Therese Raquin - Emile Zola [68]
Thérèse went upstairs almost immediately, with Mme Raquin and Suzanne. The men stayed in the dining room while the bride got ready for bed. Laurent, limp and exhausted, felt not the slightest impatience; he listened indulgently to the crude jokes made by Old Michaud and Grivet, who told them without restraint now that the ladies were no longer present. When Suzanne and Mme Raquin came out of the nuptial chamber and the old haberdasher told him, in a trembling voice, that his bride was waiting for him, he shuddered and stayed for a moment in a state of terror. Then he feverishly shook the hands that they held out to him and went in to Thérèse, supporting himself on the doorway, like a drunken man.
XXI
Laurent carefully closed the door behind him and remained for a moment leaning against it, looking into the room with an uneasy, embarrassed manner.
A bright fire was blazing in the grate, casting large patches of yellow light that danced on the ceiling and the walls, so that the room was lit by a bright, flickering light in which the lamp, standing on a table, paled by comparison. Mme Raquin had tried to arrange the room prettily, all white and perfumed, to make a nest for these fresh, young lovers. She had taken a particular pleasure in adding some bits of lace to the bedclothes and putting large bunches of roses in the vases on the mantelpiece. Gentle warmth and sweet fragrances hung about the room, where the atmosphere was serene and peaceful, bathed in a sort of drowsy voluptuousness. The simmering calm was broken only by the little dry crackling of the fire in the hearth. It was like a fortunate oasis, a forgotten corner, warm and sweet-smelling, shut off from all extraneous noise, one of those corners designed for sensuality and to satisfy the needs of the mystery of passionate love.
Thérèse was sitting on a low chair, to the right of the chimney. With her chin on her hand, she was staring hard at the flames. She did not look round when Laurent came in. In her lace-trimmed petticoat and bodice, she was a harsh white against the burning light of the fire. Her bodice had slipped and part of her shoulder was visible, pink and half hidden by a lock of black hair.
Laurent made a few steps into the room without speaking. He took off his coat and waistcoat. When he was in his shirt-sleeves, he looked again at Thérèse, who had not moved. He appeared to hesitate. Then he saw the shoulder and bent over, trembling, to put his lips against this piece of naked flesh. The young woman moved her shoulder away, turning around sharply. She gave Laurent such a strange look of repulsion and panic that he shrank back, worried and uneasy, as though overtaken himself by terror and disgust.
He sat down opposite Thérèse on the other side of the hearth. They stayed there in silence, not moving, for five long minutes. From time to time, a reddish flame would spurt out of the wood and reflections, the colour of blood, played over the murderers’ faces.
It was almost two years since the lovers had found themselves alone in the same room, with no one watching, able to give themselves freely to one another. They had not had an amorous meeting since the day when Thérèse came to the Rue Saint-Victor, bringing Laurent the idea of murder with her. Caution had kept their flesh apart, and they had barely risked an occasional clasp of the hand or a furtive kiss. After Camille’s murder, when they once more felt desire for one another, they had restrained themselves, waiting for the wedding night and the promise of wild passion when they were safe from punishment. And now, at last, the wedding night had arrived and they were left face to face, anxious and troubled by a sudden feeling of uncertainty. They had only to reach out and clasp one another in a passionate embrace; yet their arms were weak, as though already weary and satiated with love. They felt increasingly weighed down with the pressures of the day. They looked at one another without desire, with timid embarrassment, pained at their own silence and frigidity. Their ardent