Laurent resumed calling of an evening, every two or three days,
remaining in the shop talking to Madame Raquin for half an hour. Then
he went off without looking Thérèse in the face. The old mercer regarded
him as the rescuer of her niece, as a noble-hearted young man who had
done his utmost to restore her son to her, and she welcomed him with
tender kindness.
One Thursday evening, when Laurent happened to be there, old Michaud
and Grivet entered. Eight o’clock was striking. The clerk and the former
commissary of police had both thought, independently of one another,
that they could resume their dear custom, without appearing importunate,
and they arrived at the same moment, as if urged by the same impulse.
Behind them, came Olivier and Suzanne.
Everyone went upstairs to the dining-room. Madame Raquin who expected
nobody, hastened to light the lamp, and prepare the tea. When all were
seated round the table, each before a cup, when the box of dominoes
had been emptied on the board, the old mother, with the past suddenly
brought back to her, looked at her guests, and burst into sobs. There
was a vacant place, that of her son.
This despair cast a chill upon the company and annoyed them. Every
countenance wore an air of egotistic beatitude. These people felt ill
at ease, having no longer the slightest recollection of Camille alive in
their hearts.
“Come, my dear lady,” exclaimed old Michaud, slightly impatiently, “you
must not give way to despair like that. You will make yourself ill.”
“We are all mortal,” affirmed Grivet.
“Your tears will not restore your son to you,” sententiously observed
Olivier.
“Do not cause us pain, I beg you,” murmured Suzanne.
And as Madame Raquin sobbed louder, unable to restrain her tears,
Michaud resumed:
“Come, come, have a little courage. You know we come here to give you
some distraction. Then do not let us feel sad. Let us try to forget. We
are playing two sous a game. Eh! What do you say?”
The mercer stifled her sobs with a violent effort. Perhaps she was
conscious of the happy egotism of her guests. She dried her tears, but
was still quite upset. The dominoes trembled in her poor hands, and the
moisture in her eyes prevented her seeing.
The game began.
Laurent and Thérèse had witnessed this brief scene in a grave and
impassive manner. The young man was delighted to see these Thursday
evenings resumed. He ardently desired them to be continued, aware that
he would have need of these gatherings to attain his end. Besides,
without asking himself the reason, he felt more at ease among these few
persons whom he knew, and it gave him courage to look Thérèse in the
face.
The young woman, attired in black, pale and meditative, seemed to him to
possess a beauty that he had hitherto ignored. He was happy to meet
her eyes, and to see them rest upon his own with courageous fixedness.
Thérèse still belonged to him, heart and soul.