And as on withdrawing he again passed before the little room, he saluted the corpse a last time through the wide open door by devoutly bending his knee. They began eating and gobbled the food down very quickly, so as not to seem to be enjoying it, only slowing down when they reached the dessert. Occasionally Gervaise or one of the sisters would get up, still holding her napkin, to look into the small room. They made plenty of strong coffee to keep them awake through the night. The Poissons arrived about eight and were invited for coffee. Then Lantier, who had been watching Gervaise’s face, seemed to seize an opportunity that he had been waiting for ever since the morning. In speaking of the indecency of landlords who entered houses of mourning to demand their money, he said: “He’s a Jesuit, the beast, with his air of officiating at a mass! But in your place, I’d just chuck up the shop altogether.” Gervaise, quite worn out and feeling weak and nervous, gave way and replied: “Yes, I shall certainly not wait for the bailiffs. Ah! it’s more than I can bear—more than I can bear.” The Lorilleuxs, delighted at the idea that Clump-clump would no longer have a shop, approved the plan immensely. One could hardly conceive the great cost a shop was. If she only earned three francs working for others she at least had no expenses; she did not risk losing large sums of money. They repeated this argument to Coupeau, urging him on; he drank a great deal and remained in a continuous fit of sensibility, weeping all day by himself in his plate. As the laundress seemed to be allowing herself to be convinced, Lantier looked at the Poissons and winked. And tall Virginie intervened, making herself most amiable. “You know, we might arrange the matter between us. I would relieve you of the rest of the lease and settle your matter with the landlord. In short, you would not be worried nearly so much.” “No thanks,” declared Gervaise, shaking herself as though she felt a shudder pass over her. “I’ll work; I’ve got my two arms, thank heaven! to help me out of my difficulties.” “We can talk about it some other time,” the hatter hastened to put in. “It’s scarcely the thing to do so this evening. Some other time—in the morning for instance.” At this moment, Madame Lerat, who had gone into the little room, uttered a faint cry. She had had a fright because she had found the candle burnt out. They all busied themselves in lighting another; they shook their heads, saying that it was not a good sign when the light went out beside a corpse.