These eyes alone moved, rolling rapidly in
their orbits. The cheeks and mouth maintained such appalling immobility
that they seemed as though petrified. When Madame Raquin fell asleep and
lowered her lids, her countenance, which was then quite white and mute,
was really that of a corpse. Therese and Laurent, who no longer felt
anyone with them, then made a noise until the paralysed woman raised her
eyelids and looked at them. In this manner they compelled her to remain
awake.
They regarded her as a distraction that drew them from their bad dreams.
Since she had been infirm, they had to attend to her like a child. The
care they lavished on her forced them to scatter their thoughts. In the
morning Laurent lifted her up and bore her to her armchair; at night he
placed her on her bed again. She was still heavy, and he had to exert
all his strength to raise her delicately in his arms, and carry her. It
was also he who rolled her armchair along. The other attentions fell
to Therese. She dressed and fed the impotent old lady, and sought to
understand her slightest wish.
For a few days Madame Raquin preserved the use of her hands. She could
write on a slate, and in this way asked for what she required; then the
hands withered, and it became impossible for her to raise them or hold
a pencil.
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