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 is fair.”
And she left off speaking, hiding Nana in her skirt, fearing a cry from the little one.
Very pale, she looked up in spite of herself.
At that moment Coupeau 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 long 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 wielded iron.
Gervaise, speechless, her throat contracted with anguish, had clasped her hands together, and held them up in mechanical gesture of prayer.
But she breathed freely as Coupeau got up and returned back along the roof, without hurrying himself, and taking the time to spit once more into the street.
“Ah! ah! so you’ve been playing the spy on me!” cried he, gaily, on beholding her.
“She’s been making a stupid of herself, eh, Madame Boche?
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, had continued watching the man, and waiting.
“Whatever can she have to look at, that old she-goat?” said Madame Boche.
“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 behind the 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, looking inordinately large, with the dark line of the bench, and the strange profile of the bellows, stood out from the limpid back-ground of the atmosphere.
When the chimney-top was got into shape, Coupeau 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.
The young 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.
“I say, lazy bones!
Do you think you’re having a day in the country?” asked Coupeau, in a rage.
“You’re like Monsieur Beranger, composing verses, perhaps!
Will you give me those irons!
Did any one ever see such a thing!
Strolling about on the house-tops!
Why not bring your sweetheart at once, and tell her of your love?
Will you give me those irons? You confounded little shirker!”
He finished his soldering, and called to Gervaise:
“There, it’s done. I’m coming down.”
The chimney-pot to which he had to fix the flue was in the middle of the roof.
Gervaise, 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 better up there.
“Papa! Papa!” called she 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.