Really though, he felt the need of fresh air, and so he took his time, smoking cigarettes and enjoying the morning air.
When he left Madame Lerat's house, he went into a dairy place on Les Batignolles for a cup of hot coffee and remained there an hour, thinking things over.
Towards nine o'clock the family were all united in the shop, the shutters of which were kept up.

Lorilleux did not cry.

Moreover he had some pressing work to attend to, and he returned almost directly to his room, after having stalked about with a face put on for the occasion.
Madame Lorilleux and Madame Lerat embraced the Coupeaus and wiped their eyes, from which a few tears were falling.

But Madame Lorilleux, after giving a hasty glance round the death chamber, suddenly raised her voice to say that it was unheard of, that one never left a lighted lamp beside a corpse; there should be a candle, and Nana was sent to purchase a packet of tall ones.

Ah, well! It made one long to die at Clump-clump's, she laid one out in such a fine fashion! What a fool, not even to know what to do with a corpse! Had she then never buried anyone in her life?
Madame Lerat had to go to the neighbors and borrow a crucifix; she brought one back which was too big, a cross of black wood with a Christ in painted cardboard fastened to it, which covered the whole of mother Coupeau's chest, and seemed to crush her under its weight.