Awaiting the moment when they would be alone,
became more and more cruel as the evening advanced. On Thursday night,
on the contrary, they were giddy with folly, one forgot the presence of
the other, and they suffered less. Therese ended by heartily longing for
the reception days. Had Michaud and Grivet not arrived, she would have
gone and fetched them. When strangers were in the dining-room, between
herself and Laurent, she felt more calm. She would have liked to always
have guests there, to hear a noise, something to divert her, and detach
her from her thoughts. In the presence of other people, she displayed a
sort of nervous gaiety. Laurent also recovered his previous merriment,
returning to his coarse peasant jests, his hoarse laughter, his
practical jokes of a former canvas dauber. Never had these gatherings
been so gay and noisy.
It was thus that Laurent and Therese could remain face to face, once a
week, without shuddering.
But they were soon beset with further anxiety. Paralysis was little by
little gaining on Madame Raquin, and they foresaw the day when she
would be riveted to her armchair, feeble and doltish. The poor old lady
already began to stammer fragments of disjointed phrases; her voice was
growing weaker, and her limbs were one by one losing their vitality.
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