The egotism he displayed in the enjoyment of his good
fortune, shielded him from any fault. All that kept him from kissing
Therese in the shop was the fear that he would not be allowed to come
any more. He would not have cared a bit about hurting Camille and his
mother.
Therese, who was of a more nervous and quivering temperament, was
compelled to play a part, and she played it to perfection, thanks to the
clever hypocrisy she had acquired in her bringing up. For nearly fifteen
years, she had been lying, stifling her fever, exerting an implacable
will to appear gloomy and half asleep. It cost her nothing to keep this
mask on her face, which gave her an appearance of icy frigidity.
When Laurent entered the shop, he found her glum, her nose longer, her
lips thinner. She was ugly, cross, unapproachable. Nevertheless, she
did not exaggerate her effects, but only played her former part, without
awakening attention by greater harshness. She experienced extraordinary
pleasure in deceiving Camille and Madame Raquin. She was aware she was
doing wrong, and at times she felt a ferocious desire to rise from table
and smother Laurent with kisses, just to show her husband and aunt that
she was not a fool, and that she had a sweetheart.
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