During this conversation, Therese and Laurent had remained silent. They
had not even smiled at the folly of Grivet. Both leaning with their
arms on the table, looking slightly pale, and with a vague expression in
their eyes, listened. At one moment those dark, ardent orbs had met. And
small drops of perspiration pearled at the roots of the hair of Therese,
while chilly puffs of breath gave imperceptible shivers to the skin of
Laurent.



CHAPTER XI

Sometimes on a Sunday, when the weather was fine, Camille forced Therese
to go out with him, for a walk in the Champs Elysees. The young woman
would have preferred to remain in the damp obscurity of the arcade, for
the exercise fatigued her, and it worried her to be on the arm of her
husband, who dragged her along the pavement, stopping before the shop
windows, expressing his astonishment, making reflections, and then
falling into ridiculous spells of silence.

But Camille insisted on these Sunday outings, which gave him the
satisfaction of showing off his wife. When he met a colleague,
particularly one of his chiefs, he felt quite proud to exchange bows
with him, in the company of Madame. Besides, he walked for the sake
of walking, and he did so almost in silence, stiff and deformed in his
Sunday clothes, dragging along his feet, and looking silly and vain. It
made Therese suffer to be seen arm in arm with such a man.

On these walking-out days, Madame Raquin accompanied her children to the