"Ah! slut," he yelled, "I've followed you. I knew well enough you were coming back here to get him to fill you. And it's you that pay him, eh? You pour coffee down him with my money!"
Maheude and Étienne were stupefied, and did not stir. With a furious movement Chaval chased Catherine towards the door.
"Out you go, by God!"
And as she took refuge in a corner he turned on her mother.
"A nice business, keeping watch while your whore of a daughter is kicking her legs upstairs!"
At last he caught Catherine's wrist, shaking her and dragging her out. At the door he again turned towards Maheude, who was nailed to her chair. She had forgotten to fasten up her breast. Estelle had gone to sleep, and her face had slipped down into the woollen petticoat; the enormous breast was hanging free and naked like the udder of a great cow.
"When the daughter is not at it, it's the mother who gets herself plugged," cried Chaval. "Go on, show him your meat! He isn't disgusted—your dirty lodger!"
At this Étienne was about to strike his mate. The fear of arousing the settlement by a fight had kept him back from snatching Catherine from Chaval's hands. But rage was now carrying him away, and the two men were face to face with inflamed eyes. It was an old hatred, a jealousy long unacknowledged, which was breaking out. One of them now must do for the other.
"Take care!" stammered Étienne, with clenched teeth. "I'll do for you."
"Try!" replied Chaval.