It was he who gave out the work in the office where Camille had
found employment, and the latter showed him certain respect. Camille, in
his day dreams, had said to himself that Grivet would one day die,
and that he would perhaps take his place at the end of a decade or
so. Grivet was delighted at the welcome Madame Raquin gave him, and
he returned every week with perfect regularity. Six months later, his
Thursday visit had become, in his way of thinking, a duty: he went
to the Arcade of the Pont Neuf, just as he went every morning to his
office, that is to say mechanically, and with the instinct of a brute.
From this moment, the gatherings became charming. At seven o'clock
Madame Raquin lit the fire, set the lamp in the centre of the table,
placed a box of dominoes beside it, and wiped the tea service which was
in the sideboard. Precisely at eight o'clock old Michaud and Grivet met
before the shop, one coming from the Rue de Seine, and the other from
the Rue Mazarine. As soon as they entered, all the family went up to the
first floor. There, in the dining-room, they seated themselves round the
table waiting for Olivier Michaud and his wife who always arrived late.
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