CHAPTER I
The lawyer opened a door. Thérèse Desqueyroux, as she stood in that remote corridor of the law-courts, felt the fog upon her face and inhaled it deeply. She was afraid some one might be waiting for her, and hesitated to go out. A man with his coat collar turned up appeared from the shadow of a plane tree, and she recognised her father.
“All right,” cried the lawyer; “case dismissed”; and, turning to Thérèse, he added, “You can go out now; no one is there.”
She went down the damp steps; the little Square seemed indeed deserted. Her father did not kiss her, did not even look at her. He asked a few questions of Duros, the lawyer, who answered in low tones, as though he were afraid of being overheard. She just managed to catch what they were saying.
“I shall get the official notification to-morrow.”
“I suppose nothing can go wrong now?”
“No, nothing; it’s all over.”
“I suppose after my son-in-law’s statement, it was a certainty?”
“Well, I’m not so sure.... You never can tell.”
“But after he’d said definitely that he had not counted the drops....”