The Drinking Den (Penguin Classics) by Robin Buss

Author:Robin Buss
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780140449549
Publisher: Penguin Classics
Published: 2004-08-03T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

At around ten o’clock the following Saturday, Coupeau, who had not come home for dinner, brought Lantier with him. They had eaten sheep’s feet together at Thomas’s restaurant in Montmartre.

‘Don’t be cross, old girl,’ Coupeau said. ‘We’ve been behaving, see… Oh, there’s no risk of going astray with him; he keeps you on the straight and narrow.’

He described how they had bumped into one another in the Rue Rochechouart. After eating, Lantier had refused a drink at the Boule Noire café, saying that when you were married with a decent, good-natured wife, you shouldn’t spend your time hanging around every pub and bar. Gervaise listened with a little smile. No, of course she wasn’t going to get cross; she felt too awkward. Since the party, she had been expecting to see her former lover again at any time; but the arrival of the two men just now, when she was about to go to bed, had taken her by surprise, and her hands trembled as she tied up her hair, which she had let fall loose.

‘You know,’ Coupeau said, ‘since he was gracious enough to refuse a drink outside, you can give us one here. Well, that’s the least you can do!’

The girls had left long ago. Mother Coupeau and Nana had just gone to bed. Gervaise, who had already picked up one of the shutters when they arrived, left the shop open and put some glasses and the remains of a bottle of cognac down on the work-table. Lantier remained standing, deliberately not talking to her directly. However, when she served him, he exclaimed:

‘Just a drop for me, Madame, if you don’t mind.’

Coupeau looked at them and spoke out frankly. Surely they weren’t going to act ridiculously about this! What was done was done, no? If people were to carry on feeling bitter after nine or ten years, then eventually they wouldn’t be speaking to anybody at all. No, no! He was quite sincere! To start with, he knew them both: they were both decent people, two friends, no? He knew neither of them would let him down, so he had nothing to worry about.

‘Oh, yes, of course… Of course…’ Gervaise repeated, eyes downcast, not understanding what she was saying.

‘She’s a sister to me now, nothing more than that,’ Lantier murmured in his turn.

‘Shake hands, then, for heaven’s sake,’ Coupeau cried. ‘And to hell with the bourgeoisie! When you have something like that under your hat, you’re better off than a millionaire. For me, friendship comes first – because friendship is friendship, and there’s nothing above that.’

He kept banging his fist against his stomach, with such emotion that they had to restrain him. Then all four of them clinked glasses and drank in silence. Now Gervaise had a chance to look properly at Lantier; because on the day of the party she had seen him only through a mist. He had put on weight, becoming plump and round, his legs and arms seeming heavier because he was short.

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