Therese Raquin - Emile Zola [64]
While Michaud was talking with Laurent as they slowly walked along beside the river, Mme Raquin was having a quite similar conversation with Thérèse. Just as her niece was going to bed, pale and uneasy on her feet as usual, the old woman kept her back for a moment. She questioned her in a gentle voice, begging her to be frank and to tell her the reason for the dark mood that was oppressing her. Then, getting only vague answers, she talked about the void left by widowhood and gradually worked her way round towards the possibility of a remarriage and finally asked Thérèse straight out if she did not secretly long to get married again. Thérèse protested, saying that this was not on her mind and that she would remain faithful to Camille. Mme Raquin began to cry. She argued against her own belief, suggesting that despair need not be eternal; and finally, in answer to an exclamation by the young woman that she would not replace Camille, Mme Raquin named Laurent. After that, she expounded at length, with a flood of words, upon the suitability and advantages of such a match. She bared her soul and repeated aloud what she had been thinking during the evening. With unselfconscious egotism, she painted a picture of her last happy days surrounded by her two dear children. Thérèse listened with bowed head, resigned and docile, ready to satisfy her aunt’s least desire.
‘I love Laurent like a brother,’ she said, in a pained voice, when her aunt had finished. ‘Since that is what you want, I shall try to love him as a husband. I want to make you happy ... I had hoped that you would let me mourn in peace, but I shall dry my tears, since your happiness is involved.’
She embraced the old lady, who was surprised and anxious at having been the first to forget her son. As she got into bed, Mme Raquin wept bitterly, accusing herself of being weaker than Thérèse and wanting a match out of egotism that the young widow herself would accept for reasons of simple self-denial.
The following morning, Michaud and his old friend had a brief conversation in the arcade in front of the shop. They told each other the results of their manoeuvres and agreed to go right ahead, obliging the young people to get engaged that very evening.
In the evening, at five o’clock, Michaud was already in the shop when Laurent arrived. As soon as the young man was seated, the retired police commissioner whispered in his ear:
‘She accepts.’
This bald statement was overheard by Thérèse, who went pale, staring shamelessly at Laurent. The two lovers looked at one another for a few seconds, as though discussing the matter. Both of them realized that they had to accept the position without further ado and get it all over with. Laurent got up and went over to take the hand of Mme Raquin, who was making every effort to hold back her tears.
‘Dear Mother,’ he said with a smile. ‘I talked with Monsieur Michaud yesterday evening about your future well-being. Your children want to make you happy.’
When the old lady heard herself addressed as ‘dear Mother’, her tears flowed. She grasped Thérèse’s hand and pressed it into Laurent’s, unable to utter a word.
The two lovers shuddered at each other’s touch. They stayed there, with fingers gripped and burning, in a nervous embrace. The young man went on in a hesitant voice:
‘Thérèse, would you like us to create a happy, peaceful life for your aunt?’
‘Yes,’ the young woman replied, weakly. ‘We have a duty to fulfil.’
At that, Laurent turned towards Mme Raquin and added, very pale:
‘When