crisis. And it was just the same with Laurent. When driven to
extremities, he, in a fit of despair, accused Therese of being afraid
of Camille. The name, uttered aloud, occasioned additional anguish. The
murderer raved.

"Yes, yes," he stammered, addressing the young woman, "you are afraid of
Camille. I can see that plain enough! You are a silly thing, you have
no pluck at all. Look here! just go to sleep quietly. Do you think your
husband will come and pull you out of bed by the heels, because I happen
to be sleeping with you?"

This idea that the drowned man might come and pull them out of bed by
the heels, made the hair of Laurent stand on end, and he continued with
greater violence, while still in the utmost terror himself.

"I shall have to take you some night to the cemetery. We will open the
coffin Camille is in, and you will see what he looks like! Then you will
perhaps cease being afraid. Go on, he doesn't know we threw him in the
water."

Therese with her head under the bedclothes, was uttering smothered
groans.

"We threw him into the water, because he was in our way," resumed her
husband. "And we'll throw him in again, will we not? Don't act like a
child. Show a little strength. It's silly to trouble our happiness. You
see, my dear, when we are dead and underground, we shall be neither less
nor more happy, because we cast an idiot in the Seine, and we shall have
freely enjoyed our love which will have been an advantage. Come, give me
a kiss."