Madame Firmin ate her supper with an air of perfect ease.

She felt sure that burglars would not bother with the kitchen.
Firmin's anxiety made him terribly thirsty.

Tumbler after tumbler of wine flowed down the throat for which he feared.

When he had finished his supper he went on satisfying his thirst.

Madame Firmin lighted his pipe for him, and went and washed up the supper-dishes in the scullery.
Then she came back, and sat down on the other side of the hearth, facing him.