what would become of them.

CHAPTER XXIV

In accordance with the hopes of old Michaud, when doing his best to
bring about the marriage of Therese and Laurent, the Thursday evenings
resumed their former gaiety, as soon as the wedding was over.

These evenings were in great peril at the time of the death of Camille.
The guests came, in fear, into this house of mourning; each week they
were trembling with anxiety, lest they should be definitely dismissed.

The idea that the door of the shop would no doubt at last be closed to
them, terrified Michaud and Grivet, who clung to their habits with the
instinct and obstinacy of brutes. They said to themselves that the old
woman and young widow would one day go and weep over the defunct at
Vernon or elsewhere, and then, on Thursday nights, they would not know
what to do. In the mind's eye they saw themselves wandering about the
arcade in a lamentable fashion, dreaming of colossal games at dominoes.

Pending the advent of these bad times, they timidly enjoyed their final
moments of happiness, arriving with an anxious, sugary air at the shop,
and repeating to themselves, on each occasion, that they would perhaps
return no more. For over a year they were beset with these fears. In
face of the tears of Madame Raquin and the silence of Therese, they
dared not make themselves at ease and laugh. They felt they were no
longer at home as in the time of Camille; it seemed, so to say, that
they were stealing every evening they passed seated at the dining-room
table. It was in these desperate circumstances that the egotism of
Michaud urged him to strike a masterly stroke by finding a husband for
the widow of the drowned man.

On the Thursday following the marriage, Grivet and Michaud made
a triumphant entry into the dining-room. They had conquered. The
dining-room belonged to them again. They no longer feared dismissal.
They came there as happy people, stretching out their legs, and cracking
their former jokes, one after the other. It could be seen from their
delighted and confident attitude that, in their idea, a revolution had
been accomplished. All recollection of Camille had been dispelled. The
dead husband, the spectre that cast a chill over everyone, had
been driven away by the living husband. The past and its joys were
resuscitated. Laurent took the place of Camille, all cause for sadness
disappeared, the guests could now laugh without grieving anyone; and,
indeed, it was the