But they met in the street, and always decided to wait, after an
interchange of insults and ardent prayers.
Every fresh attack made them more suspicious and ferocious than before.
From morning till night they were spying upon one another. Laurent
barely set his foot outside the lodging in the arcade, and if,
perchance, he did absent himself, Therese never failed to accompany him.
Their suspicions, their fright lest either should confess, brought
them together, united them in atrocious intimacy. Never, since their
marriage, had they lived so tightly tied together, and never had they
experienced such suffering. But, notwithstanding the anguish they
imposed on themselves, they never took their eyes off one another. They
preferred to endure the most excruciating pain, rather than separate for
an hour.
If Therese went down to the shop, Laurent followed, afraid that she
might talk to a customer; if Laurent stood in the doorway, observing the
people passing through the arcade, Therese placed herself beside him to
see that he did not speak to anyone. When the guests were assembled on
Thursday evenings, the murderers addressed supplicating glances to each
other, listening to one another in terror, one accomplice expecting the
other to make some confession, and giving an involving interpretation to
sentences only just commenced.
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