Coupeau did not understand this, but merely felt hurt at the harsh nickname.
"You do wrong to christen others," he replied angrily.

"You don't know perhaps, that in the neighborhood they call you Cow's-Tail, because of your hair.

There, that doesn't please you, does it?
Why should we not keep the room on the first floor?
To-night the children won't sleep there, and we shall be very comfortable." Madame Lorilleux added nothing further, but retired into her dignity, horribly annoyed at being called Cow's-Tail.

To cheer up Gervaise, Coupeau squeezed her arm softly.

He even succeeded in making her smile by whispering into her ear that they were setting up housekeeping with the grand sum of seven sous, three big two-sou pieces and one little sou, which he jingled in his pocket.
When they reached the Hotel Boncoeur, the two couples wished each other good-night, with an angry air; and as Coupeau pushed the two women into each other's arms, calling them a couple of ninnies, a drunken fellow, who seemed to want to go to the right, suddenly slipped to the left and came tumbling between them.
"Why, it's old Bazouge!" said Lorilleux.