The damp air of the shop calmed the burning
fever of her hands, and she again fell into the customary grave reverie.
But she could not remain like this for long. Camille became angry at her
absence. He failed to comprehend how anyone could prefer the shop to the
dining-room on a Thursday evening, and he leant over the banister, to
look for his wife.
"What's the matter?" he would shout. "What are you doing there? Why
don't you come up? Grivet has the devil's own luck. He has just won
again."
The young woman rose painfully, and ascending to the dining-room resumed
her seat opposite old Michaud, whose pendent lips gave heartrending
smiles. And, until eleven o'clock, she remained oppressed in her chair,
watching Francois whom she held in her arms, so as to avoid seeing the
cardboard dolls grimacing around her.
CHAPTER V
One Thursday, Camille, on returning from his office, brought with him a
great fellow with square shoulders, whom he pushed in a familiar manner
into the shop.
"Mother," he said to Madame Raquin, pointing to the newcomer, "do you
recognise this gentleman?"
The old mercer looked at the strapping blade, seeking among her
recollections and finding nothing, while Therese placidly observed the
scene.
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