Julien walked as in a nightmare. When he recognized Colombel on the bed,
he was not astonished,--it seemed quite natural. Yes, no one but
Colombel could be in that alcove, his temple indented, his limbs spread
out in an attitude of revolting lewdness.
Meanwhile, Therese was speaking to him. He did not hear at first; the
words flowed through his stupor with a confused sound. Then, he
understood that she was giving him orders, and he listened. Now, he must
not leave the room; he must remain until midnight,--until the house grew
dark and quiet. The party that the marquis was giving would prevent
their doing anything sooner. But, in a way, it acted in their favor, for
it so occupied everybody's attention that no one would think of coming
up to the young girl's room. At the proper time, Julien was to take the
body on his back, carry it down and throw it into the Chanteclair, at
the bottom of Beau-Soleil Street Therese explained the whole plan.
She ceased talking, and, placing her hands on the young man's shoulders,
she asked:--
"You understand,--is it agreed?"
He shuddered.
"Yes, yes; everything you wish. I am yours."
Then, very serious, she leaned forward. As he did not understand, she
said:--
"Kiss me."
He kissed her on her icy brow. And then they became silent.
Therese had again drawn the curtains of the bed. She sank into an
armchair, where she rested, lost in the darkness. Julien also sat down.
Françoise was no longer in the next room; the house sent them only
muffled sounds. The room seemed to be asleep, and gradually filling with
shadows. For nearly an hour, neither moved. Julien felt within his head
great throbs, like blows, which prevented his reasoning. He was with
Therese, and that filled him with happiness. But when the thought
flashed on him that there was the corpse of a man in that alcove, he
felt as if he would swoon. Was it possible that she had loved that
shrimp? He excused her for having killed him. What fired his blood was
the bare feet of that man in the midst of the rumpled laces. With what
joy he would throw him into the Chanteclair, at the end of the bridge,
at a dark and deep spot that he knew well! They would both be well quit
of him; they could then belong to each other. At the thought of that
happiness that he had not dared dream of in the morning, he saw himself
on the bed in the very place where the corpse now lay; and the place was
cold and he felt a terrified repugnance.
The clock struck, in the midst of the great silence. Therese got up
slowly and lighted the candles on her dressing-table. She appeared
possessed of her accustomed calm, coming and going with the quiet step
of a person who busies herself in the intimacy of her room. She seemed
to have forgotten the sprawling body behind the rose silk hangings. As
she uncoiled her hair, she said, without even turning her head:--
"I am going to dress for the party. If anyone comes, hide yourself in
the end of the alcove."
He remained seated; he watched her. She already treated him like a
lover. With raised arms, she dressed her hair. He watched her with a
thrill, so desirable she appeared with her back uncovered, lazily moving
her delicate elbows and her tapering hands. Was she displaying her
seductions, showing him the lover he was to possess, in order to make
him brave?
She had just put on her slippers, when a step was heard in the corridor.
"Hide in the alcove," she said, in a low voice.
And, with a quick movement, she threw upon the stiffened body of
Colombel all the linen that she had taken off,--a linen still warm with
the perfume of her body.