It seemed to her that she was dead, a very sweet death, from the depths of which she was happy to observe the others still in the land of the living.

The thin cries of her baby daughter rose above the hum of heavy voices that were discussing a recent murder on Rue du Bon Puits, at the other end of La Chapelle.
Then, as the visitors were thinking of leaving, they spoke of the christening.

The Lorilleux had promised to be godfather and godmother; they looked very glum over the matter.

However, if they had not been asked to stand they would have felt rather peculiar.

Coupeau did not see any need for christening the little one; it certainly would not procure her an income of ten thousand francs, and besides she might catch a cold from it.