The sausage man arranged the dishes scattered on his counter.

Great bearded workmen were as playful as young boys, clumping along in their hobnailed boots.

Other workmen were smoking, staring up into the sky and blinking their eyes.

Factory bells began to ring in the distance, but the workers, in no hurry, relit their pipes.

Later, after being tempted by one wineshop after another, they finally decided to return to their jobs, but were still dragging their feet.
Gervaise amused herself by watching three workmen, a tall fellow and two short ones who turned to look back every few yards; they ended by descending the street, and came straight to Pere Colombe's l'Assommoir.
"Ah, well," murmured she, "there're three fellows who don't seem inclined for work!" "Why!" said Coupeau, "I know the tall one, it's My-Boots, a comrade of mine." Pere Colombe's l'Assommoir was now full.