Mother Coupeau and Nana had just gone to bed.

Gervaise, who had been just about to put up the shutters when they appeared, left the shop open and brought some glasses which she placed on a corner of the work-table with what was left of a bottle of brandy.
Lantier remained standing and avoided speaking directly to her.

However, when she served him, he exclaimed: "Only a thimbleful, madame, if you please." Coupeau looked at them and then spoke his mind very plainly.

They were not going to behave like a couple of geese he hoped! The past was past was it not?
If people nursed grudges for nine and ten years together one would end by no longer seeing anybody.

No, no, he carried his heart in his hand, he did! First of all, he knew who he had to deal with, a worthy woman and a worthy man--in short two friends! He felt easy; he knew he could depend upon them.
"Oh! that's certain, quite certain," repeated Gervaise, looking on the ground and scarcely understanding what she said.
"She is a sister now--nothing but a sister!" murmured Lantier in his turn.
"_Mon Dieu!_ shake hands," cried Coupeau, "and let those who don't like it go to blazes! When one has proper feelings one is better off than millionaires.