Laurent, in the end, refused to remain seated any longer, without
avowing the cause of this whim to Therese. The latter understood that he
must see Camille as she saw him; and, in her turn, she declared that
the heat made her feel ill, and that she would be more comfortable a few
steps away from the chimney. Pushing back her armchair to the foot of
the bed, she remained there overcome, while her husband resumed his walk
in the room. From time to time, he opened the window, allowing the icy
air of the cold January night to fill the apartment, and this calmed his
fever.
For a week, the newly-married couple passed the nights in this fashion,
dozing and getting a little rest in the daytime, Therese behind the
counter in the shop, Laurent in his office. At night they belonged to
pain and fear. And the strangest part of the whole business was the
attitude they maintained towards each other. They did not utter one word
of love, but feigned to have forgotten the past; and seemed to accept,
to tolerate one another like sick people, feeling secret pity for their
mutual sufferings.
Both hoped to conceal their disgust and fear, and neither seemed to
think of the peculiar nights they passed, which should have enlightened
them as to the real state of their beings.
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