It was something to hear him bemoan his lot when they sat five at table, and the mother gave the best morsels to Jean, Lisa, and Gervaise.
"That's right," he would growl; "stuff them, make them burst!" Whenever Fine bought a garment or a pair of boots for them, he would sulk for days together.

Ah! if he had only known, he would never had had that pack of brats, who compelled him to limit his smoking to four sous' worth of tobacco a day, and too frequently obliged him to eat stewed potatoes for dinner, a dish which he heartily detested.
Later on, however, as soon as Jean and Gervaise earned their first francs, he found some good in children after all.

Lisa was no longer there.

He lived upon the earnings of the two others without compunction, as he had already lived upon their mother.

It was a well-planned speculation on his part.