It was like a vile obstacle separating them. They were seized with
fever and delirium, and this obstacle, in their minds, became material.
They touched the corpse, they saw it spread out, like a greenish and
dissolved shred of something, and they inhaled the infectious odour of
this lump of human putrefaction. All their senses were in a state of
hallucination, conveying intolerable acuteness to their sensations.
The presence of this filthy bedfellow kept them motionless, silent,
abstracted with anguish. Laurent, at times, thought of taking Therese
violently in his arms; but he dared not move. He said to himself that he
could not extend his hand, without getting it full of the soft flesh of
Camille. Next he fancied that the drowned man came to sleep between
them so as to prevent them clasping one another, and he ended by
understanding that Camille was jealous.
Nevertheless, ever and anon, they sought to exchange a timid kiss, to
see what would happen. The young man jeered at his wife, and ordered
her to embrace him. But their lips were so cold that it seemed as if
the dead man had got between their mouths. Both felt disgusted. Therese
shuddered with horror, and Laurent who heard her teeth chattering,
railed at her:
"Why are you trembling?" he exclaimed.
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