"He's had his fill to-day." Gervaise, frightened, squeezed up against the door of the hotel.

Old Bazouge, an undertaker's helper of some fifty years of age, had his black trousers all stained with mud, his black cape hooked on to his shoulder, and his black feather hat knocked in by some tumble he had taken.
"Don't be afraid, he's harmless," continued Lorilleux.

"He's a neighbor of ours--the third room in the passage before us.

He would find himself in a nice mess if his people were to see him like this!" Old Bazouge, however, felt offended at the young woman's evident terror.
"Well, what!" hiccoughed he, "we ain't going to eat any one.

I'm as good as another any day, my little woman.