She kissed the old lady, who remained surprised and frightened at having been the first to forget her son. As Madame Raquin went to bed, she sobbed bitterly, accusing herself of having less strength than Thérèse, and of desiring, out of egotism, a marriage that the young widow accepted by simple abnegation.
The following morning, Michaud and his old friend had a short conversation in the arcade, before the door of the shop, where they communicated to one another the result of their efforts, and agreed to hurry matters on by forcing the young people to become affianced the same evening.
At five o’clock, Michaud was already in the shop when Laurent entered. As soon as the young man had seated himself, the former commissary of police said in his ear:
“She accepts.”
This blunt remark was overheard by Thérèse who remained pale, with her eyes impudently fixed on Laurent. The two sweethearts looked at each other for a few seconds as if consulting. Both understood that they must accept the position without hesitation, and finish the business at one stroke. Laurent, rising, went and took the hand of Madame Raquin, who made every effort to restrain her tears.
“Dear mother,” said he smiling, “I was talking about your felicity, last night, with M. Michaud. Your children wish to make you happy.”
The poor old lady, on hearing herself called “dear mother,” allowed her tears to flow. She quietly seized the hand of Thérèse and placed it in that of Laurent, unable to utter a single word.
The two sweethearts shivered on feeling their skins touch, and remained with their burning fingers pressed together, in a nervous clasp. After a pause, the young man, in a hesitating tone, resumed:
“Thérèse, shall we give your aunt a bright and peaceful existence?”
“Yes,” feebly replied the young woman, “we have a duty to perform.”