Then, the buildings were tumbling down, he imitated the cracking of a whole neighborhood collapsing; and all disappeared, all flew off. But he had no time to take breath, other pictures passed with extraordinary rapidity. A furious desire to speak filled his mouth full of words which he uttered without any connection, and with a gurgling sound in his throat. He continued to raise his voice, louder and louder.
“Hallow, it’s you? Good-day! No jokes! Don’t make me nuzzle your hair.”
And he passed his hand before his face, he blew to send the hairs away. The house surgeon questioned him.
“Who is it you see?”
“My wife, of course!”
He was looking at the wall, with his back to Gervaise. The latter had a rare fright, and she examined the wall, to see if she also could catch sight of herself there. He continued talking.
“Now, you know, none of your wheedling—I won’t be tied down! You are pretty, you have got a fine dress. Where did you get the money for it, you cow? You’ve been at a party, camel! Wait a bit and I’ll do for you! Ah! you’re hiding your boy friend behind your skirts. Who is it? Stoop down that I may see. Damnation, it’s him again!”
With a terrible leap, he went head first against the wall; but the padding softened the blow. One only heard his body rebounding onto the matting, where the shock had sent him.
“Who is it you see?” repeated the house surgeon.
“The hatter! The hatter!” yelled Coupeau.