Therese all at once started as though surprised to hear a voice
stammering in her ears. Turning towards Laurent, on whose countenance
the fire, at this moment, cast a broad reddish reflection, she gazed at
his sanguinary face, and shuddered.

The young man, more troubled and anxious, resumed:

"We have succeeded, Therese; we have broken through all obstacles, and
we belong to one another. The future is ours, is it not? A future of
tranquil happiness, of satisfied love. Camille is no longer here----"

Laurent ceased speaking. His throat had suddenly become dry, and he was
choking, unable to continue. On hearing the name of Camille, Therese
received a violent shock. The two murderers contemplated one another,
stupefied, pale, and trembling. The yellow gleams of light from the
fire continued to dance on ceiling and walls, the soft odour of roses
lingered in the air, the crackling of the wood broke the silence with
short, sharp reports.

Remembrances were abandoned. The spectre of Camille which had been
evoked, came and seated itself between the newly married pair, in front
of the flaming fire. Therese and Laurent recognised the cold, damp smell
of the drowned man in the warm air they were breathing. They said to
themselves that a corpse was there, close to them, and they examined
one another without daring to move. Then all the terrible story of their
crime was unfolded in their memory. The name of their victim sufficed
to fill them with thoughts of the past, to compel them to go through all
the anguish of the murder over again. They did not open their lips, but
looked at one another, and both at the same time were troubled with the
same nightmare, both with their eyes broached the same cruel tale.