What would have become of you if I hadn’t taken you to live with us?”
Mother Coupeau slowly shook her head.
That day she was all against the Lorilleuxs, because of the great feast the Coupeaus were giving.
She loved cooking, the little gossipings round the saucepans, the place turned topsy-turvy by the revels of saints’ days.
Besides she generally got on pretty well with Gervaise.
On other days when they plagued one another as happens in all families, the old woman grumbled saying she was wretchedly unfortunate in thus being at her daughter-in-law’s mercy.
In point of fact she probably had some affection for Madame Lorilleux who after all was her daughter.
“Ah!” continued Gervaise, “you wouldn’t be so fat, would you, if you were living with them?
And no coffee, no snuff, no little luxuries of any sort! Tell me, would they have given you two mattresses to your bed?”
“No, that’s very certain,” replied mother Coupeau.
“When they arrive I shall place myself so as to have a good view of the door to see the faces they’ll make.”
Thinking of the faces they would make gave them pleasure ahead of time.
However, they couldn’t remain standing there admiring the table.
The Coupeaus had lunched very late on just a bite or two, because the stoves were already in use, and because they did not want to dirty any dishes needed for the evening.
By four o’clock the two women were working very hard.
The huge goose was being cooked on a spit.
Squint-eyed Augustine was sitting on a low bench solemnly basting the goose with a long-handled spoon.
Gervaise was busy with the peas with bacon.
Mother Coupeau, kept spinning around, a bit confused, waiting for the right time to begin reheating the pork and the veal.
Towards five o’clock the guests began to arrive.
First of all came the two workwomen, Clemence and Madame Putois, both in their Sunday best, the former in blue, the latter in black; Clemence carried a geranium, Madame Putois a heliotrope, and Gervaise, whose hands were just then smothered with flour, had to kiss each of them on both cheeks with her arms behind her back.
Then following close upon their heels entered Virginie dressed like a lady in a printed muslin costume with a sash and a bonnet though she had only a few steps to come.
She brought a pot of red carnations. She took the laundress in her big arms and squeezed her tight.
At length Boche appeared with a pot of pansies and Madame Boche with a pot of mignonette; then came Madame Lerat with a balm-mint, the pot of which had dirtied her violet merino dress.
All these people kissed each other and gathered together in the back-room in the midst of the three stoves and the roasting apparatus, which gave out a stifling heat.
The noise from the saucepans drowned the voices.
A dress catching in the Dutch oven caused quite an emotion.
The smell of roast goose was so strong that it made their mouths water.
And Gervaise was very pleasant, thanking everyone for their flowers without however letting that interfere with her preparing the thickening for the stewed veal at the bottom of a soup plate.
She had placed the pots in the shop at one end of the table without removing the white paper that was round them.
A sweet scent of flowers mingled with the odor of cooking.
“Do you want any assistance?” asked Virginie.
“Just fancy, you’ve been three days preparing all this feast and it will be gobbled up in no time.”
“Well, you know,” replied Gervaise, “it wouldn’t prepare itself. No, don’t dirty your hands.
You see everything’s ready. There’s only the soup to warm.”
Then they all made themselves comfortable.
The ladies laid their shawls and their caps on the bed and pinned up their skirts so as not to soil them.
Boche sent his wife back to the concierge’s lodge until time to eat and had cornered Clemence in a corner trying to find out if she was ticklish.
She was gasping for breath, as the mere thought of being tickled sent shivers through her.
So as not to bother the cooks, the other ladies had gone into the shop and were standing against the wall facing the table.
They were talking through the door though, and as they could not hear very well, they were continually invading the back-room and crowding around Gervaise, who would forget what she was doing to answer them.
There were a few stories which brought sly laughter.
When Virginie mentioned that she hadn’t eaten for two days in order to have more room for today’s feast, tall Clemence said that she had cleaned herself out that morning with an enema like the English do.
Then Boche suggested a way of digesting the food quickly by squeezing oneself after each course, another English custom.
After all, when you were invited to dinner, wasn’t it polite to eat as much as you could?
Veal and pork and goose are placed out for the cats to eat.
The hostess didn’t need to worry a bit, they were going to clean their plates so thoroughly that she wouldn’t have to wash them.
All of them kept coming to smell the air above the saucepans and the roaster.
The ladies began to act like young girls, scurrying from room to room and pushing each other.
Just as they were all jumping about and shouting by way of amusement, Goujet appeared.