God sees and protects it on earth from His throne,
The child that is lost is the child of God’s love.”
Her voice trembled at certain words, and dwelt on them in liquid notes; she looked out of the corner of her eyes to heaven, whilst her right hand swung before her chest or pressed against her heart with an impressive gesture.
Then Gervaise, tortured by Lantier’s presence, could not restrain her tears; it seemed to her that the song was relating her own suffering, that she was the lost child, abandoned by its mother, and whom God was going to take under his protection.
Clemence was now very drunk and she burst into loud sobbing and placed her head down onto the table in an effort to smother her gasps.
There was a hush vibrant with emotion.
The ladies had pulled out their handkerchiefs, and were drying their eyes, with their heads erect from pride.
The men had bowed their heads and were staring straight before them, blinking back their tears.
Poisson bit off the end of his pipe twice while gulping and gasping.
Boche, with two large tears trickling down his face, wasn’t even bothering to squeeze the coal-dealer’s knee any longer.
All these drunk revelers were as soft-hearted as lambs.
Wasn’t the wine almost coming out of their eyes?
When the refrain began again, they all let themselves go, blubbering into their plates.
But Gervaise and Virginie could not, in spite of themselves, take their eyes off the pavement opposite.
Madame Boche, in her turn, caught sight of Lantier and uttered a faint cry without ceasing to besmear her face with her tears.
Then all three had very anxious faces as they exchanged involuntary signs.
Mon Dieu! if Coupeau were to turn round, if Coupeau caught sight of the other!
What a butchery!
What carnage!
And they went on to such an extent that the zinc-worker asked them:
“Whatever are you looking at?”
He leant forward and recognized Lantier.
“Damnation!
It’s too much,” muttered he.
“Ah! the dirty scoundrel — ah! the dirty scoundrel.
No, it’s too much, it must come to an end.”
And as he rose from his seat muttering most atrocious threats, Gervaise, in a low voice, implored him to keep quiet.
“Listen to me, I implore you. Leave the knife alone. Remain where you are, don’t do anything dreadful.”
Virginie had to take the knife which he had picked up off the table from him.
But she could not prevent him leaving the shop and going up to Lantier.
Those around the table saw nothing of this, so involved were they in weeping over the song as Madame Lerat sang the last verse.
It sounded like a moaning wail of the wind and Madame Putois was so moved that she spilled her wine over the table.
Gervaise remained frozen with fright, one hand tight against her lips to stifle her sobs. She expected at any moment to see one of the two men fall unconscious in the street.
As Coupeau rushed toward Lantier, he was so astonished by the fresh air that he staggered, and Lantier, with his hands in his pockets, merely took a step to the side.
Now the two men were almost shouting at each other, Coupeau calling the other a lousy pig and threatening to make sausage of his guts.
They were shouting loudly and angrily and waving their arms violently.
Gervaise felt faint and as it continued for a while, she closed her eyes.
Suddenly, she didn’t hear any shouting and opened her eyes. The two men were chatting amiably together.
Madame Lerat’s voice rose higher and higher, warbling another verse.
Gervaise exchanged a glance with Madame Boche and Virginie.
Was it going to end amicably then?
Coupeau and Lantier continued to converse on the edge of the pavement.
They were still abusing each other, but in a friendly way.
As people were staring at them, they ended by strolling leisurely side by side past the houses, turning round again every ten yards or so.
A very animated conversation was now taking place.
Suddenly Coupeau appeared to become angry again, whilst the other was refusing something and required to be pressed.
And it was the zinc-worker who pushed Lantier along and who forced him to cross the street and enter the shop.
“I tell you, you’re quite welcome!” shouted he.
“You’ll take a glass of wine. Men are men, you know.
We ought to understand each other.”