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Updated: May 28, 2025
It so happened that Hetty was later than usual in leaving her patients that night; and her purpose had been to go home by the nearest way, and not pass through the Square. The villagers had feared this, and had forestalled her; at the turning where she would have left the main road, she found waiting for her the swiftest-footed urchin in all St. Mary's, little Pierre Michaud.
"Afraid! of what?" said the countess, eagerly; for the word reminded her of Mouche and Fourchon. "Afraid of the wolves, is that it?" said Emile, making Madame Michaud a sign, which she did not understand. "No, monsieur, afraid of the peasants. I was born in Le Perche, where of course there are some bad people, but I had no idea how wicked people could be until I came here.
Little by little Laurent allowed himself to be won over, feigning to give way to emotion, to accept the idea of this marriage as one fallen from the clouds, dictated by feelings of devotedness and duty, as old Michaud had said. When the latter had obtained a formal answer in the affirmative, he parted with his companion, rubbing his hands, for he fancied he had just gained a great victory.
"When you have served the coffee, leave the room," said the general to the servants, "and see that the doors are shut." Blondet, who had not yet seen the bailiff of Les Aigues, was conscious, as he now saw him, of a totally different impression from that conveyed by Sibilet. Just as the steward inspired distrust and repulsion, so Michaud commanded respect and confidence.
"Still we cannot do what is impossible. There are wretches who have studied crime at Satan's own school; they would escape the Divinity Himself. Isn't that so, father?" "Yes, yes," confirmed old Michaud. "Thus, while I was at Vernon you perhaps remember the incident, Madame Raquin a wagoner was murdered on the highway. The corpse was found cut in pieces, at the bottom of a ditch.
And, amidst the reddish gleam that passed beneath her closed lids, she could still see Camille and Laurent struggling at the side of the boat. She perceived her husband, livid, horrible, increased in height, rearing up straight above the turbid water, and this implacable vision heightened the feverish heat of her blood. Old Michaud endeavoured to speak to her and console her.
At seven o'clock Madame Raquin lit the fire, set the lamp in the centre of the table, placed a box of dominoes beside it, and wiped the tea service which was in the sideboard. Precisely at eight o'clock old Michaud and Grivet met before the shop, one coming from the Rue de Seine, and the other from the Rue Mazarine. As soon as they entered, all the family went up to the first floor.
As these men gathered in the neighborhood of an immense herd of buffaloes, they busied themselves in adjusting the girths of their beautifully beaded pillow-like saddles. Among them there were exceptional riders and hunters. It was said that few could equal Antoine Michaud in feats of riding into and through the herd. There he stood, all alone, the observed of many others.
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.
The best plan they could follow was to watch and wait for a momentary revelation, and then make the most of it. "If I have to spend twenty thousand francs I'll discover the murderer of my poor Michaud," the general was never weary of saying.
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