Then without a word, in a transport as it were, he tried to seize hold of her and press her in his arms.

But she felt faint and murmured: "Oh! _Mon Dieu!_ Oh, _mon Dieu!_" The fire in the stove, having been covered with coke-dust, was still alight, and the remains of a stew which Goujet had put to warm, thinking he should return to dinner, was smoking in front of the cinders.
Gervaise, who felt her numbness leave her in the warmth of this room, would have gone down on all fours to eat out of the saucepan.

Her hunger was stronger than her will; her stomach seemed rent in two; and she stooped down with a sigh.

Goujet had realized the truth.

He placed the stew on the table, cut some bread, and poured her out a glass of wine.
"Thank you! Thank you!" said she.