Mother Coupeau was dead.
Gently, without uttering a cry, icy cold yet prudent, the laundress returned to Lantier's room.

He had gone to sleep again.

She bent over him and murmured: "Listen, it's all over, she's dead." Heavy with sleep, only half awake, he grunted at first: "Leave me alone, get into bed.

We can't do her any good if she's dead." Then he raised himself on his elbow and asked: "What's the time ?" "Three o'clock." "Only three o'clock! Get into bed quick.

You'll catch cold.