She thought she had felt a cold breath pass over her body.

The morsel of candle had burnt out; she tied on her petticoats in the dark, all bewildered, and with feverish hands.

It was not till she got into the little room, after knocking up against the furniture, that she was able to light a small lamp.

In the midst of the oppressive silence of night, the zinc-worker's snores alone sounded as two grave notes.

Nana, stretched on her back, was breathing gently between her pouting lips.
And Gervaise, holding down the lamp which caused big shadows to dance about the room, cast the light on mother Coupeau's face, and beheld it all white, the head lying on the shoulder, the eyes wide open.