She resembled them so little now, that on the days when she had twenty sous she arranged things to let people think that she had forty.
Mother Coupeau and Gervaise talked of the Lorilleuxs whilst they laid the cloth about three o'clock.

They had hung some big curtains at the windows; but as it was very warm the door was left open and the whole street passed in front of the little table.

The two women did not place a decanter, or a bottle, or a salt-cellar, without trying to arrange them in such a way as to annoy the Lorilleuxs.

They had arranged their seats so as to give them a full view of the superbly laid cloth, and they had reserved the best crockery for them, well knowing that the porcelain plates would create a great effect.
"No, no, mamma," cried Gervaise; "don't give them those napkins! I've two damask ones." "Ah, good!" murmured the old woman; "that'll break their hearts, that's certain." And they smiled to each other as they stood up on either side of that big white table on which the fourteen knives and forks, placed all round, caused them to swell with pride.

It had the appearance of the altar of some chapel in the middle of the shop.
"That's because they're so stingy themselves!" resumed Gervaise.