Therese Raquin - Emile Zola [103]
He started to stroll along, enjoying the sudden, pleasant feeling of having switched from anxiety to calm. He was almost grateful to his wife for going to join a lover when he had thought she was on her way to the police. He was pleasantly surprised by the unexpected outcome of this adventure. What was most clear to him in all this was that he had been wrong to worry, and that he ought to indulge in a little vice himself to see if it might not relieve him by drowning out his thoughts.
That evening when he got back to the shop, Laurent decided that he would ask his wife for a few thousand francs and go to any length to get them out of her. It occurred to him that vice is expensive for a man, and he felt vaguely envious of women, who can sell themselves. He waited patiently for Thérèse, who was not yet back. When she did come in, he tackled her gently and said nothing of spying on her that morning. She was a little drunk and her clothes, carelessly buttoned, gave off the rancid smell of tobacco and liquor that hangs around bars. Tired out, her face blotchy, she could hardly stand on her feet, heavy with the shameful exhaustion of her day.
There was silence at the table; Thérèse did not eat. At dessert, Laurent put his elbows up and asked point blank for five thousand francs.
‘No,’ she answered drily. ‘If I gave you a chance, you’d ruin us ... Don’t you know how things stand? We’re heading straight for penury as it is.’
‘Perhaps we are,’ he replied calmly. ‘I don’t care. I want money.’
‘No, a thousand times no! You’ve left your job, we’re not making anything from the haberdashery, and we’re not going to be able to live off the income from my dowry. Every day, I have to break into the savings to feed you and give you the hundred francs a month that you squeezed out of me. You won’t have anything more, do you understand? There’s no point in asking.’
‘Just think a moment, and don’t refuse me like that. I’m telling you, I want five thousand francs, and I’ll have them. You’ll give them to me, whatever you say.’
This placid obstinacy infuriated Thérèse and completed her intoxication.
‘Oh, now I understand!’ she yelled. ‘You want to finish as you started. We’ve been keeping you for four years. You only came here to eat and drink and since then you’ve been living off us. His Highness does nothing, his Highness has contrived to live at my expense, with his arms folded. No, you won’t have anything, not a penny. Do you want me to tell you what you are? Well, I will. You’re a ...’3
She said it. Laurent shrugged his shoulders and began to laugh, replying merely:
‘You’ve picked up some nice words from the company you’re keeping nowadays.’
This was the only reference he chose to make to Thérèse’s adultery. She looked up sharply and said, in a bitter voice:
‘In any case, I’m not mixing with murderers.’
Laurent went very pale. For a moment he stayed silent, staring at his wife, then he said, in a trembling voice:
‘Listen here, my girl, let’s not row with each other. It won’t do either of us any good. I’m at the end of my tether. It would be a good idea if we made a deal, if we don’t want something dreadful to happen. I asked you for five thousand francs because I need it. I might even tell you that I’m thinking of using the money to make sure we have a quiet life.’
He gave an odd smile and went on:
‘Now, think and give me your final word.’
‘I’ve thought it all through,’ the young woman replied. ‘As I told you, you won’t get a sou.’
Her husband jumped to his feet. She was afraid he would beat her and hunched up, determined not to give way to his blows. But Laurent did not even go near her; he just said coldly that he was tired of life and that he was going to the local police station to tell