One Monday evening Coupeau came in as tipsy as usual and threw himself on the bed, all dressed. Gervaise intended to remain with her mother-in-law part of the night, but Nana was very brave and said she would hear if her grandmother moved and wanted anything. About half-past three Gervaise woke with a start; it seemed to her that a cold blast had swept through the room. Her candle had burned down, and she nastily wrapped a shawl around her with trembling hands and hurried into the next room. Nana was sleeping quietly, and her grandmother was dead in the bed at her side. Gervaise went to Lantier and waked him. "She is dead," she said. "Well, what of it?" he muttered, half asleep. "Why don't you go to sleep?" She turned away in silence while he grumbled at her coming to disturb him by the intelligence of a death in the house. Gervaise dressed herself, not without tears, for she really loved the cross old woman whose son lay in the heavy slumbers of intoxication. When she went back to the room she found Nana sitting up and rubbing her eyes. The child realized what had come to pass and trembled nervously in the face of this death of which she had thought much in the last two days, as of something which was hidden from children. "Get up!" said her mother in a low voice. "I do not wish you to stay here." The child slipped from her bed slowly and regretfully, with her eyes fixed on the dead body of her grandmother. Gervaise did not know what to do with her or where to send her. At this moment Lantier appeared at the door. He had dressed himself, impelled by a little shame at his own conduct. "Let the child go into my room," he said, "and I will help you." Nana looked first at her mother and then at Lantier and then trotted with her little bare feet into the next room and slipped into the bed that was still warm. She lay there wide awake with blazing cheeks and eyes and seemed to be absorbed in thought. While Lantier and Gervaise were silently occupied with the dead Coupeau lay and snored. Gervaise hunted in a bureau to find a little crucifix which she had brought from Plassans, when she suddenly remembered that Mamma Coupeau had sold it. They each took a glass of wine and sat by the stove until daybreak. About seven o'clock Coupeau woke. When he heard what had happened he declared they were jesting. But when he saw the body he fell on his knees and wept like a baby. Gervaise was touched by these tears and found her heart softer toward her husband than it had been for many a long year. "Courage, old friend!" said Lantier, pouring out a glass of wine as he spoke. Coupeau took some wine, but he continued to weep, and Lantier went off under pretext of informing the family, but he did not hurry. He walked along slowly, smoking a cigar, and after he had been to Mme Lerat's he stopped in at a _cremerie_ to take a cup of coffee, and there he sat for an hour or more in deep thought.