When the cab stopped, Michaud and his son got out the first, and Laurent
bending towards his sweetheart gently murmured:

"Be strong, Therese. We have a long time to wait. Recollect."

Then the young woman opened her lips for the first time since the death
of her husband.

"Oh! I shall recollect," said she with a shudder, and in a voice light
as a puff of breath.

Olivier extended his hand, inviting her to get down. On this occasion,
Laurent went as far as the shop. Madame Raquin was abed, a prey to
violent delirium. Therese dragged herself to her room, where Suzanne
had barely time to undress her before she gave way. Tranquillised,
perceiving that everything was proceeding as well as he could wish,
Laurent withdrew, and slowly gained his wretched den in the rue
Saint-Victor.

It was past midnight. Fresh air circulated in the deserted, silent
streets. The young man could hear naught but his own footsteps
resounding on the pavement. The nocturnal coolness of the atmosphere
cheered him up; the silence, the darkness gave him sharp sensations of
delight, and he loitered on his way.

At last he was rid of his crime. He had killed Camille. It was a matter
that was settled, and would be spoken of no more. He was now going to
lead a tranquil existence, until he could take possession of Therese.
The thought of the murder had at times half choked him, but now that it