"
"You loved him! Ah! Really what a capital idea," exclaimed Laurent. "And
no doubt it was because you loved your husband, that you took me as a
sweetheart. I remember one day when we were together, that you told me
Camille disgusted you, when you felt the end of your fingers enter his
flesh as if it were soft clay. Oh! I know why you loved me. You required
more vigorous arms than those of that poor devil."
"I loved him as a sister," answered Therese. "He was the son of my
benefactress. He had all the delicate feelings of a feeble man. He
showed himself noble and generous, serviceable and loving. And we killed
him, good God! good God!"
She wept, and swooned away. Madame Raquin cast piercing glances at her,
indignant to hear the praise of Camille sung by such a pair of lips.
Laurent who was unable to do anything against this overflow of tears,
walked to and fro with furious strides, searching in his head for some
means to stifle the remorse of Therese.
All the good he heard said of his victim ended by causing him poignant
anxiety. Now and again he let himself be caught by the heartrending
accents of his wife. He really believed in the virtues of Camille, and
his terror redoubled.
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