However, when she served him, he exclaimed:
“Only a thimbleful, madame, if you please.”
Coupeau looked at them and then spoke his mind very plainly.
They were not going to behave like a couple of geese he hoped!
The past was past was it not?
If people nursed grudges for nine and ten years together one would end by no longer seeing anybody.
No, no, he carried his heart in his hand, he did!
First of all, he knew who he had to deal with, a worthy woman and a worthy man — in short two friends!
He felt easy; he knew he could depend upon them.
“Oh! that’s certain, quite certain,” repeated Gervaise, looking on the ground and scarcely understanding what she said.
“She is a sister now — nothing but a sister!” murmured Lantier in his turn.
“Mon Dieu! shake hands,” cried Coupeau, “and let those who don’t like it go to blazes!
When one has proper feelings one is better off than millionaires.
For myself I prefer friendship before everything because friendship is friendship and there’s nothing to beat it.”
He dealt himself heavy blows on the chest, and seemed so moved that they had to calm him.
They all three silently clinked glasses, and drank their drop of brandy.
Gervaise was then able to look at Lantier at her ease; for on the night of her saint’s day, she had only seen him through a fog.
He had grown more stout, his arms and legs seeming too heavy because of his small stature.
His face was still handsome even though it was a little puffy now due to his life of idleness.
He still took great pains with his narrow moustache. He looked about his actual age.
He was wearing grey trousers, a heavy blue overcoat, and a round hat. He even had a watch with a silver chain on which a ring was hanging as a keepsake. He looked quite like a gentleman.
“I’m off,” said he. “I live no end of a distance from here.”
He was already on the pavement when the zinc-worker called him back to make him promise never to pass the door without looking in to wish them good day.
Meanwhile Gervaise, who had quietly disappeared, returned pushing Etienne before her.
The child, who was in his shirt-sleeves and half asleep, smiled as he rubbed his eyes. But when he beheld Lantier he stood trembling and embarrassed, and casting anxious glances in the direction of his mother and Coupeau.
“Don’t you remember this gentleman?” asked the latter.
The child held down his head without replying.
Then he made a slight sign which meant that he did remember the gentleman.
“Well! Then, don’t stand there like a fool; go and kiss him.”
Lantier gravely and quietly waited.
When Etienne had made up his mind to approach him, he stooped down, presented both his cheeks, and then kissed the youngster on the forehead himself.
At this the boy ventured to look at his father; but all on a sudden he burst out sobbing and scampered away like a mad creature with his clothes half falling off him, whilst Coupeau angrily called him a young savage.
“The emotion’s too much for him,” said Gervaise, pale and agitated herself.
“Oh! he’s generally very gentle and nice,” exclaimed Coupeau.
“I’ve brought him up properly, as you’ll see. He’ll get used to you.
He must learn to know people. We can’t stay mad.
We should have made up a long time ago for his sake.
I’d rather have my head cut off than keep a father from seeing his own son.”
Having thus delivered himself, he talked of finishing the bottle of brandy.
All three clinked glasses again.
Lantier showed no surprise, but remained perfectly calm.
By way of repaying the zinc-worker’s politeness he persisted in helping him put up the shutters before taking his departure.
Then rubbing his hands together to get rid of the dust on them, he wished the couple good-night.
“Sleep well.
I shall try and catch the last bus. I promise you I’ll look in again soon.”
After that evening Lantier frequently called at the Rue de la Goutte-d’Or.
He came when the zinc-worker was there, inquiring after his health the moment he passed the door and affecting to have solely called on his account.
Then clean-shaven, his hair nicely combed and always wearing his overcoat, he would take a seat by the window and converse politely with the manners of an educated man.
It was thus that the Coupeaus learnt little by little the details of his life.
During the last eight years he had for a while managed a hat factory; and when they asked him why he had retired from it he merely alluded to the rascality of a partner, a fellow from his native place, a scoundrel who had squandered all the takings with women.