Suzanne silently embraced Therese. This poor creature, who was half
dead, and as white as a sheet, had formed a friendship for the rigid and
sombre young widow. She showed her a sort of childlike affection mingled
with a kind of respectful terror. Olivier complimented the aunt and
niece, while Grivet hazarded a few spicy jokes that met with middling
success. Altogether the company were delighted, enchanted, and declared
that everything was for the best; in reality all they thought about was
the wedding feast.

Therese and Laurent were clever enough to maintain a suitable demeanour,
by simply displaying tender and obliging friendship to one another. They
gave themselves an air of accomplishing an act of supreme devotedness.
Nothing in their faces betrayed a suspicion of the terror and desire
that disturbed them. Madame Raquin watched the couple with faint smiles,
and a look of feeble, but grateful goodwill.

A few formalities required fulfilling. Laurent had to write to his
father to ask his consent to the marriage. The old peasant of Jeufosse
who had almost forgotten that he had a son at Paris, answered him, in
four lines, that he could marry, and go and get hanged if he chose. He
gave him to understand that being resolved never to give him a sou,
he left him master of his body, and authorised him to be guilty of all
imaginable follies. A permission accorded in such terms, caused Laurent
singular anxiety.

Madame Raquin, after reading the letter of this unnatural father, in a
transport of kind-heartedness, acted very foolishly. She made over to
her niece the 40,000 francs and more, that she possessed, stripping
herself entirely for the young couple, on whose affection she relied,
with the desire of being indebted to them for all her happiness.