“This room is the Temple of Peace!”
In the meanwhile, Suzanne, who was putting on her hat, remarked to Thérèse:
“I will come to-morrow morning at nine o’clock.”
“No,” hastened to answer the young woman in a strange, troubled tone, “don’t come until the afternoon I have an engagement in the morning.”
She accompanied the guests into the arcade, and Laurent also went down with a lamp in his hand. As soon as the married couple were alone, both heaved a sigh of relief. They must have been devoured by secret impatience all the evening. Since the previous day they had become more sombre, more anxious in presence of one another. They avoided looking at each other, and returned in silence to the dining-room. Their hands gave slight convulsive twitches, and Laurent was obliged to place the lamp on the table, to avoid letting it fall.
Before putting Madame Raquin to bed they were in the habit of setting the dining-room in order, of preparing a glass of sugar and water for the night, of moving hither and thither about the invalid, until everything was ready.
When they got upstairs on this particular occasion, they sat down an instant with pale lips, and eyes gazing vaguely before them. Laurent was the first to break silence:
“Well! Aren’t we going to bed?” he inquired, as if he had just started from a dream.
“Yes, yes, we are going to bed,” answered Thérèse, shivering as though she felt a violent chill.
She rose and grasped the water decanter.