LAssommoir

L'Assommoir

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Title: L'Assommoir
Author: Emile Zola
Release Date: August, 2005 [EBook #8600] [Yes, we are more than
one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on July 27,
2003]
Edition: 10
Language: English
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L'ASSOMMOIR ***

Produced by John Bickers and Dagny

L'ASSOMMOIR
BY
EMILE ZOLA

CHAPTER I.
Gervaise had waited up for Lantier until two in the morning. Then,
shivering from having remained in a thin loose jacket, exposed to the
fresh air at the window, she had thrown herself across the bed, drowsy,
feverish, and her cheeks bathed in tears.
For a week past, on leaving the "Two-Headed Calf," where they took
their meals, he had sent her home with the children and never
reappeared himself till late at night, alleging that he had been in search
of work. That evening, while watching for his return, she thought she
had seen him enter the dancing-hall of the "Grand- Balcony," the ten
blazing windows of which lighted up with the glare of a conflagration
the dark expanse of the exterior Boulevards; and five or six paces
behind him, she had caught sight of little Adele, a burnisher, who dined
at the same restaurant, swinging her hands, as if she had just quitted his
arm so as not to pass together under the dazzling light of the globes at
the door.
When, towards five o'clock, Gervaise awoke, stiff and sore, she broke
forth into sobs. Lantier had not returned. For the first time he had slept
away from home. She remained seated on the edge of the bed, under
the strip of faded chintz, which hung from the rod fastened to the
ceiling by a piece of string. And slowly, with her eyes veiled by tears,
she glanced round the wretched lodging, furnished with a walnut chest
of drawers, minus one drawer, three rush-bottomed chairs, and a little
greasy table, on which stood a broken water-jug. There had been added,
for the children, an iron bedstead, which prevented any one getting to
the chest of drawers, and filled two-thirds of the room. Gervaise's and
Lantier's trunk, wide open, in one corner, displayed its emptiness, and a

man's old hat right at the bottom almost buried beneath some dirty
shirts and socks; whilst, against the walls, above the articles of
furniture, hung a shawl full of holes, and a pair of trousers begrimed
with mud, the last rags which the dealers in second- hand clothes
declined to buy. In the centre of the mantel-piece, lying between two
odd zinc candle-sticks, was a bundle of pink pawn-tickets. It was the
best room of the hotel, the first floor room, looking on to the
Boulevard.
The two children were sleeping side by side, with their heads on the
same pillow. Claude, aged eight years, was breathing quietly, with his
little hands thrown outside the coverlet; while Etienne, only four years
old, was smiling, with one arm round his brother's neck! And
bare-footed, without thinking to again put on the old shoes that had
fallen on the floor, she resumed her position at the window, her eyes
searching the pavements in the distance.
The hotel was situated on the Boulevard de la Chapelle, to the left of
the Barriere Poissonniere. It was a building of two stories high, painted
a red, of the color of wine dregs, up to the second floor, and with
shutters all rotted by the rain. Over a lamp with starred panes of glass,
one could manage to read, between the two windows, the words, "Hotel
Boncoeur, kept by Marsoullier," painted in big yellow letters, several
pieces of which the moldering of the plaster had carried away. The
lamp preventing her seeing, Gervaise raised herself on tiptoe, still
holding the handkerchief to her lips. She looked to the right,