One circumstance, which would have brought a smile to the lips of anyone
else, made him completely lose his head. As he stood before the fire, he
heard a sort of scratching sound. He turned pale, imagining it came
from the portrait, that Camille was descending from his frame. Then
he discovered that the noise was at the small door opening on the
staircase, and he looked at Therese who also showed signs of fear.

"There is someone on the staircase," he murmured. "Who can be coming
that way?"

The young woman gave no answer. Both were thinking of the drowned man,
and their temples became moist with icy perspiration. They sought refuge
together at the end of the room, expecting to see the door suddenly
open, and the corpse of Camille fall on the floor. As the sound
continued, but more sharply and irregularly, they thought their victim
must be tearing away the wood with his nails to get in. For the space of
nearly five minutes, they dared not stir. Finally, a mewing was heard,
and Laurent advancing, recognised the tabby cat belonging to Madame
Raquin, which had been accidentally shut up in the room, and was
endeavouring to get out by clawing at the door.

Francois, frightened by Laurent, sprang upon a chair at a bound. With
hair on end and stiffened paws, he looked his new master in the face, in
a harsh and cruel manner. The young man did not like cats, and Francois
almost terrified him. In this moment of excitement and alarm, he
imagined the cat was about to fly in his face to avenge Camille. He
fancied the beast must know everything, that there were thoughts in
his strangely dilated round eyes. The fixed gaze of the animal caused
Laurent to lower his lids. As he was about to give Francois a kick,