As this was received with exclamations of rage, he went into explanations. He had furnished twenty-five liters of wine instead of twenty, as he agreed. The floating island was an addition, on seeing that the dessert was somewhat scanty, whereupon ensued a formidable quarrel. Coupeau declared he would not pay a sou of the extras. "There is your money," he said; "take it, and never again will one of us step a foot under your roof!" "I want six francs more," muttered the man. The women gathered about in great indignation; not a centime would they give, they declared. Mme Fauconnier had had a wretched dinner; she said she could have had a better one at home for forty sous. Such arrangements always turned out badly, and Mme Gaudron declared aloud that if people wanted their friends at their weddings they usually invited them out and out. Gervaise took refuge with her mother-in-law in a distant window, feeling heartily ashamed of the whole scene. M. Madinier went downstairs with the man, and low mutterings of the storm reached the party. At the end of a half-hour he reappeared, having yielded to the extent of paying three francs, but no one was satisfied, and they all began a discussion in regard to the extras. The evening was spoiled, as was Mme Lerat's dress; there was no end to the chapter of accidents. "I know," cried Mme Lorilleux, "that the _garcon_ spilled gravy from the chickens down my back." She twisted and turned herself before the mirror until she succeeded in finding the spot. "Yes, I knew it," she cried, "and he shall pay for it, as true as I live. I wish I had remained at home!" She left in a rage, and Lorilleux at her heels. When Coupeau saw her go he was in actual consternation, and Gervaise saw that it was best to make a move at once. Mme Boche had agreed to keep the children with her for a day or two. Coupeau and his wife hurried out in the hope of overtaking Mme Lorilleux which they soon did. Lorilleux, with the kindly desire of making all smooth said: "We will go to your door with you." "Your door, indeed!" cried his wife, and then pleasantly went on to express her surprise that they did not postpone their marriage until they had saved enough to buy a little furniture and move away from that hole up under the roof. "But I have given up that room," said her brother. "We shall have the one Gervaise occupies; it is larger." Mme Lorilleux forgot herself; she wheeled around suddenly. "What!" she exclaimed. "You are going to live in Wooden Legs' room?" Gervaise turned pale. This name she now heard for the first time, and it was like a slap in the face. She heard much more in her sister-in-law's exclamation than met the ear. That room to which allusion was made was the one where she had lived with Lantier for a whole month, where she had wept such bitter tears, but Coupeau did not understand that; he was only wounded by the name applied to his wife.