A gush of rain swept the pavement, along which some women flew, holding down their skirts with both hands.
And it was in the midst of this first shower that Madame Lorilleux at length arrived, furious and out of breath, and struggling on the threshold with her umbrella that would not close.
“Did any one ever see such a thing?” she exclaimed. “It caught me just at the door.
I felt inclined to go upstairs again and take my things off.
I should have been wise had I done so. Ah! it’s a pretty wedding!
I said how it would be. I wanted to put it off till next Saturday; and it rains because they wouldn’t listen to me!
So much the better, so much the better!
I wish the sky would burst!”
Coupeau tried to pacify her without success.
He wouldn’t have to pay for her dress if it was spoilt!
She had on a black silk dress in which she was nearly choking, the bodice, too tight fitting, was almost bursting the button-holes, and was cutting her across the shoulders; while the skirt only allowed her to take very short steps in walking.
However, the ladies present were all staring at her, quite overcome by her costume.
She appeared not to notice Gervaise, who was sitting beside mother Coupeau.
She asked her husband for his handkerchief. Then she went into a corner and very carefully wiped off the raindrops that had fallen on her silk dress.
The shower had abruptly ceased.
The darkness increased, it was almost like night — a livid night rent at times by large flashes of lightning.
Bibi-the-Smoker said laughingly that it would certainly rain priests.
Then the storm burst forth with extreme violence.
For half an hour the rain came down in bucketsful, and the thunder rumbled unceasingly.
The men standing up before the door contemplated the grey veil of the downpour, the swollen gutters, the splashes of water caused by the rain beating into the puddles.
The women, feeling frightened, had sat down again, holding their hands before their eyes. They no longer conversed, they were too upset.
A jest Boche made about the thunder, saying that St. Peter was sneezing up there, failed to raise a smile.
But, when the thunder-claps became less frequent and gradually died away in the distance, the wedding guests began to get impatient, enraged against the storm, cursing and shaking their fists at the clouds.
A fine and interminable rain now poured down from the sky which had become an ashy grey.
“It’s past two o’clock,” cried Madame Lorilleux.
“We can’t stop here for ever.”
Mademoiselle Remanjou, having suggested going into the country all the same, even though they went no farther than the moat of the fortifications, the others scouted the idea: the roads would be in a nice state, one would not even be able to sit down on the grass; besides, it did not seem to be all over yet, there might perhaps be another downpour.
Coupeau, who had been watching a workman, completely soaked, yet quietly walking along in the rain, murmured:
“If that animal My-Boots is waiting for us on the Route de Saint-Denis, he won’t catch a sunstroke.”
That made some of them laugh; but the general ill-humor increased.
It was becoming ludicrous. They must decide on something unless they planned to sit there, staring at each other, until time for dinner.
So for the next quarter of an hour, while the persistent rain continued, they tried to think of what to do.
Bibi-the-Smoker suggested that they play cards.
Boche slyly suggesting a most amusing game, the game of true confessions.
Madame Gaudron thought of going to eat onion tarts on the Chaussee Clignancourt.
Madame Lerat wanted to hear some stories.
Gaudron said he wasn’t a bit put out and thought they were quite well off where they were, out of the downpour. He suggested sitting down to dinner immediately.
There was a discussion after each proposal. Some said that this would put everybody to sleep or that that would make people think they were stupid.
Lorilleux had to get his word in.
He finally suggested a walk along the outer Boulevards to Pere Lachaise cemetery. They could visit the tomb of Heloise and Abelard. Madame Lorilleux exploded, no longer able to control herself.
She was leaving, she was.
Were they trying to make fun of her?
She got all dressed up and came out in the rain. And for what? To be wasting time in a wineshop.
No, she had had enough of this wedding party.
She’d rather be in her own home.
Coupeau and Lorilleux had to get between her and the door to keep her from leaving. She kept telling them,
“Get out of my way!
I am leaving, I tell you!”
Lorilleux finally succeeded in calming her down. Coupeau went over to Gervaise, who had been sitting quietly in a corner with mother Coupeau and Madame Fauconnier.
“You haven’t suggested anything,” he said to her.