It was like
an everlasting reproach wandering through the house. Then he feared that
repentance would one day drive his wife to reveal everything. He would
have preferred her to remain rigid and threatening, bitterly defending
herself against his accusations. But she had changed her tactics. She
now readily recognised the share she had taken in the crime. She even
accused herself. She had become yielding and timid, and starting from
this point implored redemption with ardent humility. This attitude
irritated Laurent, and every evening the quarrels of the couple became
more afflicting and sinister.
"Listen to me," said Therese to her husband, "we are very guilty. We
must repent if we wish to enjoy tranquillity. Look at me. Since I have
been weeping I am more peaceable. Imitate me. Let us say together that
we are justly punished for having committed a horrible crime."
"Bah!" roughly answered Laurent, "you can say what you please. I know
you are deucedly clever and hypocritical. Weep, if that diverts you. But
I must beg you not to worry me with your tears."
"Ah!" said she, "you are bad. You reject remorse. You are cowardly. You
acted as a traitor to Camille."
"Do you mean to say that I alone am guilty?" he inquired.
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