Lantier stood whistling while she gave these directions. Gervaise wore her silk dress, and she smiled as they walked down the street in alternate shadow and light from the shopwindows. The cafe concert was on the Boulevard de Rochechouart. It had once been a cafe and had had a concert room built on of rough planks. Over the door was a row of glass globes brilliantly illuminated. Long placards, nailed on wood, were standing quite out in the street by the side of the gutter. "Here we are!" said Lantier. "Mademoiselle Amanda makes her debut tonight." Bibi-la-Grillade was reading the placard. Bibi had a black eye, as if he had been fighting. "Hallo!" cried Lantier. "How are you? Where is Coupeau? Have you lost him?" "Yes, since yesterday. We had a little fight with a waiter at Baquets. He wanted us to pay twice for what we had, and somehow Coupeau and I got separated, and I have not seen him since." And Bibi gave a great yawn. He was in a disgraceful state of intoxication. He looked as if he had been rolling in the gutter. "And you know nothing of my husband?" asked Gervaise. "No, nothing. I think, though, he went off with a coachman." Lantier and Gervaise passed a very agreeable evening at the cafe concert, and when the doors were closed at eleven they went home in a sauntering sort of fashion. They were in no hurry, and the night was fair, though a little cool. Lantier hummed the air which Amanda had sung, and Gervaise added the chorus. The room had been excessively warm, and she had drunk several glasses of wine. She expressed a great deal of indignation at Mlle Amanda's costume. How did she dare face all those men, dressed like that? But her skin was beautiful, certainly, and she listened with considerable curiosity to all that Lantier could tell her about the woman. "Everybody is asleep," said Gervaise after she had rung the bell three times. The door was finally opened, but there was no light. She knocked at the door of the Boche quarters and asked for her key. The sleepy concierge muttered some unintelligible words, from which Gervaise finally gathered that Coupeau had been brought in by Poisson and that the key was in the door. Gervaise stood aghast at the disgusting sight that met her eyes as she entered the room where Coupeau lay wallowing on the floor. She shuddered and turned away. This sight annihilated every ray of sentiment remaining in her heart. "What am I to do?" she said piteously. "I can't stay here!" Lantier snatched her hand. "Gervaise," he said, "listen to me." But she understood him and drew hastily back. "No, no! Leave me, Auguste. I can manage." But Lantier would not obey her. He put his arm around her waist and pointed to her husband as he lay snoring, with his mouth wide open. "Leave me!" said Gervaise, imploringly, and she pointed to the room where her mother-in-law and Nana slept. "You will wake them!" she said. "You would not shame me before my child? Pray go!"