door. Outside, on the deserted pavement, he moved along with short steps
in the fresh matutinal air. It was then about five o'clock.

Laurent passed an atrocious day. He had to struggle against the
overpowering drowsiness that settled on him in the afternoon at his
office. His heavy, aching head nodded in spite of himself, but he
abruptly brought it up, as soon as he heard the step of one of his
chiefs. This struggle, these shocks completed wearing out his limbs,
while causing him intolerable anxiety.

In the evening, notwithstanding his lassitude, he went to see Therese,
only to find her feverish, extremely low-spirited, and as weary as
himself.

"Our poor Therese has had a bad night," Madame Raquin said to him,
as soon as he had seated himself. "It seems she was suffering from
nightmare, and terrible insomnia. I heard her crying out on several
occasions. This morning she was quite ill."

Therese, while her aunt was speaking, looked fixedly at Laurent. No
doubt, they guessed their common terror, for a nervous shudder ran over
their countenances. Until ten o'clock they remained face to face with
one another, talking of commonplace matters, but still understanding
each other, and mutually imploring themselves with their eyes, to hasten
the moment when they could unite against the drowned man.



CHAPTER XVIII