Now, as Augustine went about cleaning the iron, she saved up her spit and each time she passed Clemence spat on her back and laughed to herself.
Gervaise continued with the lace of Madame Boche's cap.

In the sudden calm which ensued, one could hear Coupeau's husky voice issuing from the depths of the bedroom.

He was still jolly, and was laughing to himself as he uttered bits of phrases.
"How stupid she is, my wife! How stupid of her to put me to bed! Really, it's too absurd, in the middle of the day, when one isn't sleepy." But, all on a sudden, he snored.

Then Gervaise gave a sigh of relief, happy in knowing that he was at length quiet, and sleeping off his intoxication on two good mattresses.

And she spoke out in the silence, in a slow and continuous voice, without taking her eyes off her work.
"You see, he hasn't his reason, one can't be angry.