It must have been the Saturday after quarter day, something like the 12th or 13th of January--Gervaise didn't quite know.

She was losing her wits, for it was centuries since she had had anything warm in her stomach.

Ah! what an infernal week! A complete clear out.

Two loaves of four pounds each on Tuesday, which had lasted till Thursday; then a dry crust found the night before, and finally not a crumb for thirty-six hours, a real dance before the cupboard! What did she know, by the way, what she felt on her back, was the frightful cold, a black cold, the sky as grimy as a frying-pan, thick with snow which obstinately refused to fall.

When winter and hunger are both together in your guts, you may tighten your belt as much as you like, it hardly feeds you.
Perhaps Coupeau would bring back some money in the evening.