“Vile druggist, you’ve changed the bottle! You know it’s no good your trying to palm your cheap stuff off on me.” The day had advanced; a doubtful sort of light lit up l’Assommoir, where the landlord was turning out the gas. Coupeau found excuses for his brother-in-law who could not stand drink, which after all was no crime. He even approved Goujet’s behavior for it was a real blessing never to be thirsty. And as he talked of going off to his work Lantier, with his grand air of a gentleman, sharply gave him a lesson. One at least stood one’s turn before sneaking off; one should not leave one’s friends like a mean blackguard, even when going to do one’s duty. “Is he going to badger us much longer about his work?” cried My-Boots. “So this is your turn, sir?” asked Pere Colombe of Coupeau. The latter paid. But when it came to Bibi-the-Smoker’s turn he whispered to the landlord who refused with a shake of the head. My-Boots understood, and again set to abusing the old Jew Colombe. What! A rascal like him dared to behave in that way to a comrade! Everywhere else one could get drink on tick! It was only in such low boozing-dens that one was insulted! The landlord remained calm, leaning his big fists on the edge of the counter. He politely said: “Lend the gentleman some money—that will be far simpler.” “_Mon Dieu!_ Yes, I’ll lend him some,” yelled My-Boots. “Here! Bibi, throw this money in his face, the limb of Satan!” Then, excited and annoyed at seeing Coupeau with his bag slung over his shoulder, he continued speaking to the zinc-worker: “You look like a wet-nurse. Drop your brat. It’ll give you a hump-back.” Coupeau hesitated an instant; and then, quietly, as though he had only made up his mind after considerable reflection, he laid his bag on the ground saying: “It’s too late now. I’ll go to Bourguignon’s after lunch. I’ll tell him that the missus was ill. Listen, Pere Colombe, I’ll leave my tools under this seat and I’ll call for them at twelve o’clock.” Lantier gave his blessing to this arrangement with an approving nod. Labor was necessary, yes, but when you’re with good friends, courtesy comes first. Now the four had five hours of idleness before them. They were full of noisy merriment. Coupeau was especially relieved. They had another round and then went to a small bar that had a billiard table. At first Lantier turned up his nose at this establishment because it was rather shabby. So much liquor had been spilled on the billiard table that the balls stuck to it. Once the game got started though, Lantier recovered his good humor and began to flaunt his extraordinary knack with a cue. When lunch time came Coupeau had an idea. He stamped his feet and cried: “We must go and fetch Salted-Mouth. I know where he’s working. We’ll take him to Mere Louis’ to have some pettitoes.”