CHAPTER XXI

Laurent carefully closed the door behind him, and for a moment or two
stood leaning against it, gazing round the apartment in anxiety and
embarrassment.

A clear fire burned on the hearth, sending large sheets of light dancing
on ceiling and walls. The room was thus lit-up by bright vacillating
gleams, that in a measure annulled the effects of the lamp placed on
a table in their midst. Madame Raquin had done her best to convey
a coquettish aspect to the apartment. It was one mass of white, and
perfumed throughout, as if to serve as a nest for young, fresh love. The
good lady, moreover, had taken pleasure in adding a few bits of lace to
the bed, and in filling the vases on the chimney-piece with bunches of
roses. Gentle warmth and pleasant fragrance reigned over all, and not a
sound broke the silence, save the crackling and little sharp reports of
the wood aglow on the hearth.

Therese was seated on a low chair to the right of the chimney, staring
fixedly at the bright flames, with her chin in her hand. She did not
turn her head when Laurent entered. Clothed in a petticoat and linen
night-jacket bordered with lace, she looked snowy white in the bright
light of the fire. Her jacket had become disarranged, and part of her
rosy shoulder appeared, half hidden by a tress of raven hair.

Laurent advanced a few paces without speaking, and took off his coat
and waistcoat. When he stood in his shirt sleeves, he again looked at