during the first few days Chavez felt as delighted as a child whenever she crossed the road on returning from some errand she lingered to smile at her home from a distance her shop appeared light and gay with its pale blue signboard on which the word laundress was painted in big yellow letters amidst the dark row of the other frontages in the window closed in behind by little muslin curtains and hung on either side with blue paper to show off the whiteness of the linen some shirts were displayed with some women's caps hanging above them on wires she thought her shop looked pretty being the same colour as the heavens inside there was more blue the paper in imitation of a pompadour chintz represented a trellis overgrown with morning glories a huge table taking up two-thirds of the room was her ironing table it was covered with thick blanketing and draped with a strip of criton patterned with blue flower sprays that hid the trestles beneath Chavez was enchanted with her pretty establishment and would often seat herself on a stool and sigh with contentment delighted with all the new equipment her first glance always went to the cast-iron stove where the irons were heated ten at a time arranged over the heat on slanting rest she would kneel down to look into the stove to make sure the apprentice had not put in too much coke the lodging at the back of the shop was quite decent the cupos slept in the first room where they also did the cooking and took their meals a door at the back opened onto the courtyard of the house Nana's bed was in the right-hand room which was lighted by a little round window close to the ceiling as for Etienne, he shared the left-hand room with the dirty clothes enormous bundles of which lay about on the floor however there was one disadvantage the cupos would not admit it at first but the damp ran down the walls and it was impossible to see clearly in the place after three o'clock in the afternoon in the neighbourhood the new shop produced a great sensation the cupos were accused of going too fast and making too much fuss they had in fact spent the 500 francs lent by the gougé in fitting up the shop and in moving without keeping sufficient to live upon for a fortnight as they had intended doing the morning that Chávez took down her shutters for the first time she had just six francs in her purse but that did not worry her customers began to arrive and things seemed promising a week later on the Saturday before going to bed she remained two hours making calculations on a piece of paper and she awoke Coupo to tell him with a bright look on her face that there were hundreds and thousands of francs to be made if only they were careful ah well said Madame Lorayeur all over the rue de la goutte d'or my fool of a brother is seeing some funny things all that was wanting was that clump clump should go about so haughty becomes a well doesn't it the Lorayeurs had declared a feud to the death against Chávez to begin with they had almost died of rage during the time while the repairs were being done to the shop if they caught sight of the painters from a distance they would walk on the other side of the way and go up to their rooms with their teeth set a blue shop for that nobody it was enough to discourage all honest hard working people besides the second day after the shop opened the apprentice happened to throw out a bowl of starch just at the moment when Madame Lorayeur was passing the zinc worker's sister caused a great commotion in the street accusing her sister-in-law of insulting her through her employees this broke off all relations now they only exchanged terrible glares when they encountered each other yeah she leads a pretty life Madame Lorayeur kept saying we all know where the money came from that she paid for her wretched shop she borrowed it from the blacksmith and he springs from a nice family too didn't the father cut his own throat to save the guillotine the trouble of doing so anyhow there was something disreputable of that sort end of the first part of chapter 5 recording by Martin Geithen in Hazelmere Surrey


July 1945. The heavy cruiser USS Indianapolis had delivered the atomic bomb components to the Pacific Island air base on Tinian. Shortly after midnight on July 30th, tragedy struck. Two torpedoes from a Japanese submarine hit the Indie, sending her beneath the waves in 12 minutes. Now, 70 years later, the survivors reunite to remember the shipmates they lost. Code red, standby. Fire! And every two seconds he fires a torpedo, he fires six torpedoes. I looked up and there in the forward two doors into the wardroom where these great swirling caterpillars of flame that came in. And I jumped up, I was in my skivvy, and I just jumped up and put my pants and shirt on and was carrying my shoes. And then the second torpedo hit. Watch the full story of survival on ah.mil.