 Chapter 26 of Therese Rakhine by Emile Zola, translated by Ernest Alfred Vistele. The crisis-threatening Madame Rakhine took place. The paralysis, which for several months had been creeping along her limbs, always ready to strangle her, at last took her by the throat and linked her body. One evening, while conversing peacefully with Therese and Laurent, she remained in the middle of a sentence with her mouth wide open. She felt as if she was being throttled. When she wanted to cry out and call for help, she could only splutter a few hoarse sounds. Her hands and feet were rigid. She found herself struck dumb and powerless to move. Therese and Laurent rose from their chairs, terrified at this stroke, which had contorted the old Mercer in less than five seconds. When she became rigid, and fixed her supplicating eyes on them, they pressed her with questions in order to ascertain the cause of her suffering. Unable to reply, she continued gazing at them in profound anguish. They then understood that they had nothing but a corpse before them, a corpse half alive that could see and hear, but could not speak to them. They were in despair of this attack. At the bottom of their hearts they cared little for the suffering of the paralyzed woman. They mourned over themselves, who in future would have to live alone, face to face. From this day the life of the married couple became intolerable. They passed the most cruel evenings opposite the impotent old lady, who no longer lulled their terror with her gentle idle chatter. She reposed in an armchair, like a parcel, a thing, while they remained alone, one at each end of the table, embarrassed and anxious. This body no longer separated them. At times they forgot it, confounding it with the articles of furniture. They were now seized with the same terror as at night. The dining-room became, like the bedroom, a terrible spot, where the specter of Camille arose, causing them to suffer an extra four or five hours daily. As soon as twilight came they shuttered, lowering the lampshade, so as not to see one another, and endeavouring to persuade themselves that Madame Rakhine was about to speak, and thus remind them of her presence. If they kept her with them, if they did not get rid of her, it was because her eyes were still alive, and they experienced a little relief in watching them move and sparkle. They always placed the impotent old lady in the bright beam of the lamp, so as to thoroughly light a perface and have it always before them. This flabby, livid countenance would have been a sight that others could not have borne, but Therese and Laurent experienced such need for company that they gazed upon it with real joy. This face looked like that of a dead person in the centre of which two living eyes had been fixed. These eyes alone moved, rolling rapidly in their orbits. The cheeks and mouth maintained such appalling immobility that they seemed as though petrified. When Madame Rakhine fell asleep and lowered her lids, her countenance, which was then quite white and mute, was really that of a corpse. Therese and Laurent, who no longer felt any one with them, then made a noise until the paralysed woman raised her eyelids and looked at them. In this manner they compelled her to remain awake. They regarded her as a distraction that drew them from their bad dreams. Since she had been infirm, they had to attend to her like a child. The care they lavished on her forced them to scatter their thoughts. In the morning Laurent lifted her up and bore her to her armchair. At night he placed her on her bed again. She was still heavy, and he had to exert all his strength to raise her delicately in his arms and carry her. It was also he who rolled her armchair along. The other attentions fell to Therese. She dressed and fed the impotent old lady and sought to understand her slightest wish. For a few days Madame Rakhine preserved the use of her hands. She could write on a slate, and in this way asked for what she required. Then the hands withered, and it became impossible for her to raise them or hold a pencil. From that moment her eyes were her only language, and it was necessary for her niece to guess what she desired. The young woman devoted herself to the hard duties of sick nurse, which gave her occupation for body and mind that did her much good. So as not to remain face to face the married couple rolled the armchair of the poor old lady into the dining-room the first thing in the morning. They placed her between them, as if she were necessary to their existence. They caused her to be present at their meals and at all their interviews. When she signified the desire to retire to her bedroom they feigned not to understand. She was only of use to interrupt their private conversations, and had no right to live apart. At eight o'clock Laurent went to his studio. Therese descended to the shop, while a paralyzed woman remained alone in the dining-room until noon. Then after lunch she found herself without company again until six o'clock. Frequently during the day her niece ran upstairs, and hovering round her made sure she did not require anything. The friends of the family were at a loss, for sufficiently laudatory phrases were in to extol the virtues of Therese and Laurent. The Thursday receptions continued, the impotent old lady being present, as in the past. Her armchair was advanced to the table, and from eight o'clock till eleven she kept her eyes open, casting penetrating glances from one to another of her guests in turn. On the first few of these evenings old Michel and Grive felt some embarrassment in the presence of the corpse of their old friend. They did not know what continence to put on. They only experienced moderate sorrow, and they were inquiring in their minds in what measure it would be suitable to display their grief. Should they speak to this lifeless form? Should they refrain from troubling about it? Little by little they decided to treat Madame Rakhine as though nothing had happened to her. They ended by fanning to completely ignore her condition. They chatted with her, putting questions and giving the answers, laughing both for her and for themselves, and never permitting the rigid expression on the continence to baffle them. It was a strange sight. These men who appeared to be speaking sensibly to a statue, just as little girls talked to their dolls. The paralyzed women sat rigid and mute before them, while they babbled, multiplying their gestures and exceedingly animated conversations with her. Michel and Grive prided themselves on their correct attitude. In acting as they did, they believed they were giving proof of politeness. They, moreover, avoided the annoyance of the customary condolences. They fancied that Madame Rakhine must feel flattered to find herself treated as a person in good health, and from that moment it became impossible for them to be merry in her presence, without the least scruple. Grive had contracted a mania. He affirmed that Madame Rakhine and himself understood one another perfectly, and that she could not look at him without him at once comprehending what she desired. This was another delicate attention. Grive was on every occasion in error. He frequently interrupted the game of Dominoes, to observe the infirm woman whose eyes were quietly following the game, and declare that she wanted such or such a thing. On further inquiry it was found that she wanted nothing at all, or that she wanted something entirely different. This did not discourage Grive, who triumphantly exclaimed, just as I said, and he began again a few moments later. It was quite another matter when the impotent old lady openly expressed a desire. Therese, Laurent, and the guests named one object after another that they fancied she might wish for. Gervais then made himself remarkable by the clumsiness of his offers. He mentioned, haphazard, everything that came into his head, invariably offering the contrary to what Madame Rakhine desired. But the circumstance did not prevent him, repeating, I can read in her eyes, as in a book. Look, she says, I am right, it is not so, dear lady, yes, yes. Nevertheless it was no easy matter to grasp the wishes of the poor old woman. Therese, Laurent, possessed this faculty. She communicated fairly well with this walled-up brain, still alive, but buried in a lifeless frame. Laurent was passing within this wretched creature, just sufficiently alive to be present at the events of life without taking part in them. She saw and heard. She no doubt reasoned in a distinct and clear manner. But she was without gesture and voice to express the thoughts originating in her mind. Her ideas were perhaps choking her, and yet she could not raise a hand nor open her mouth, even though one of her movements, or words, should decide the destiny of the world. Her mind resembled those of the living buried by mistake, who awaken in the middle of the night in the earth three or four yards below the surface of the ground. They shout, they struggle, and people pass over them without hearing their atrocious lamentations. Laurent frequently gazed at Madame Rakhine, his lips pressed together, his hands stretched out on his knees, putting all his life into his sparkling and swiftly moving eyes. And he said to himself, who knows what she may be thinking of all alone. Some cruel drama must be passing within this inanimate frame. Laurent made a mistake. Madame Rakhine was happy, happy at the care and affection bestowed on her by her dear children. She had always dreamed of ending in this gentle way, amidst devotedness and caresses. Certainly she would have been pleased to have preserved her speech, so as to be able to thank the friends who assisted her to die in peace. But she accepted her condition without rebellion. The tranquil and retired life she had always led, the sweetness of her character prevented her, failing too acutely the suffering of being mute and unable to make a movement. She had entered second childhood. She passed days without wariness, gazing before her and musing on the past. She even tasted the charm of remaining very good in her armchair, like a little girl. Each day the sweetness and brightness of her eyes became more penetrating. She had reached the point of making them perform the duties of a hand or mouth in asking for what she required and in expressing her thanks. In this way she replaced the organs that were wanting in a most peculiar and charming manner. Her eyes, in the center of her flabby and grimacing face, were of celestial beauty. Since her twisted and inert lips could no longer smile, she smiled with adorable tenderness by her looks. Moist beams and rays of dawn issued from her orbits. Nothing was more peculiar than those eyes which laughed like lips in this lifeless countenance. The lower part of the face remained gloomy and won, while the upper part was divinely lit up. It was particularly for her beloved children that she placed all her gratitude, all the affection of her soul, into a simple glance. When Laurent took her in his arms, morning and night, to carry her, she thanked him lovingly by looks full of tender effusion. She lived thus for weeks, awaiting death, fancying herself, sheltered from any fresh misfortune. She thought she had already received her share of suffering, but she was mistaken. One night she was crushed by a frightful blow. Teresa Laurent might well place her between them in the full light, but she was no longer sufficiently animated to separate and defend them against their anguish. When they forgot that she was there, and could hear and see them, they were seized with folly. Perceiving Camille, they sought to drive him away. Then in unsteady tones they allowed the truth to escape them, uttering words that revealed everything to Madame Rackine. Laurent had a sort of attack, during which he spoke like one under the influence of hallucination, and the paralyzed woman abruptly understood. A frightful contraction passed over her face, and she experienced such a shock that Teresa thought she was about to bound to her feet and shriek, but she fell backward, rigid as iron. This shock was all the most terrible, as it seemed to galvanize a corpse. Sensibility which had for a moment returned disappeared. The impotent woman remained more crushed and waned than before. Her eyes, usually so gentle, had become dark and harsh, resembling pieces of metal. Never had despair fallen more rigorously on a being. The sinister truth, like a flash of flame, scorched the eyes of the paralyzed woman and penetrated within her with the concussion of a shaft of lightning. Had she been able to rise, to utter the cry of horror that ascended to her throat, and cursed the murderers of her son, she would have suffered less. But after hearing and understanding everything, she was forced to remain motionless and mute, inwardly preserving all the glare of her grief. It seemed to her that Teresa and Laurent had bound her, riveted her to her armchair to prevent her from springing up, and that they took atrocious pleasure in repeating to her, after gagging her to stifle her cries, We have killed Camille! Terror and anguish coerced furiously in her body, unable to find an issue. She made superhuman efforts to raise the weight crushing her, to clear her throat and thus give passage to her flood of despair. In vain did she strain her final energy. She felt her tongue cold against her palate. She could not tear herself from death. This impotence held her rigid. Her sensations resembled those of a man fallen into lethargy, who was being buried, and who, bound by the bonds of his own frame, hears the deaden sound of the shovels of mould falling on his head. The ravages to which her heart was subjected prove still more terrible. She felt a blow inwardly that completely undead her. Her entire life was afflicted at her tenderness, all her goodness. All her devotedness had just been brutally upset and trampled under foot. She had led a life of affection and gentleness, and in her last hours, when about to carry to the grave a belief in the delight of a calm life a voice shouted to her that all was false and all crime. The veil being rent, she perceived apart from the love and friendship, which was all she had hitherto been able to see, a frightful picture of blood and shame. She would have cursed the Almighty had she been able to shout out a blasphemy. Providence had deceived her for over sixty years by treating her as a gentle, good little girl, by amusing her with lying representations of tranquil joy. When she had remained a child, senselessly believing in a thousand silly things, and unable to see life as it really is, dragging along in the sanguinary filth of passions. Providence was bad. It should have told her the truth before, or have allowed her to continue in her innocence and blindness. Now it only remained for her to die, denying love, denying friendship, denying devotedness. Nothing existed but murder and lust. What! Camille had been killed by Therese Saint Laurent, and they had conceived this crime in shame. For Madame Rackin there was such a fathomless depth in this thought that she could neither reason it out nor grasp it, clearly. She experienced but one sensation, that of a horrible disaster. It seemed to her that she was falling into a dark, cold hole, and she said to herself. I shall be smashed to pieces at the bottom. After the first shock, the crime appeared to her so monstrous that it seemed impossible. Then, when convinced of the misbehavior and murder, by recalling certain little incidents which she had formerly failed to understand, she was afraid of going out of her mind. Therese and Laurent were really the murderers of Camille, Therese whom she had reared, Laurent whom she had loved with the devoted and tender affection of a mother. These thoughts revolved in her head like an immense wheel, accompanied by a deafening noise. She conjectured such vile details, fathomed such immense hypocrisy, assisting in thought at a double vision so atrocious in irony that she would have liked to die, mechanical and implacable, pounded her brain with an weight and ceaseless action of a millstone. She repeated to herself. It is my children who have killed my child. And she could think of nothing else to express her despair. In the sudden change that had come over her heart, she no longer recognized herself. She remained weighed down by the brutal invasion of ideas of vengeance that drove away all the goodness of her life. When she had been, thus transformed, all was dark inwardly. She felt the birth of a new being within her frame, a being pitiless and cruel, who would have liked to bite the murderers of her son. When she had succumbed to the overwhelming stroke of paralysis, when she understood that she could not fly at the throats of Therese and Laurent, whom she longed to strangle, she resigned herself to silence and immobility, and great tears fell slowly from her eyes. Nothing could be more heart-rending than this mute and motionless despair. Those tears coursing one by one down this lifeless continent, not a wrinkle of which moved that inert one face which could not weep with its features, and whose eyes alone sobbed, presented a poignant spectacle. Therese was seized with horrified pity. "'We must put her to bed,' said she to Laurent, pointing to her aunt. Laurent hastened to roll the paralyzed woman into her bedroom. Then as he stooped down to take her in his arms, Madame Raquine hoped that some powerful spring would place her on her feet, and she attempted a supreme effort. The Almighty would not permit Laurent to press her to his bosom. She fully anticipated he would be struck down if he displayed such monstrous impudence. But no spring came into action, and heaven reserved its lightning. Madame Raquine remained huddled up and passive like a bundle of linen. She was grasped, raised, and carried along by the assassin. She experienced the anguish of feeling herself feeble, and abandoned in the arms of the murderer of Camille. Her head rolled on to the shoulder of Laurent, whom she observed with eyes increased in volume by horror. "'You may look at me,' he murmured. "'Your eyes will not eat me.' And he cast her brutally on the bed. The impotent old lady fell unconscious on the mattress. Her last thought had been one of terror and disgust. In future, morning and night, she would have to submit to the vile pressure of the arms of Laurent. CHAPTER 27 A shock of terror alone had made the married pair speak, and avow their crime in the presence of Madame Raquine. Neither one nor the other was cruel. They would have avoided such a revelation out of feelings of humanity had not their own security already made it imperative on their part to maintain silence. On the ensuing Thursday they felt particularly anxious. In the morning Thérèse inquired of Laurent whether he considered it prudent to leave the paralysed woman in the dining-room during the evening. She knew all and might give the alarm. "'Bah!' replied Laurent. "'It is impossible for her to raise her little finger. How can she babble? She will perhaps discover a way to do so.' And Thérèse said. "'I have noticed an implacable thought in her eyes since the other evening.' "'No,' said Laurent. "'You see, the doctor told me it was absolutely all over with her. If she ever speaks again, it will be in the final death-rattle. She will not last much longer, you may be sure. It would be stupid to place an additional load on our conscience by preventing her being present at the gathering this evening.' Thérèse shuddered. "'You misunderstand me,' she exclaimed. "'Oh! You are right. There has been enough crime. I meant to say that we might shut our arms up in her own room, pretending she was not well and was sleeping.' "'That's it,' replied Loho, and that idiot Michaud would go straight into the room to see his old friend notwithstanding. It would be a capital way to ruin us.' He hesitated. He wanted to appear calm, and anxiety gave a tremor to his voice. "'It will be best to let matters take their course,' he continued. "'These people are as silly as geese. The mute despair of the old woman will certainly teach them nothing. They will never have the least suspicion of the thing, for they are too far away from the truth. Once the ordeal is over, we shall be at ease as to the consequences of our imprudence. We'll be well. You will see.' When the guests arrived in the evening, Madame Raca occupied her usual place between the stove and table. Thérèse and Loho feigned to be in good spirits concealing their shutters and awaiting in anguish the incident that was bound to occur. They had brought the lampshade very low down so that the oil-clothed table covering alone was lit up. The guests engaged in the usual noisy, commonplace conversation that invariably preceded the first game of dominoes. Grave and Michaud did not fail to address the usual questions to the paralysed woman on the subject of her health and to give excellent answers to them as was their custom. For which, the company, without troubling any further about the poor old lady, plunged with delight into the game. Since Madame Raca had become aware of the horrible secret, she had been awaiting this evening with feverish impatience. She had gathered together all her remaining strength to denounce the culprits. Up to the last moment, she feared she would not be present at the gathering. She thought Loho would make her disappear, perhaps kill her, or at least shut her up in her own apartment. When she saw that her niece and nephew allowed her to remain in the dining-room, she experienced lively joy at the thought of attempting to avenge her son. Aware that her tongue was powerless, she resorted to a new kind of language. With astonishing power of will, she succeeded in a measure in galvanizing her right hand, in slightly raising it from her knee where it always lay stretched out inert. She then made it creep little by little up one of the legs of the table before her, and thus succeeded in placing it on the Orlkoff table-cover. Then she feebly agitated the fingers as if to attract attention. When the players perceived this lifeless hand, white and nervous before them, they were exceedingly surprised. Grive stopped short with his arm in the air at the moment when he was about to play the double-six. Since the impotent woman had been struck down, she had never moved her hands. Hey! Just look, Therese! cried Michaud. My name Raca is agitating her fingers. She probably wants something. Therese could not reply. Both she and Laurent had been following the exertion of the paralyzed woman, and she was now looking at the hand of her aunt, which stood out, one in the roll-light of the lamp, like an avenging hand that was about to speak. The two murderers waited, breathless. Of course, said Grive. She wants something. Oh! We thoroughly understand one another. She wants to play dominoes. Eh! Isn't it so, dear lady? Madame Raca made a violent sign indicating that she wanted nothing of the kind. She extended one finger, folded up the others with infinite difficulty, and began to painfully trace letters on the table-cover. She had barely indicated a stroke or two when Grive again exclaimed in triumph. I understand! She says I do right to play the double six. The impotent woman cast a terrible glance at the old clerk, and returned to the word she wished to write. But Grive interrupted her at every moment, declaring it was needless that he understood, and he then brought out some stupidity. Michaud, at last, made him hold his tongue. The juice! Alarm, Madame Raca, to speak, said he. Speak, my old friend, and he gazed at the earl-cloth table-cover as if he had been listening. But the fingers of the paralyzed woman were growing weary. They had begun the word more than ten times over, and now, in tracing this word, they wandered to right and left. Michaud and Olivier bent forward, and, being unable to read, forced the impotent old lady to resume the first letters. Ah! Oh! exclaimed Olivier all at once. I can read it this time. She has just written your name, Thérèse. Let me see. Thérèse, and complete the sentence, dear lady. Thérèse almost shrieked in anguish. She watched the finger of her aunt gliding over the earl-cloth, and it seemed to her that this finger traced her name and the confession of her crime in letters of fire. Laurent had risen violently, with half a mind to fling himself on the paralyzed woman and break her arm. When he saw this hand return to life to reveal the murder of Camille, he thought all was lost, and already felt the weight and fragility of the knife on the nape of his neck. Madame Hakkar still wrote, but in a manner that became more and more hesitating. This is perfect. I can read it very well indeed, resumed Olivier after an instant, and with his eyes on the married pair. Your aunt writes your two names. Thérèse and Laurent. The old lady made sign after sign in the affirmative, casting crushing glances on the murderers. Then she sought to complete the sentence, but her fingers had stiffened. The supreme will that galvanised them escaped her. She felt the paralysis slowly descending her arm, and again grasping her wrist. She hurried on, and traced another word. Un nicho read out in a loud voice. Thérèse and Laurent have, and Olivier inquired, What have your dear children? The murderers, seized with blind terror, were on the point of completing the sentence aloud. They contemplated the avenging hand with fixed and troubled eyes, when all at once this hand became convulsed and flattened out on the table. It slipped down and fell on the knee of the impotent woman like a lump of inanimate flesh and bone. The paralysis had returned and arrested the punishment. Michaud and Olivier sat down again, disappointed, while Thérèse and Laurent experienced such keen joy that they felt like fainting under the influence of the sudden rush of blood that beat in their bosoms. Grévé, who felt vexed at not having been believed on trust, thought the moment had arrived to regain his infallibility by completing the unfinished sentence. While everyone was endeavouring to supply the missing words, he exclaimed, It is quite clear I can read the whole phrase in the eyes of the lady. It is not necessary for her to write on the table to make me understand that me look suffices. She means to say, Thérèse and Laurent have been very kind to me. Grévé, on this occasion, had caused to be proud of his imagination for all the company of his opinion, and the guests began to sing the praises of the married couple who were so good for the poor lady. It is certain, old Michaud Gravely remarked, that Madame Maraquin wishes to bear testimony to the tender affection her children lavish on her, and this does honour to the whole family. Then, taking up his dominoes again, he added, Come, let us continue. Where were we? Grévé was about to play the double six, I think. Grévé played the double six, and the stupid, monotonous game went on. The paralysed woman, cut up by frightful despair, looked at her hand, which had just betrayed her. She felt it as heavy as lead now. Never would she be able to raise it again. Providence would not permit Camille to be avenged. It withdrew from his mother the only means she had of making known the crime to which she had fallen a victim, and the wretched woman said to herself that she was now only fit to go and join her child underground. She lowered her lids, feeling herself henceforth useless, and with the desire of imagining herself already in the darkness of the tomb. CHAPTER XXVIII For two months, Therese and Laurent had been struggling in the anguish of their union. One suffered through the other, then hatred slowly gained them, and they ended by casting angry glances at one another, full of secret menace. Hatred was forced to come. They had loved like brutes, with hot passion, entirely sanguineous. Then amidst the innervation of their crime, their love had turned to fright, and their kisses had produced a sort of physical terror. At present, amid the suffering which marriage, which life in common imposed on them, they revolted and flew into anger. It was a bitter hatred, with terrible outbursts. They felt they were in the way of one another, and both inwardly said that they would lead a tranquil existence where they not always face to face. When in presence of each other, it seemed as if an enormous weight were stifling them, and they would have liked to remove this weight, to destroy it. Their lips were pinched, thoughts of violence passed in their clear eyes, and a craving beset them to devour one another. In reality, one single thought tormented them. They were irritated at their crime, and in despair at having forever troubled their lives. Hence, all their anger and hatred. They felt the evil incurable, that they would suffer for the murder of Camilla until death, and this idea of perpetual suffering exasperated them. Of knowing whom to strike, they turned in hatred on one another. They would not openly admit that their marriage was the final punishment of the murder. They refused to listen to the inner voice that shouted out the truth to them, displaying the story of their life before their eyes. And yet, in the fits of rage that bestowed them, they both saw clearly to the bottom of their anger. They were aware it was the furious impulse of their egotistic nature that had urged them to murder in order to satisfy their desire, and that they had only found an assassination and afflicted an intolerable existence. They recollected the past. They knew that their mistaken hopes of lust and peaceful happiness had alone brought them to remorse. Had they been able to embrace one another in peace and live in joy, they would not have mourned Camilla. They would have fattened on their crime. But their bodies had rebelled, refusing our rich, and they inquired of themselves in terror where horror and disgust would lead them. They only perceived a future that would be horrible in pain, with a sinister and violent end. Then like two enemies bound together, and who were making violent efforts to release themselves from this forced embrace, they strained their muscles and nerves, stiffening their limbs without succeeding in releasing themselves. At last understanding that they would never be able to escape from their clasp, they were retated by the cords cutting into their flesh, disgusted at their contact, feeling their discomfort increase at every moment, forgetful, and unable to bear their bonds a moment longer. They addressed outrageous reproaches at one another in the hope of suffering loss, of addressing the wounds they inflicted on themselves by cursing and deafening each other with their shouts and accusations. A quarrel broke out every evening. It looked as though the murderers sought opportunities to become exasperated, so as to relax their rigid nerves. They watched one another, sounded one another with glances, examined the wounds of one another, discovering the raw parts, and taking keen pleasure in causing each other to yell in pain. They lived in constant irritation, weary of themselves, unable to support a word, a gesture, or a look without suffering and frenzy. Both their beings were prepared for violence, the least display of impatience, the most ordinary contrariety in their disordered organism, and all at once took the form of brutality. A mere nothing raised a storm that lasted until the morrow. A plate too warm, an open window, a denial, a simple observation, suffice to drive them into regular fits of madness. In the course of the discussion, they never failed to bring up the subject of the drowned man. From sentence to sentence, they came to mutual reproaches about this drowning business at St. Owen, casting the crime in the face of one another. They grew excited to the pitch of fury until one felt like murdering the other. Then ensued atrocious scenes of choking, blows, abominable cries, shameless brutalities. As a rule, Therese and Laurent became exasperated in this manner after the evening meal. They shut themselves up in the dining room so that the sound of their despair should not be heard. There they could devour one another at ease. At the end of this damp apartment of this sort of vault, light of the yellow beams of the lamp, the tone of their voices took harrowing sharpness amidst the silence and tranquility of the atmosphere. And they did not cease until exhausted with fatigue. Then only could they go and enjoy a few hours rest. Their quarrels became, in a measure, necessary to them, a means of procuring a few hours rest by stupefying their nerves. Madame Raquian listened. She never ceased to be there, in her armchair, her hands dangling on her knees, her head straight, her face mute. She heard everything, and not a shudder ran through her lifeless frame. Her eyes rested on the murderous with the most acute fixedness. Her martyrdom must have been atrocious. She thus learned, detail by detail, all the events that had preceded and followed the murder of Camille. Little by little, her ears became polluted with an account of the filth and crimes of those whom she had called her children. These quarrels of the married couple placed her in possession of the most minute circumstances connected with the murder and spread out, one by one, before her terrified mind, all the episodes of the horrible adventure. As she went deeper into this sanguinary filth, she pleaded in her mind for mercy at times. She fancied she was touching the bottom of the infamy, and still she had to descend lower. Each night she learned some new detail. The frightful story continued to expand before her. It seemed like being lost in an interminable dream of horror. The first avowal had been brutal and crushing, but she suffered more from these repeated blows, from these small facts which the husband and wife allowed to escape them in their fits of anger, and which lit up the crime with sinister rays. Once a day, this mother heard the account of the murder of her son, and each day this account became more horrifying, more complete with detail, and was shouted into her ears with greater cruelty and uproar. On one occasion, Therese taken aback with vermorese at the sight of this waned countenance, with great tears slowly coursing down its cheeks, pointed out around to Laurence, beseeching him with a look to hold his tongue. Well, what of it? Leave me alone, exclaimed the latter in a brutal tone. You know very well that she cannot give us up. Am I more happy than she is? We have her cash. I have no need to constrain myself. The quarrel continued, bitter and piercing, and camea was killed over again. Neither Therese nor Laurence dared give away to the thoughts of pity that sometimes came over them and chucked the paralyzed woman in her bedroom when they quarreled so as to spare her the story of the crime. They were afraid of beating one another to death if they failed to have the semi-corps between them. Their pity yielded to cowardice. They imposed ineffable sufferings on Madame Rakia because they required her presence to protect them against the hallucinations. All their disputes were alike and led to the same accusations. As soon as one of them accused the other of having killed this man, there came a frightful shock. One night at dinner, Laurence, who sought a text for becoming irritable, found that the water in the decanter was lukewarm. He declared that tepid water made him feel sick and that he wanted it fresh. I was unable to procure any ice. Therese answered, dryly. Very well. I will deprive myself of drinking, retorted Laurence. This water is excellent, said she. It is warm and has a muddy taste, he answered. It's like water from the river. Water from the river? repeated Therese, and she burst out sobbing. A juncture of ideas had just occurred in her mind. Why do you cry? asked Laurence, who foresaw the answer and turned pale. I cry, sobbed the young woman. I cry because you know why. Oh, great God, great God, it was you who killed him. You lie, shouted the murderer vehemently. Confess that you lie. If I threw him into the scene, it was you who urged me to commit the murder. I, I, she exclaimed. Yes, you. Don't act the ignorant, he replied. Don't compel me to force you to tell the truth. I want you to confess your crime, to take your share in the murder. It will tranquilize and relieve me. But I did not drown Camilla, she pleaded. Yes, you did, a thousand times, yes, he shouted. Oh, you faint astonishment and want of memory. Wait a moment, I will recall your recollections. Rising from table, he bent over the young woman and, with crimson countenance, yelled on her face. You were on the riverbank, you remember? And I set you in an undertone. I'm going to pitch him into the water. Then you agreed to it. You got into the boat. You see that we murdered him together. It is not true, she answered. I was crazy. I don't know what I did. But I never wanted to kill him. You alone committed the crime. These denials tortured Laurent. As he had said, the idea of having an accomplice relieved him. Had he dared, he would have attempted to prove to himself that all the horror of the murder fell upon Therese. He more than once felt inclined to beat the young woman. So as to make her confess that she was the more guilty of the two. He began striding up and down, shouting and raving, followed by the piercing eyes of Madame Rakhia. Ah, the wretch. The wretch, he stammered in a choking voice. She wants to drive me mad. Look, did you not come up to my room one evening? Did you not intoxicate me with your caresses to persuade me to rid you of your husband? You told me, when I visited you here, that he displeased you. That he had the order of a sickly child. Did I think of all this three years ago? Was I a rascal? I was leading the peaceful existence of an upright man, doing no harm to anybody. I would not have killed a fly. It was you who killed Camilla, repeated Therese, with such desperate obstinacy that she made Laurent lose his head. No, it was you. I say, it was you who retorted with a terrible burst of rage. Look here, don't exasperate me. Or if you do, you will suffer for it. What, you wretch? Have you forgotten everything? You who maddened me with the caresses confess that it was all a calculation in your mind that you hated Camilla, and that you had wanted to kill him for a long time. No doubt you took me as a sweetheart so as to drive me to put an end to him. It is not true, said she. What you relate is monstrous. You have no right to reproach me with my weakness towards you. I can speak in regard to you as you speak of me. Before I knew you, I was a good woman who never wronged a soul. If I drove you mad, it was you who made me madder still. Listen, Laurence, don't let a squirrel. I have too much to reproach you with. What can you reproach me with? He inquired. No, nothing, she answered. You did not save me from myself. You took advantage of my surrender. You chose to spoil my life. I forgive you all that. But in mercy, do not accuse me of killing Camilla. Keep your crime for yourself. Do not seek to make me more terrified than I am already. Laurence raised his hand to strike her in the face. You beat me, I prefer that, said she. I shall suffer less. And she advanced her head, but he restrained himself and taking a chair sat down beside her. Listen, he began in a voice that he endeavored to render calm. It is cowardly to refuse to take your share in the crime. You know perfectly well that as we did the deed together, you know you are as guilty as I am. Why do you want to make my load heavier by saying you are innocent? If you were so, you would not have consented to marry me. Just recall what passed during the two years following the murder. Do you want a proof? If so, I will go and relate everything to the public prosecutor and you will see whether we are not both condemned. They shuddered and Thorese resumed. Men may perhaps condemn me, but Camilla knows very well that you did everything. He does not torment me at night as he does you. Camilla leaves me in peace, said Laurence, pale and trembling. It is you who see him before you in your nightmares. I have heard you shout out. Don't say that, angrily exclaimed the young woman. I have never shouted out. I don't wish the specter to appear. Oh, I understand. You want to drive it away from yourself. I am innocent. I'm innocent. They looked at one another in terror, exhausted with fatigue, fearing they had evoked the corpse of the drowned man. Their quarrels invariably ended in this way. They protested their innocence. They sought to deceive themselves. So as to drive away their bad dreams, they made constant efforts, each in turn, to reject the responsibility of the crime, defending themselves as though they were before a judge and jury and accusing one another. The strangest part of this attitude was that they did not succeed in duping themselves by their oaths. Both had a perfect recollection of all the circumstances connected with the murder and their eyes about what their lips denied. Their falsehoods were purile. Their affirmations ridiculous. It was the wordy dispute of two wretched who lied for the sake of lying without succeeding in concealing from themselves that they did so. Each took the part of accuser in turn, and although the prosecution they instituted against one another proved barren of result, they began it again every evening with cruel tenacity. They were aware that they would prove nothing, that they would not succeed in effacing the past, and still they attempted this task. Still they returned to the charge, spurred on by pain and terror, vanquished in advance by overwhelming reality. The sole advantage they derived from their disputes consisted in producing a tempest of words and cries, and the riot occasioned in this manner momentarily deafened them. And all the time their anger lasted, all the time they were accusing one another, the paralysed woman never ceased to gaze at them. Argent joy sparkled in her eyes when Lawrence raised his broad hand above the head of the race. End of Chapter 28 Chapter 29 of Therese Rakhia This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Therese Rakhia by Emile Zola translated by Ernest Alfred V. Zatelli Chapter 29 Matters now took a different aspect. Therese, driven into a corner by fright, not knowing which way to turn for a consoling thought, began to weep aloud over the drowned man in the presence of Lawrence. She abruptly became depressed, her overstrained nerves relaxed, her unfeeling and violent nature softened. She had already felt compassionate in the early days of her second marriage and this feeling now returned as a necessary and fatal reaction. When the young woman had struggled with all her nervous energy against the specter of Camilla, when she had lived in sullen irritation for several months up in arms against her sufferings, seeking to get the better of them by efforts of will, she all at once experienced such extraordinary lassitude that she yielded, vanquished. Then, having become a woman again, even a little girl, no longer feeling the strength to stiffen herself, to stand feverishly erect before her terror, she plunged into pity, into tears and regret in the hope of finding some relief. She sought to reap advantage from her weakness of body and mind. Perhaps the drowned man who had not given way to her irritation would be more unbending to her tears. Her remorse was all calculation. She thought that this would no doubt be the best way to appease and satisfy Camilla. Like certain devotees who fancy they will deceive the Almighty and secure pardon by praying with their lips and assuming the humble attitude of penitence, she displayed humility, striking her chest, finding words of repentance without having anything at the bottom of her heart, save fear and cowardice. Besides, she experienced a sort of physical pleasure in giving way in this manner in feeling feeble and undone in abandoning herself to grief without resistance. She overwhelmed Madame Rakya with her tearful despair. The paralyzed woman became of daily use to her. She served as a sort of praying desk as a piece of furniture in front of which the race could fearlessly confess her faults and plead for forgiveness. As soon as she felt inclined to cry to divert herself by sobbing, she knelt before the impotent old lady and there, wailing and choking, performed to her alone a scene of remorse which weakened but relieved her. I am a wretch, she stammered. I deserve no mercy. I deceived you. I drove your son to his death. Never will you forgive me. I am rent by remorse. If you only knew how I suffer, perhaps you would have pity. No, no pity for me. I should like to die here at your feet overwhelmed by grief. She spoke in this manner for hours together, passing from despair to hope, condemning and then pardoning herself. She assumed the voice brief and plaintive in turn of a little sick girl. She flattened herself on the ground and drew herself up again, the voices of humility and pride of repentance and revolt that entered her head. Sometimes even, forgetting she was on her knees before Madame Rakya, she continued her monologue as in a dream. When she had made herself thoroughly giddy with her own words, she rose staggering and dazed to go down to the shop in a karma frame of mind no longer fearing to burst into sobs before her customers. When she again felt inclined for remorse, she ran upstairs and knelt at the feet of a potent woman. This scene was repeated ten times a day. The race never reflected that her tears and display of repentance must impose ineffable anguish on around. The truth was that if she had desired to invent a torment to torture Madame Rakya, it would not have been possible to have found a more frightful one than the comedy of remorse she performed before her. The paralyzed woman could see the egotism concealed beneath these effusions of grief. She suffered horribly from these long monologues, which she was compelled to listen to at every instant and which always brought the murder of Kamiya before her eyes. She could not pardon, she never departed from the implacable thought of vengeance that her impotency rendered more keen, and all day long she had to listen to pleas for pardon and to humble and cowardly prayers. She would have liked to give an answer. Certain sentences of her knees brought crushing refusals to her lips, but she had to remain mute in a lot of the race to plead her cause without once interrupting her. The impossibility of crying out and stopping her ears caused her inexpressible torture. The words of the young woman entered her mind slow and plaintive as an irritating ditty. At first she fancied the murderers inflicted this kind of torture on her out of sheer diabolical cruelty. Her sole means of defense was to close her eyes as soon as her knees knelt before her, then although she heard, she did not see her. The race at last had the impudence to kiss her aunt. One day in a fit of repentance, she feigned she had perceived a gleam of mercy in the eyes of the paralyzed woman, and she dragged herself along on her knees. She raised herself up, exclaiming in a distracted tone, you forgive me, you forgive me. Then she kissed the forehead and cheeks of the poor old creature who was unable to throw her head backward so as to avoid the embrace. The cold skin on which the race placed her violent disgust. She fancied this disgust like the tears of remorse would be an excellent remedy to appease her nerves and she continued to kiss the important old woman daily by way of penitence and also to relieve herself. Oh, how good you are! She sometimes exclaimed, I can see my tears have touched you, your eyes are full of pity, I am saved. Then she smothered her with carousels placing the head of the infirm old lady on her knees, kissing her hands and smiling at her happily and attending to all her requirements with the display of passionate affection. After a time she believed in the reality of this comedy, she imagined she had obtained the pardon of Madame Rakya and spoke of nothing but the delight she experienced at having secured her pardon. This was too much for the paralyzed woman. It almost killed her. At the kisses of her knees she again felt the sensation of bitter repugnance and rage which came over her to lift her up or lay her down. She was obliged to submit to the disgusting carousels of the wretch who had betrayed and killed her son. She could not even use her hands to wipe away the kisses that this woman left on her cheeks and for hours and hours together she felt these kisses burning her. She became the doll of the murderers of Kameer, a doll that they dressed, that they turned to right and left and that they made use of according to their requirements and whims. She remained inert in their hands as if she had been a lay figure and yet she lived and became excited and indignant at the least contact with Therese or Laurent. What particularly exasperated her was the atrocious mockery of the young woman who pretended she perceived expressions of mercy in her eyes when she would have liked to have brought down fire from heaven on the head of the criminal. She frequently made supreme efforts to utter a cry of protestation and loaded her looks with hatred but Therese who found it answered her purpose to repeat twenty times a day that she was pardoned, redoubled her caresses and would see nothing. So the paralyzed woman had to accept the thanks and effusions that her heart repelled. Henceforth she lived in a state of bitter but powerless irritation, face to face with her yielding knees who displayed adorable acts of tenderness to recompense her for what she termed her heavenly goodness. When Therese knelt before Madame Rakhia in the presence of her husband she brought her to her feet. No acting said he. Do I weep? Do I prostrate myself? You do all this to trouble me. The remorse of Therese cost him peculiar agitation. Her suffering increased now that his accomplice dragged herself about him with eyes red by weeping and supplicating lips. The sight of this living example of regret redoubled his fright and added to his uneasiness. It was like an everlasting reproach wandering through the house. When he feared that repentance would one day drive his wife to reveal everything, he would have preferred her to remain rigid and threatening bitterly defending herself against his accusations. But she had changed her tactics. She now readily recognized the share she had taken in the crime. She even accused herself. She had become yielding and timid and starting from this point implored redemption with ardent humility. This attitude irritated Laurent and every evening the quarrels of her daughter. Listen to me, said Therese to her husband. We are very guilty. We must repent if we wish to enjoy tranquility. Look at me. Since I have been weeping I am more peaceable. Imitate me. Let us say together that we are justly punished for having committed a horrible crime. Bah! roughly answered Laurent. You can say what you please. I know you are ducidly clever and hypocritical. Weep if that diverts you. But I must beg you not to worry me with your tears. Ah! said she. You are bad. You reject remorse. You are cowardly. You acted as a traitor to come here. Do you mean to say that I alone am guilty? He inquired. No. She replied. I do not say that. I am guilty. More guilty than you are. I ought to have saved my husband from your hands. Oh! I am aware of all the horror of my fault. But I have sought pardon and I have succeeded, Laurent. Whereas you continue to lead a disconsolate life. You have not even had the feeling to spare my poor aunt of vile anger. You have never even addressed a word of regret to her. And she embraced Madame Rakyan who shut her eyes. She hovered round her, raising the pillow that propped up her head and showing her all kinds of attention. Laurent was infuriated. Oh! leave her alone! he cried. Can't you see that your services in the very sight of your audience to her? If she could lift her hand she would slap your face. The slow and plaintive words of his wife and her attitudes of the nation gradually drove him into blinding fits of anger. He understood her tactics. She no longer wished to be at one with him, but to set herself apart wrapped in a regret so as to escape the clasp of the drowned man. And at moments he said to himself that she had perhaps taken the right path. The tears might cure her of her terror and he shuddered at the thought of having to suffer and content with fright alone. He also would have liked to repent or at least a body of repentance to see what effect it would have. Unable to find the sobs and necessary words, he flung himself into violence again, stirring up the race so as to rotate her and lead her back with him to furious madness. But the young woman took care to remain inert, to answer his cries of anger by tearful submission and to meet his coarseness by a proportionate display of humility and repentance. Laurent was thus gradually driven to fury. To crown his irritation, the race always managed Iric of Camille so as to display the virtues of the victim. He was good, said she, and we must have been very cruel to a zeal such a warm hearted man who had never a bad thought. He was good, yes, I know, jeered Laurent. You mean to say he was a fool. You must have forgotten. You pretended you were irritated at the slightest thing he said that he could not open his mouth without letting out some stupidity. Don't jeer, said the race. It only remains for you to insult the man you murdered. You know nothing about the feelings of a woman, Laurent. Camille loved me and I loved him. You loved him? Ha! Really, what a capital idea, exclaimed Laurent. And no doubt it was because you loved your husband that you took me as a sweetheart. I remember one day when we were together that you told me Camille disgusted you when you felt the end of your fingers enter his flesh as if it were soft clay. Oh, I know why you loved me. You required more vigorous arms of that poor devil. I loved him as a sister, answered the race. He was a son of my benefactress. He had all the delicate feelings of a feeble man. He showed himself noble and generous, serviceable and loving. And we killed him. Good God! Good God! She wept and swooned away. Madame Raquian cast piercing glances at her, indignant to hear the praise of Camille sung by such a pair of lips. Laurent, who was unable to do anything against this overflow of tears walked to and fro with furious strides, searching in his head for some means to strifle the remorse of the race. All the good he heard said of his victim ended by coughing him poignant anxiety. Now and again he let himself be caught by the heart-rending accents of his wife. He really believed in the virtues of Camille and his terror redoubled. But what tried his patience beyond measure was a comparison that the widow of the drowned man never failed to draw between her first and second husband and which was all to the advantage of the former. Well, yes, she cried. He was better than you. I would sooner he were alive now and you in his place underground. Laurent first of all shrugged his shoulders. Say what you will, she continued becoming animated. Although I perhaps failed to love him in his lifetime, yet I remember all his good qualities now and do love him. Yes, I love him and hate you. Do you hear? For you are an assassin. Will you hold your tongue? Yelled Laurent. And he is a victim, she went on notwithstanding the threatening attitude of her husband and a bright man killed by a rascal. Oh, I am not afraid of you. You know well enough that you are a miserable wretch, a brute of a man without a heart and without a soul. How can you expect me to love you now that you are reeking with the blood of Camille? Camille was full of tenderness for me and I would kill you, do you hear if that could bring him to life again and give me back his love. Will you hold your tongue, you wretch? shouted Laurent. Why should I hold my tongue? she retorted. I am speaking the truth. I would purchase forgiveness at the price of your blood. Ah, how I weep and how I suffer it is my own fault if a scoundrel such as you murdered my husband I must go one of these nights and kiss the ground where he rests. That will be my final rapture. Laurent, beside himself, rendered furious by the atrocious pictures that the race spread out before his eyes on her and threw her down menacing her with this uplifted fist. That said, she cried strike me, kill me, Camille never once raised his hand to me but you are a monster. And Laurent spurred on by what she said shook her with rage, beat her, bruised her body with this clenched fists. In two instances he almost strangled her. The race yielded to his blouse she experienced keen delight in being struck delivering herself up thrusting her body forward provoking her husband in every way so that he might half kill her again. This was another remedy for his suffering. She slept better at night when she had been thoroughly beaten in the evening. Madame Rakia enjoyed exquisite pleasure when Laurent dragged her knees along the floor in this way belaboring her with thumps and kicks. The existence of the assassin had become terrible since the day when the race conceived the infernal idea of feeling remorse and of mourning Camille allowed. From that moment the wretch lived everlastingly with his victim. At every hour he had to listen to his wife praising and regretting her first husband. The least incident became a pretext Camille did this, Camille did that Camille had such and such qualities Camille loved in such and such a way. It was always Camille ever sad remarks bewailing his death. The race had recourse to all her spitefulness to render this torture which she inflicted on Laurent so as to shield her own self as cruel as possible. She went into details relating a thousand insignificant incidents connected with her youth accompanied by sighs and expressions of regret and in this manner mingled the remembrance of the drowned man with every action of her daily life. The corpse which had already haunted the house was introduced there openly. It sat on the chairs took its place at table extended itself on the bed making use of the various articles of furniture and of the objects lying about hither and thither. Laurent could touch nothing, not a fork, not a brush without the race making him feel that Camille had touched it before him. The murderer being ceaselessly thrust so as to say against the man he had killed ended by experiencing a strange sensation that very nearly drove him out of his mind by being so constantly compared to Camille by making use of the different articles Camille had used he imagined he was Camille himself that he was identical with his victim then with his brain fit to burst he blew at his wife to make her hold her tongue so as to no longer hear the words that drove him frantic all their quarrels now ended in blows. End of Chapter 29 Chapter 30 of Therese Racken This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Reading by Bologna Times Therese Racken by Amil Zola translated by Ernest Alfred Vistelli Chapter 30 A time came when Madame Racken in order to escape the sufferings she endured thought of starving herself to death she had reached the end of her courage she could no longer support the martyrdom that the presence of the two murderers imposed on her she longed to find supreme relief in death each day her anguish grew more keen when Therese embraced her and when Laurent took her in his arms to carry her along like a child she determined on freeing herself from these clasps and caresses that caused her such horrible disgust as she had not sufficient life left within her to permit of her avenging her son she preferred to be entirely dead and to leave not in the hands of the assassins but a corpse that could feel nothing and with which they could do as they pleased for two days she refused all nourishment employing her remaining strength to clench her teeth or to eject anything that Therese succeeded in introducing into her mouth Therese was in despair she was asking herself at the foot of which post she should go to weep and repent when her aunt would be no longer there she kept up an interminable discourse to prove to Madame Raquin that she should live she wept she even became angry bursting into her former fits of rage opening the jaw of the paralyzed woman as you open that of an animal which resists Madame Raquin held out and an odious scene ensued Laurent remained absolutely neutral and indifferent he was astonished at the efforts of Therese to prevent the impotent old woman committing suicide now that the presence of the old lady had become useless to them he desired her death he would not have killed her but as she wished to die he did not see the use of her soul but let her be he shouted to his wife it will be a good riddance we shall perhaps be happier when she is no longer here this remark repeated several times in the hearing of Madame Raquin caused her extraordinary emotion she feared that the hope expressed by Laurent might be realized and that after her death the couple would enjoy darkness and she said to herself that it would be cowardly to die that she had no right to go away before she had seen the end of the sinister adventure then only could she descend into darkness to say to Camille you are avenged the idea of suicide became oppressive when she all at once reflected that she would sink into the grave of the two murderers of her son there she would lie in the cold and silent earth eternally tormented by uncertainty concerning the punishment of her tormentors to thoroughly enjoy the slumber of death she must be hushed to rest by the sweet delight of vengeance she must carry away with her a dream of satisfied hatred a dream that would last throughout eternity her niece presented to her and consented to live on apart from this it was easy for her to perceive that the climax could not be far off each day the position of the married couple became more strained and unbearable a crash that would smash everything was imminent at every moment Therese and Laurent started up face to face in a more threatening manner it was no longer at night time alone that they suffered from their intimacy entire days were passed amidst anxiety and harrowing shocks it was one constant scene of pain and terror they lived in a perfect pandemonium fighting rendering all they did and said bitter and cruel seeking to fling one another to the bottom of the abyss which they felt beneath their feet and falling into it together ideas of separation had indeed occurred to both of them each had thought of flight of seeking some repose far from this arcade of the Pont Neuf where the damp and filth seemed adapted to their desolated life but they dared not they could not run away it seemed impossible for them to avoid reviling each other to avoid remaining there to suffer and cause pain they proved obstinate in their hatred and cruelty a sort of repulsion and attraction separated and kept them together at the same time they behaved in the identical manner of two persons who after quarreling wished to part and who nevertheless continued returning to shout out fresh insults at one another moreover material obstacles stood in the way of flight what were they to do with the impotent woman what could be said to the Thursday evening guests if they fled these people would perhaps suspect something at this thought they imagined they were being pursued and dragged to the guillotine so they remained where they were through cowardice wretchedly dragging out their lives amidst the horror of their surroundings during the morning and afternoon when Laurent was absent Therese went from the dining-room to the shop in anxiety and trouble at a loss to know what to do to fill up the void in her existence that daily became more pronounced were not kneeling at the feet of Madame Raquen or receiving blows and insults from her husband she had no occupation as soon as she was seated alone in the shop she became dejected watching with a daltish expression the people passing through the dirty dark gallery she felt ready to die of sadness in the middle of this gloomy vault which had the odor of a cemetery and ended by begging Suzanne to come and pass entire days with her in the hope that the presence of this poor, gentle pale creature might calm her Suzanne accepted her offer with delight she continued to feel a sort of respectful friendship for Therese and had long desire to come and work with her while Olivier was at his office bringing her embroidery with her she took the vacant chair of Madame Raquen behind the counter from that day Therese rather neglected her aunt she went upstairs less frequently to weep on her knees and kiss the deathlike face of the invalid she had something else to do she made efforts to listen with interest to the delatory gossip of Suzanne who spoke of her home the trivialities of her monotonous life this relieved Therese of her own thoughts sometimes she caught herself paying attention to nonsense that brought a bitter smile to her face by degrees she lost all her customers since her aunt had been confined to her armchair upstairs she had let the shop go from bad to worse abandoning the goods to dust and damp a smell of mildew spiders came down from the ceiling the floor was but rarely swept but what put the customers to flight was the strange way in which Therese sometimes welcomed them when she happened to be upstairs receiving blows from Laurent or agitated by a shock of terror and the bell at the shop door tinkled imperiously she had to go down barely taking time to do up her hair or brush away the tears on such occasions she served the persons awaiting her roughly sometimes she even spared herself the trouble of serving answering from the top of the staircase that she no longer kept what was asked for this kind of offhand behavior was not calculated to retain custom the little work girls of the quarter who were used to the sweet amiability of Madame Requin were driven away by the harshness and wild looks Therese when the latter took Suzanne with her to keep her company the defection became complete to avoid being disturbed in their gossip the two young women managed to drive away the few remaining purchasers who visited the shop henceforth the mercenary business ceased to bring in a sue towards the household expenses and it became necessary to encroach on the capital of 40,000 francs and more sometimes Therese absented herself the entire afternoon no one knew where she went her reason for having Suzanne with her was no doubt partly for the purpose of securing company but also to mine the shop while she was away when she returned in the evening worn out her eyelids heavy with exhaustion it was to find the little wife of Olivier still behind the counter bowed down with a vague smile on her lips in the same attitude as she had left her five hours previously Therese had a bad fright about five months after her marriage to Laurent she found out she was pregnant and detested the thought of having a child of Laurent she had the fear that she would give birth to a drowned body she thought that she could feel inside herself a soft decomposing corpse no matter what she had to rid herself of this child she did not tell Laurent one day she cruelly provoked him and turned her stomach towards him hoping to receive a kick he kicked her and she let him go on kicking her in the stomach until she thought she would die the next day her wish was fulfilled and she had a miscarriage Laurent also led a frightful existence the days seemed insupportably long each brought the same anguish the same heavy wariness which overwhelmed him at certain hours with crushing monotony and regularity he dragged on his life terrified every night by the recollections of the day and the expectation of the morrow he knew that henceforth all his days would resemble one another and bring him equal suffering and he saw the weeks months and years gloomily and implacably awaiting him coming one after the other to fall upon him and gradually smother him when there is no hope in the future the present appears atrociously bitter Laurent no longer resisted he became lumpish abandoning himself to the nothingness that was already gaining possession of his being idleness was killing him in the morning he went out without knowing where to go knowing what he had done on the previous day and compelled in spite of himself to do it again he went to his studio by habit by mania this room with its gray walls whence he could see not but a bare square of sky filled him with mournful sadness he groveled on the divan heavy in thought and with pendant arms he dared not touch a brush he had made fresh attempts at painting but only to find each occasion the head of Camille appeared jeering on the canvas so as not to go out of his mind he ended by throwing his color box into a corner and imposing the most absolute idleness on himself this obligatory laziness weighed upon him terribly in the afternoon he questioned himself in distress to find out what he should do for half an hour he remained in the Rue Mazarin thinking and hesitating as to how he could divert himself he rejected the idea of returning to the studio and invariably decided on going down the Rue Gwingo to walk along the quays and until evening he went along dazed and seized with sudden shutters whenever he looked at the scene whether in his studio or in the streets his dejection was the same the following day he began again he passed the morning on his divan and dragged himself along the quays in the afternoon this lasted for months and might last for years occasionally Laurent reflected that he had killed Camille so as to do nothing ever afterwards and now that he did nothing he was quite astonished to suffer so much he would have liked to force himself to be happy he proved to his own satisfaction that he did wrong to suffer that he had just attained supreme felicity consisting in crossing his arms and that he was an idiot not to enjoy this bliss and peace but his reasoning exploded in the face of facts he was constrained to confess at the bottom of his heart that this idleness rendered his anguish the more cruel by leaving him every hour of his life in the despair and deepen its incurable bitterness laziness that brutish existence which had been his dream proved his punishment at moments he ordently hoped for some occupation to draw him from his thoughts then he lost all energy relapsing beneath the weight of implacable fatality that bound his limbs so as to more surely crush him with, he only found some relief when beating Terris at night this brutality alone relieved him of his innervated anguish but his keenest suffering both physical and moral came from the bite Camille had given him in the neck at certain moments he imagined that this scar covered the whole of his body if he came to forget the past he all at once fancied he felt a burning puncture of murder both to his frame and mind when under the influence of emotion he could not stand before a looking glass without noticing this phenomenon which he had so frequently remarked and which always terrified him the blood flew to his neck purpling the scar which then began to gnaw the skin this sort of wound that lived upon him which became active, flushed and biting at the slightest trouble frightened and tortured him he ended by believing that the teeth of the drowned man had planted an insect there which was devouring him the part of his neck where the scar appeared seemed to him to no longer belong to his body it was like foreign flesh that had been stuck in this place a piece of poisoned meat that was rotting his own muscles in this manner he carried the living and devouring recollection of his crime about him with him everywhere when he beat Therese she endeavored to scratch the spot and sometimes dug her nails into it making him howl with pain she generally pretended to sob as soon as she caught sight of the bite so as to make it more insufferable to Laurent all her revenge for his brutality consisted in murderizing him in connection with this bite while shaving he had frequently been tempted to give himself a gash in the neck so as to make the marks of the teeth of the drowned man disappear when standing before the mirror he raised his chin and perceived the red spot beneath the white lather he had once flew into a rage and rapidly brought the razor to his neck to cut right into the flesh but the sensations of the cold steel against his skin always brought him to his senses and caused him to feel so faint that he was obliged to seat himself and wait until he had recovered sufficient courage to continue shaving he only issued from his torpor at night to fall into blind and purile fits of anger when tired of quarreling with Therese and beating her he would kick the walls like a child and look for something he could break this relieved him he had a particular dislike for the tabby cat François who, as soon as he appeared sought refuge on the knees of Madame Requin if Laurent had not yet killed the animal it was because he dared not take hold of him the cat looked at him with great round eyes that were diabolical in their fixedness he wondered what these eyes which never left him wanted and he ended by having regular fits of terror and imagining all sorts of ridiculous things when a table, at no matter what moment in the middle of a quarrel or of a long silence he happened, all at once to look round and perceive François examining him with a harsh, implacable stare he turned pale and lost his head he was on the point of saying to the cat hey, why don't you speak tell me what it is you want with me when he could crush his paw or tail he did so in affrighted joy the meowing of the poor creature giving him vague terror as though he heard a human cry of pain Laurent in fact was afraid of François particularly since the latter passed his time on the knees of the impotent old lady as if in the center of an impregnable fortress once he could with impunity set his eyes on his enemy the murderer of Camille established a vague resemblance between this irritated animal and the paralyzed woman saying to himself that the cat like Madame Raquin must know about the crime and would denounce him if he ever found a tongue at last one night François looked at Laurent so fixedly that the latter, irritated to the last pitch made up his mind to put an end to the annoyance he threw the window of the dining-room wide open and advancing to where the cat was seated grasped him by the skin at the back of the neck Madame Raquin understood and two big tears rolled down her cheeks the cat began to swear and stiffen himself endeavoring to turn round and bite the hand that grasped him but Laurent held fast he whirled the cat round two or three times in the air and then sent him flying with all the strength of his arm against the great dark wall opposite François went flat against it and breaking his spine fell upon the glass roof of the arcade all night the wretched beast dragged himself along the gutter mewing horsely while Madame Raquin wept over him almost as much as she had done over Camille Therese had an atrocious attack of hysterics while the wailing of the cat sounded sinisterly in the gloom below the windows Laurent soon had further cause for anxiety he became alarmed at a certain change he observed in the attitude of his wife Therese became somber and taciturn she no longer lavished effusions of repentance and grateful kisses on Madame Raquin in presence of the paralyzed woman she resumed her manner of frigid cruelty and egotistic indifference it seemed as though she had tried remorse and finding no relief had turned her attention to another remedy her sadness was no doubt due to her inability to calm her life she observed the impotent old woman with a kind of disdain as a useless thing that could no longer even serve her for consolation she now only bestowed on her the necessary attention to prevent her dying of hunger from this moment she dragged herself about the house in silence and dejection she multiplied her absences from the shop going out as frequently as three and four times a week it was this change in her mode of life that surprised and alarmed Laurent he fancied that her remorse had taken another form and was now displayed by this mournful weariness he noticed in her this weariness seemed to him more alarming than the chattering despair she had overwhelmed him with previously she no longer spoke she no longer quarreled with him she seemed to consign everything to the depths of her being he would rather have hurt her exhausting her endurance than see her keep in this manner to herself he feared that one day she would be choking with anguish and to obtain relief would go and relate everything to a priest or an examining magistrate then these numerous absences of Therese frightful significance in his eyes he thought she went to find a confident outside that she was preparing her treason on two occasions he tried to follow her and lost her in the streets he then prepared to watch her again a fixed idea got into his head Therese, driven to extremities by suffering was about to make disclosures and he must gag her he must arrest her confession in her throat CHAPTER XXXI One morning, Larong, instead of going to his studio took up a position at a wine-shop situated at one of the corners of the Rue Guingot opposite the studio from there he began to examine the persons who issued from the passage onto the pavement of the Rue Mazarin he was watching for Therese the previous evening the young woman had mentioned that she intended going out next day and probably would not be home until evening Larong waited fully half an hour but his wife always went by the Rue Mazarin nevertheless, at one moment he remembered that she might escape him by taking the Rue Desain and he thought of returning to the arcade and concealing himself in the corridor of the house but he determined to retain his seat a little longer and just as he was growing impatient he suddenly saw Therese coming rapidly from the passage she wore a light gown and for the first time he noticed a tire appeared remarkably showy like a street walker she twisted her body about on the pavement staring provokingly at the men who came along and raising her skirt which she clutched in a bunch in her hand much higher than any respectable woman would have done in order to display her lace-up boots and stockings as she went up the Rue Mazarin Larong followed her it was mild weather but the woman walked slowly with her head thrown slightly backward and her hair streaming down her back the men who had first of all stared her in the face turned round to take a back view she passed into the Rue des Lacroles des Medicines Larong was terrified he knew that somewhere in this neighborhood was a commissariat of police and he said to himself that there could no longer be any doubt as to the intentions of his wife she was certainly about to denounce him then he made up his mind to rush after her if she crossed the threshold of the commissariat to implore her to beat her if necessary so as to compel her to hold her tongue at a street corner she looked at a policeman who came along and Larong trembled with fright lest she should stop and speak to him in terror of being arrested on the spot if he showed himself he hid in a door-wag this excursion proved perfect agony while his wife bathed in the sun on the pavement trailing her skirt with nausea and impudence shameless and unconcerned he followed behind her pale and shuttering repeating that it was all over that he would be unable to save himself and would be guillotined each step he saw her take seemed to him a step nearer punishment fright gave him a sort of blind conviction and the slightest movement of the young woman added to his certainty he followed her he went where she went as a man goes to the scaffold suddenly on reaching the former Placem Michel Therese advanced towards a café that then formed the corner of the room Monsieur Le Prun there she seated herself in the centre of a group of women and students at one of the tables on the pavement and familiarly shook hands with all this little crowd then she called for absinthe she seemed quite at ease chatting with a fair young man who no doubt had been waiting for her some time two girls came and leaned over the table where she sat addressing her affectionately in their husky voices around her women were smoking cigarettes men were embracing women in the open street before the passersby who never even turned their heads low words and horse laughter reached Laurent who remained motionless in a doorway on the opposite side of the street when Therese had finished her absinthe she rose and leaning on the arm of the fair young man went down the Rue de la Harpe Laurent followed them as far as the Rue Saint D'Andre de Art where he noticed them entering a lodging-house he remained in the middle of the street with his eyes on the front of the building presently his wife showed herself for an instant at an open window on the second floor and he fancied he perceived the hands of the pale young man encircling her waist then the window closed with a sharp clang Laurent understood without waiting a moment longer he tranquilly took himself off reassured and happy ba! he said to himself as he went towards the quays it's better after all that she should have a sweetheart that will occupy her mind and prevent her thinking of injuring me she's ducidly more clever than I am what astonished him was that he had not been the first to think of plunging into vice which might have driven away his terror but his thoughts had never turned in that direction and moreover he had not the least inclination for riotous living the infidelity of his wife did not trouble him at least he felt no anger at the knowledge that she was in the arms of another man on the contrary he seemed to enjoy the idea he began to think that he had been following the wife of a comrade and laughed at the cunning trick the woman was playing her husband Therese had become such a stranger to him that he no longer felt her alive in his heart he would have sold her, bound, handed and foot a hundred times over to purchase calm for a one hour as he sauntered along he enjoyed the sudden delightful reaction that had just brought him from terror to peace he almost thanked his wife for having gone to a sweetheart when he thought her on her way to a commissary of police this adventure had come to an unforeseen end that agreeably surprised him it distinctly showed him that he had done wrong to tremble and that he in his turn should try vice in order to see whether such a course would not relieve him by diverting his thoughts on returning to the shop in the evening Laurent decided that he would ask his wife for a few thousand francs and that he would resort to high-handed measures to obtain them reflection told him that vice would be an expensive thing for a man he patiently awaited Therese who had not yet come in when she arrived he affected gentleness and refrained from breathing a word about having followed her in the morning she was slightly tipsy and from her ill-adjusted garments came that unpleasant odor of tobacco and spirits that is met with in-public drinking-places completely exhausted and with cheeks as pale as death she advanced at an unsteady gate and with a head quite heavy shameless fatigue of the day the dinner passed in silence Therese ate nothing at dessert Laurent placed his elbows on the table and flatly asked her for five thousand francs no she answered dryly if I were to give you a free hand you'd bring us to beggary aren't you aware of our position we are going as fast as ever we can to the dogs that may be he quietly resumed I intend to have money no a thousand times no she retorted you left your place the mercenary business is in a very bad way and the revenue from my marriage portion is not sufficient to maintain us every day I encroach on the principal to feed you and give you the one hundred francs a month you rung for me you will not get anything beyond that do you understand so it's no use asking just reflect replied and don't be so silly as to refuse I tell you I mean to have five thousand francs and I shall have them you'll give them me in spite of all this quiet termination irritated Therese and put the finishing touch to her intoxication ah I know what it is she cried you want to finish as you began we have been keeping you for four years you only came to us to eat and drink and since then you've been at our charge Monsieur does nothing Monsieur has arranged so as to live at my expense with his arms folded one over the other no you shall have nothing not a sous do you want me to tell you what you are well then you are a and she pronounced the word Laurent began to laugh shrugging his shoulders he merely replied you learned some pretty expressions in the company you keep now this was the only illusion he ventured to make to the love affairs of Therese she quickly raised her head and bitterly replied anyhow I don't keep the company of murderers Laurent became very pale and for a moment remained silent with his eyes fixed on his wife then in a trembling voice he resumed listen my girl don't let us get angry there is no good in that neither for you nor me I've lost all courage we have better come to an understanding if we wish to avoid a misfortune if I ask you for 5,000 francs it is because I want them and I will even tell you what I intend to do with them so as to ensure our tranquility he gave her a peculiar smile and continued come reflect let me have your last word I have thoroughly made up my mind answered the young woman and it is as I have told you you shall not have a sue her husband rose violently she was afraid of being beaten she crouched down determined not to give way to blows but Laurent did not even approach her he confined himself to telling her in a frigid tone that he was tired of life and was about to relate the story of the murder to the commissary of police you drive me to extremes said he you make my life unbearable I prefer to have done with it we shall both be tried and condemned and there will be an end to it all do you think you'll frighten me? shouted his wife I am as weary as you are I'll go to the commissary I'll police myself if you don't ah indeed I am quite ready to follow you to the scaffold I'm not a coward like you come along come along with me to the commissary she had risen and was making her way to the staircase that's it stammered Laurent let's go together when they were down in the shop they looked at one another anxious and alarmed it seemed as though they were riveted to the ground the few seconds they had taken to run downstairs had suffered to show them as in a flash all the consequences of a confession they saw at the same moment suddenly and distinctly gendarmes prison assies court and guillotine this made them feel faint and they were tempted to throw themselves on their knees one before the other to implore one another to remain and reveal nothing fright and embarrassment kept them motionless and mute for two or three minutes Therese was the first to make up her mind to speak and give way after all, said she I am a great fool to quarrel with you about this money you will succeed in getting hold of it and squandering it one day or another I may just as well give it to you at once she did not seek to conceal her defeat any further she seated herself at the counter and signed a check for five thousand francs which Laurent was to present to her backer there was no more question of the commissary of police that evening as soon as Laurent had the gold in his pocket he began to lead a riotous life drinking to excess and frequenting women of ill repute he slept all day and stayed out all night in search of violent emotions that would relieve him of reality but he only succeeded in becoming more oppressed than before when the company were shouting around him he heard the great terrible silence within him when one of his lady loves kissed him when he drained his glass he found not at the bottom of his satiety but heavy sadness he was no longer a man for lust and gluttony he chilled being as if inwardly rigid became innervated at the kisses and feasts feeling disgusted beforehand they failed to arouse his imagination or to excite his senses and stomach he suffered a little more by forcing himself disillusioned mode of life and that was all then when he returned home when he saw Madame Requin and Therese again his wariness brought on frightful fits of terror and he vowed he would leave the house no more that he would put up with his suffering so as to become accustomed to it and be able to conquer it for a month Therese lived, like Laurent on the pavement and in the cafés she returned daily for a moment in the evening to feed Madame Requin and put her to bed and then disappeared again until the morrow she and her husband on one occasion were four days without setting eyes on each other at last she experienced profound disgust at the life she was leading feeling that vice succeeded no better with her than the comedy of remorse in vain had she dragged through all the lodging-houses in the Latin quarter in vain had she led a low, riotous life her nerves were ruined debauchery ceased to give her a sufficiently violent shock to render her oblivious of the past she resembled one of those drunkards whose scorched pallets remain insensible to the most violent spirits she had done with lust and the society of her paramours only worried and wearied her then she quitted them as useless she now fell a prey to despondent idleness which kept her at home in a dirty petticoat with hair uncombed and face and hands unwashed she neglected everything and lived in filth when the two murderers came together again face to face in this manner after having done their best to get away from each other they understood that they would no longer have strength to struggle debauchery had rejected them it had just cast them back to their anguish once more they were in the dark damp lodging in the arcade and henceforth were as if imprisoned there for although they had often attempted to save themselves never had they been able to sever the sanguinary bond attaching them they did not even think of attempting a task they regarded as impossible they found themselves so urged on so overwhelmed so securely fastened together by events that they were conscious all resistance would be ridiculous they resumed their life in common but their hatred became furious rage the quarrels at night began again but for that matter the blows and cries lasted all day long to hatred distrust was now added and distrust put the finishing touch to their folly they were afraid of each other the scene that had followed the demand for five thousand francs was repeated morning and night they had the fixed idea that they wanted to give one another up from that standpoint they did not depart when either of them said a word or made a gesture the other imagined that he or she as the case might be intended to go to the commissary of police then they either fought or implored one another to do nothing in their anger they shouted out that they would run and reveal everything and terrified each other to death after this they shuttered they humbled themselves and promised with bitter tears to maintain silence they suffered most horribly but had not the courage to cure themselves by placing a red-hot iron on the wound if they threatened one another to confess the crime it was merely to strike terror into each other and drive away the thought for they would never have had strength to speak and seek peace in punishment on more than twenty occasions they went as far as the door of the commissary of police one following the other now it was Laurent who wanted to confess the murder now to race who ran to give herself up but they met in the street and always decided to wait after an interchange of insults and ardent prayers every fresh attack made them more suspicious and ferocious than before from morning till night they were spying upon one another Laurent barely set his foot outside the lodging in the arcade and if perchance he did absent himself Therese never failed to accompany him their suspicions, their fright lest either should confess brought them together united them in atrocious intimacy never since their marriage had they lived so tightly tied together and never had they experienced such suffering but not withstanding the anguish they imposed on themselves they never took their eyes off one another they preferred to endure the most excruciating pain rather than separate for an hour if Therese went down to the shop Laurent followed afraid that she might talk to a customer if Laurent stood in the doorway observing the people passing through the arcade Therese placed herself beside him to see that he did not speak to anyone when the guests were assembled on Thursday evenings the murderers addressed supplicating glances to each other listening to one another in terror one accomplice expecting the other to make some confession and giving an involving interpretation to sentences only just commenced such a state of warfare could not continue any longer Therese and Laurent had both reached the point of pondering on the advisability of extricating themselves from the consequences of their first crime by committing a second it became absolutely necessary that one of them should disappear so that the other might enjoy some repose this reflection came to them both at the same time both felt the urgent necessity for a separation and both desired that it should be eternal the murder that now occurred to their minds seemed to them natural fatal and forcibly brought about by the murder of Camille they did not even turn the matter over in their heads but welcomed the idea as the only means of safety Laurent determined he would kill Therese because she stood in his way because she might ruin him by a word and because she caused him unbearable suffering Therese made up her mind that she would kill Laurent for the same reasons the firm resolution to commit another murder somewhat calmed them they formed their plans but in that respect they acted with feverish excitement and without any display of excessive prudence they only thought vaguely of the probable consequences of a murder committed without flight and immunity being insured they felt the invincible necessity to kill one another and yielded to this necessity like furious brutes they would not have exposed themselves for the first crime they had so cleverly concealed and yet they risked the guillotine in committing a second which they did not even attempt to hide here was a contradiction in their conduct that they never so much as caught sight of both simply said to themselves that if they succeeded in fleeing they would go and live abroad taking all the cash with them Therese, a fortnight of three weeks before had drawn from the bank the few thousand francs left remained of her marriage portion and kept them locked up in a drawer a circumstance that had not escaped Laurent the fate of Madame Raquenne did not trouble them an instant a few weeks previously Laurent had met one of his old college friends now acting as dispenser to a famous chemist who gave considerable attention to toxicology this friend had shown him over the laboratory where he worked pointing out to him the apparatus and the drugs one night after he had made up his mind in regard to the murder and as Therese was drinking a glass of sugar and water before him Laurent remembered that he had seen in this laboratory a small stoneware flagon containing prussic acid and that the young dispenser had spoken to him of the terrible effects of this poison which strikes the victim down with sudden death leaving but few traces behind and Laurent said to himself that this was the poison he required on the morrow succeeding in escaping the vigilance of Therese he paid his friend a visit and while he had his back turned stole the small stoneware flagon the same day Therese took advantage of the absence of Laurent to send the large kitchen knife with which they were in the habit of breaking the loaf sugar and which was very much notched to be sharpened when it came back she hid it in a corner of the sideboard