Since Madame Raquin had become aware of the horrible secret, she had
been awaiting this evening with feverish impatience. She had gathered
together all her remaining strength to denounce the culprits. Up to the
last moment, she feared she would not be present at the gathering; she
thought Laurent would make her disappear, perhaps kill her, or at least
shut her up in her own apartment. When she saw that her niece and nephew
allowed her to remain in the dining-room, she experienced lively joy at
the thought of attempting to avenge her son.
Aware that her tongue was powerless, she resorted to a new kind of
language. With astonishing power of will, she succeeded, in a measure,
in galvanising her right hand, in slightly raising it from her knee,
where it always lay stretched out, inert; she then made it creep little
by little up one of the legs of the table before her, and thus succeeded
in placing it on the oilcloth table cover. Then, she feebly agitated the
fingers as if to attract attention.
When the players perceived this lifeless hand, white and nerveless,
before them, they were exceedingly surprised. Grivet stopped short,
with his arm in the air, at the moment when he was about to play the
double-six.
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