• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 910 0

going to bed for as long as possible. Mme Raquin, half recumbent at the back of a wide armchair, sat between them and chatted in her placid tones. She would tell them about Vernon, always thinking about her son, but not naming him, out of a sense that it would somehow be indecent to do so. She would smile at her dear children and make plans for their future. The lamp cast a pale light over her white face and her words took on an extraordinary softness in the still, silent air. And, on either side of her, the two murderers, not speaking or moving, seemed to be listening to her devoutly. In fact, they would not seek to follow the meaning of the good old woman’s prattling; they were just happy at this soft sound of words, which prevented them from hearing the roar of their own thoughts. They did not dare look at one another; they would look at Mme Raquin, so as to keep a good face. They never spoke about going to bed and would have stayed there until morning, caressed by the flow of chatter from the old haberdasher, in the tranquillity that she created around her, if she herself had not expressed a wish to retire. Only then would they leave the dining room and return to their room in despair, like people hurling themselves into a chasm.

They very soon came to prefer the Thursday sessions to these intimate evenings. When they were alone with Mme Raquin, they could not deafen themselves. The slender thread of their aunt’s voice and her tender merriment did not stifle the cries tearing them apart. They felt bedtime approaching and shuddered when they happened to glance towards the door of their room. Waiting for the moment when they would be alone became more and more painful as the evening progressed. On Thursdays, on the other hand, they were intoxicated by idiocies and forgot about each other’s presence, so they suffered less. Even Thérèse came eventually to long for these days when they had guests. If Michaud and Grivet had not come, she would have gone to look for them. When there were strangers in the dining room, between her and Laurent, she felt calmer; she would have liked there to be guests always; and noise: something that would stun and isolate her. With other people, she exhibited a sort of nervous merriment. Laurent, too, reverted to his coarse peasant jokes, his belly laughs and his art student’s tricks. Never had their gatherings been so jolly or so noisy.

That is how, once a week, Laurent and Thérèse managed to remain in each other’s company without a shudder.

Soon they had a new cause for anxiety. Mme Raquin was gradually being overtaken by paralysis and they could foresee the day when she would be tied to her chair, physically and mentally incapable. The poor old woman was starting to mutter phrases that were not connected to one another, her voice was growing weaker and her limbs were failing one by one. She was turning into a thing. Thérèse and Laurent were horrified to see the vanishing of this person who, for the time being, was keeping them apart and whose voice roused them from their nightmares. When the old haberdasher had lost all understanding, when she was left dumb and stiff in her chair, they would be alone. In the evening, they would no longer be able to escape from an intimacy that they dreaded. In that case, their terror would start at six o’clock, instead of starting at midnight. They would go mad.

They devoted themselves entirely to preserving the health of Mme Raquin, which was so precious to them. They called in doctors, they attended to her slightest need and they even found that the job of sick-nurse helped them to forget, bringing a sense of peace that encouraged them to double their efforts. They did not want to lose this third party who made their evenings bearable, they did not want the dining room and the whole house to become a tormenting and sinister place like their bedroom. Mme Raquin was extremely touched by the care that they lavished on her; she congratulated herself, with tears in her eyes, at having brought them together and having given them her forty or so thousand francs.