She reposed in
an armchair, like a parcel, a thing, while they remained alone, one
at each end of the table, embarrassed and anxious. This body no longer
separated them; at times they forgot it, confounding it with the
articles of furniture.
They were now seized with the same terror as at night. The dining-room
became, like the bedroom, a terrible spot, where the spectre of Camille
arose, causing them to suffer an extra four or five hours daily. As soon
as twilight came, they shuddered, lowering the lamp-shade so as not to
see one another, and endeavouring to persuade themselves that Madame
Raquin was about to speak and thus remind them of her presence. If they
kept her with them, if they did not get rid of her, it was because her
eyes were still alive, and they experienced a little relief in watching
them move and sparkle.
They always placed the impotent old lady in the bright beam of the lamp,
so as to thoroughly light up her face and have it always before them.
This flabby, livid countenance would have been a sight that others
could not have borne, but Therese and Laurent experienced such need for
company, that they gazed upon it with real joy.
This face looked like that of a dead person in the centre of which two
living eyes had been fixed.
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