they shouted in a heartrending voice:

"We have killed Camille, and his corpse is there, extended between us,
making our limbs like ice."

And the terrible confidence continued, more manifest, more resounding,
in the calm moist air of the room.

Laurent and Therese had commenced the mute narration from the day of
their first interview in the shop. Then the recollections had come one
by one in order; they had related their hours of love, their moments of
hesitation and anger, the terrible incident of the murder. It was then
that they pinched their lips, ceasing to talk of one thing and another,
in fear lest they should all at once name Camille without desiring to do
so.

But their thoughts failing to cease, had then led them into great
distress, into the affrighted period of expectancy following the crime.
They thus came to think of the corpse of the drowned man extended on a
slab at the Morgue. Laurent, by a look, told Therese all the horror he
had felt, and the latter, driven to extremities, compelled by a hand of
iron to part her lips, abruptly continued the conversation aloud:

"You saw him at the Morgue?" she inquired of Laurent without naming
Camille.

Laurent looked as if he expected this question. He had been reading it
for a moment on the livid face of the young woman.

"Yes," answered he in a choking voice.