The young woman kissed him, but she was icy cold, and half crazy, while
he shuddered as much as she did.

For a fortnight Laurent was asking himself how he could kill Camille
again. He had flung him in the water; and yet he was not dead enough,
because he came every night to sleep in the bed of Therese. While the
murderers thought that having committed the crime, they could love one
another in peace, their resuscitated victim arrived to make their touch
like ice. Therese was not a widow. Laurent found that he was mated to a
woman who already had a drowned man for husband.



CHAPTER XXIII

Little by little, Laurent became furiously mad, and resolved to drive
Camille from his bed. He had first of all slept with his clothes on,
then he had avoided touching Therese. In rage and despair, he wanted, at
last, to take his wife in his arms, and crush the spectre of his victim
rather than leave her to it. This was a superb revolt of brutality.

The hope that the kisses of Therese would cure him of his insomnia, had
alone brought him into the room of the young woman. When he had found
himself there, in the position of master, he had become a prey to such
atrocious attacks, that it had not even occurred to him to attempt
the cure. And he had remained overwhelmed for three weeks, without
remembering that he had done everything to obtain Therese, and now that
she was in his possession, he could not touch her without increased
suffering.