Therese Raquin - Emile Zola [31]
Laurent felt a chill in his bones. He found Thérèse’s joke ridiculous. He got up and put the cat out of the door. In fact, he was afraid. Thérèse was not yet entirely mistress of him. Deep inside, he felt a little of the unease that he had experienced from the young woman’s first embrace.
VIII
In the evenings, in the shop, Laurent was perfectly happy. Normally, he came back from the office with Camille. Mme Raquin had conceived a maternal affection for him; she knew that he was not well off, that he ate poorly and slept in an attic, so she told him once and for all that there would always be a place for him at their table. She liked the boy with that effusive love that old women have for people from their own part of the world who carry with them memories of the past.
The young man took full advantage of this hospitality. On leaving the office, before coming back, he would take a bit of a walk with Camille along the river. Both of them appreciated this friendship; they suffered less from boredom and chatted as they went. Then they would agree to go and eat Mme Raquin’s supper. Laurent opened the door of the shop as though he owned it. He sat himself down, astride his chair, smoking and spitting, just as though he were at home.
He was not at all bothered by the presence of Thérèse. He treated the young woman with a friendly lack of formality, teasing her and paying her routine compliments, without a hint of a smile. Camille laughed and, since his wife would reply to his friend only in monosyllables, he was quite convinced that they hated each other. One day, he even reproached Thérèse with what he called her coldness towards Laurent.
Laurent had been right: he had become the wife’s lover, the husband’s friend and the mother’s spoiled child. Never had his appetites been so well satisfied. He luxuriated in the infinite pleasures provided for him by the Raquin family. In any case, his position in this family seemed quite natural to him. He was on intimate terms with Camille, but felt no anger or remorse towards him. He was not even cautious about what he did or said, so certain was he of his prudence and composure; the egotism with which he enjoyed this happiness protected him against any feeling of sin. In the shop, his mistress became a woman like any other, whom he might not kiss and who did not exist for him. The reason he did not kiss her in front of everyone was that he was afraid of not being allowed to come back. This was the only thing that stopped him. Otherwise, he would not have cared at all about the feelings of Camille and his mother. He was blissfully unaware of any consequences that the discovery of his affair might bring. He thought that he was acting naturally, as anyone would have done in his place, being a poor and hungry man. Hence his smug complacency, his prudent daring and his mocking attitude of unconcern.
Thérèse, who was more nervous and anxious, was obliged to play a part. She did so to perfection, thanks to the training in hypocrisy that she owed to her upbringing. She had lied for more than fifteen years, repressing her passions and applying her implacable will to appear dull and listless. She had no difficulty in freezing her features behind a dead mask. When Laurent arrived, she appeared to him serious, grumpy, her nose longer and her lips thinner. She was ugly, surly and unapproachable. In reality, she was not putting it on; she was simply playing her old self, without attracting attention by exaggerating her brusqueness. As far as she was concerned, she felt a bitter pleasure in fooling Camille and Mme Raquin. She was not like Laurent, wallowing in a state of dull contentment at the satisfaction of his desires and oblivious of duty. She knew that what she was doing was wrong, and she had violent urges to leap up from the table and kiss Laurent full