Mme Fauconnier begged for the head--she adored the head--and Boche asked especially for onions. Mme Lerat compressed her lips and said morosely: "Of course. I might have known that!" Mme Lerat was a hard-working woman. No man had ever put his nose within her door since her widowhood, and yet her instincts were thoroughly bad; every word uttered by others bore to her ears a double meaning, a coarse allusion sometimes so deeply veiled that no one but herself could grasp its meaning. Boche leaned over her with a sensual smile and entreated an explanation. She shook her head. "Of course," she repeated. "Onions! I knew it!" Everybody was talking now, each of his own trade. Madinier declared that boxmaking was an art, and he cited the New Year bonbon boxes as wonders of luxury. Lorilleux talked of his chains, of their delicacy and beauty. He said that in former times jewelers wore swords at their sides. Coupeau described a weathercock made by one of his comrades out of tin. Mme Lerat showed Bibi-la-Grillade how a rose stem was made by rolling the handle of her knife between her bony fingers, and Mme Fauconnier complained loudly of one of her apprentices who the night before had badly scorched a pair of linen sheets. "It is no use to talk!" cried Lorilleux, striking his fist on the table. "Gold is gold!" A profound silence followed the utterance of this truism, amid which arose from the other end of the table the piping tones of Mlle Remanjon's voice as she said: "And then I sew on the skirt. I stick a pin in the head to hold on the cap, and it is done. They sell for three cents." She was describing her dolls to Mes-Bottes, whose jaws worked steadily, like machinery. He did not listen, but he nodded at intervals, with his eyes fixed on the _garcons_ to see that they carried away no dishes that were not emptied. There had been veal cutlets and string beans served. As a _roti,_ two lean chickens on a bed of water cresses were brought in. The room was growing very warm; the sun was lingering on the tops of the acacias, but the room was growing dark. The men threw off their coats and ate in their shirt sleeves. "Mme Boche," cried Gervaise, "please don't let those children eat so much." But Mme Coupeau interposed and declared that for once in a while a little fit of indigestion would do them no harm. Mme Boche accused her husband of holding Mme Lerat's hand under the table. Madinier talked politics. He was a Republican, and Bibi-la-Grillade and himself were soon in a hot discussion. "Who cares," cried Coupeau, "whether we have a king, an emperor or a president, so long as we earn our five francs per day!"