Lantier suggested to Virginie that she should have Gervaise come in once each week to wash the floors, shop and the rooms. This she did and received thirty sous each time. Gervaise appeared on Saturday mornings with her bucket and brush, without seeming to suffer a single pang at doing this menial work in the house where she had lived as mistress. One Saturday Gervaise had hard work. It had rained for three days, and all the mud of the streets seemed to have been brought into the shop. Virginie stood behind the counter with collar and cuffs trimmed with lace. Near her on a low chair lounged Lantier, and he was, as usual, eating candy. "Really, Madame Coupeau," cried Virginie, "can't you do better than that? You have left all the dirt in the corners. Don't you see? Oblige me by doing that over again." Gervaise obeyed. She went back to the corner and scrubbed it again. She was on her hands and knees, with her sleeves rolled up over her arms. Her old skirt clung close to her stout form, and the sweat poured down her face. "The more elbow grease she uses, the more she shines," said Lantier sententiously with his mouth full. Virginie, leaning back in her chair with the air of a princess, followed the progress of the work with half-closed eyes. "A little more to the right. Remember, those spots must all be taken out. Last Saturday, you know, I was not pleased." And then Lantier and Virginie fell into a conversation, while Gervaise crawled along the floor in the dirt at their feet. Mme Poisson enjoyed this, for her cat's eyes sparkled with malicious joy, and she glanced at Lantier with a smile. At last she was avenged for that mortification at the lavatory, which had for years weighed heavy on her soul. "By the way," said Lantier, addressing himself to Gervaise, "I saw Nana last night." Gervaise started to her feet with her brush in her hand. "Yes, I was coming down La Rue des Martyrs. In front of me was a young girl on the arm of an old gentleman. As I passed I glanced at her face and assure you that it was Nana. She was well dressed and looked happy." "Ah!" said Gervaise in a low, dull voice. Lantier, who had finished one jar, now began another. "What a girl that is!" he continued. "Imagine that she made me a sign to follow with the most perfect self-possession. She got rid of her old gentleman in a cafe and beckoned me to the door. She asked me to tell her about everybody." "Ah!" repeated Gervaise. She stood waiting. Surely this was not all. Her daughter must have sent her some especial message. Lantier ate his sugarplums. "I would not have looked at her," said Virginie. "I sincerely trust, if I should meet her, that she would not speak to me for, really, it would mortify me beyond expression. I am sorry for you, Madame Gervaise, but the truth is that Poisson arrests every day a dozen just such girls." Gervaise said nothing; her eyes were fixed on vacancy. She shook her head slowly, as if in reply to her own thoughts.