countenance wore an air of egotistic beatitude. These people fell ill
at ease, having no longer the slightest recollection of Camille alive in
their hearts.

"Come, my dear lady," exclaimed old Michaud, slightly impatiently, "you
must not give way to despair like that. You will make yourself ill."

"We are all mortal," affirmed Grivet.

"Your tears will not restore your son to you," sententiously observed
Olivier.

"Do not cause us pain, I beg you," murmured Suzanne.

And as Madame Raquin sobbed louder, unable to restrain her tears,
Michaud resumed:

"Come, come, have a little courage. You know we come here to give you
some distraction. Then do not let us feel sad. Let us try to forget. We
are playing two sous a game. Eh! What do you say?"

The mercer stifled her sobs with a violent effort. Perhaps she was
conscious of the happy egotism of her guests. She dried her tears, but
was still quite upset. The dominoes trembled in her poor hands, and the
moisture in her eyes prevented her seeing.

The game began.

Laurent and Therese had witnessed this brief scene in a grave and
impassive manner. The young man was delighted to see these Thursday