A procession of girls went in to get hot potatoes wrapped in paper and cups of steaming mussels.

Other pretty girls bought bunches of radishes.

By leaning a bit, Gervaise could see into the sausage shop from which children issued, holding a fried chop, a sausage or a piece of hot blood pudding wrapped in greasy paper.

The street was always slick with black mud, even in clear weather.

A few laborers had already finished their lunch and were strolling aimlessly about, their open hands slapping their thighs, heavy from eating, slow and peaceful amid the hurrying crowd.