Then when he had pushed Gervaise into his own room he closed the door.

Here he was at home.

It was the narrow closet she was acquainted with; a schoolgirl's room, with the little iron bedstead hung with white curtains.

On the walls the engravings cut out of illustrated newspapers had gathered and spread, and they now reached to the ceiling.

The room looked so pure that Gervaise did not dare to advance, but retreated as far as she could from the lamp.