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The guests came, in fear, into this house of mourning; each week they were trembling with anxiety, lest they should be definitely dismissed. The idea that the door of the shop would no doubt at last be closed to them, terrified Michaud and Grivet, who clung to their habits with the instinct and obstinacy of brutes.
In acting as they did, they believed they were giving proof of politeness; they, moreover, avoided the annoyance of the customary condolences. They fancied that Madame Raquin must feel flattered to find herself treated as a person in good health; and, from that moment, it became possible for them to be merry in her presence, without the least scruple. Grivet had contracted a mania.
The latter always related the same tales of robbery and murder, while Grivet spoke at the same time about his clerks, his chiefs, and his administration, until the young man sought refuge beside Olivier and Suzanne, whose stupidity seemed less wearisome. But he soon asked for the dominoes. It was on Thursday evening that Laurent and Therese arranged the day and hour of their meeting.
It is not necessary for her to write on the table to make me understand; a mere look suffices. She means to say: "Therese and Laurent have been very kind to me." Grivet, on this occasion, had cause to be proud of his imagination, for all the company were of his opinion; and the guests began to sing the praises of the married couple, who were so good for the poor lady.
The picture will be finished in a week." "That will be fine," answered Camille, flushed with joy. "You shall dine with us. I will have my hair curled, and put on my black frock coat." Eight o'clock struck. Grivet and Michaud made their entry. Olivier and Suzanne arrived behind them. When Camille introduced his friend to the company, Grivet pinched his lips.
The authorities were never able to lay hands on the culprit. He is perhaps still living at this hour. Maybe he is our neighbour, and perhaps M. Grivet will meet him on his way home." Grivet turned pale as a sheet. He dared not look round. He fancied the murderer of the wagoner was behind him. But for that matter, he was delighted to feel afraid.
On the morrow, Laurent took a small studio in the lower part of the Rue Mazarine, which his eye had been fixed on for a month. He did not mean to leave his office without having a refuge where he could quietly pass his days far away from Therese. At the end of the fortnight, he bade adieu to his colleagues. Grivet was stupefied at his departure.
It was a strange sight: these men who appeared to be speaking sensibly to a statue, just as little girls talk to their dolls. The paralysed woman sat rigid and mute before them, while they babbled, multiplying their gestures in exceedingly animated conversations with her. Michaud and Grivet prided themselves on their correct attitude.
Then Grivet and Camille listened to the stories of the commissary with the affrighted and gaping countenances of small children listening to "Blue Beard" or "Tom Thumb." These tales terrified and amused them.
"What!" exclaimed Grivet astonished, "you think there are foul creatures like that walking about the streets, people who have murdered and are not arrested?" Olivier smiled with an air of disdain. "My dear sir," he answered in his dictatorial tone, "if they are not arrested it is because no one is aware that they have committed a murder."
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