ho shuddered as soon as dusk set in, and a
torpid forgetful being, who breathed at ease when the sun rose. They
lived two lives, crying out in anguish when alone, and peacefully
smiling in company. Never did their faces, in public, show the slightest
trace of the sufferings that had reached them in private. They appeared
calm and happy, and instinctively concealed their troubles.

To see them so tranquil in the daytime, no one would have suspected
the hallucinations that tortured them every night. They would have been
taken for a couple blessed by heaven, and living in the enjoyment of
full felicity. Grivet gallantly called them the "turtle-doves." When
he jested about their fatigued looks, Laurent and Therese barely turned
pale, and even succeeded in forcing on a smile. They became accustomed
to the naughty jokes of the old clerk.

So long as they remained in the dining-room, they were able to keep
their terror under control. The mind could not imagine the frightful
change that came over them, as soon as they were shut up in their
bedroom. On the Thursday night, particularly, this transformation was
so violently brutal, that it seemed as if accomplished in a supernatural
world. The drama in the bedroom, by its strangeness, by its savage
passion, surpassed all belief, and remained deeply concealed within
their aching beings. Had they spoken of it, they would have been taken
for mad.

"How happy those sweethearts are!" frequently remarked old Michaud.
"They hardly say a word, but that does not prevent them thinking. I bet
they devour one another with kisses when we have gone."

Such was the opinion of the company. Therese and Laurent came to be
spoken of as a model couple. All the tenants in the Arcade of the Pont
Neuf extolled the affection, the tranquil happiness, the everlasting
honeymoon of the married pair. They alone knew that the corpse of
Camille slept between them; they alone felt, beneath the calm exterior
of their faces, the nervous contractions that, at night, horribly
distorted their features, and changed the placid expression of their
physiognomies into hideous masks of pain.

CHAPTER XXV

At the expiration of four months, Laurent thought of taking advantage
of the profit he had calculated on deriving from his marriage. He would
have abandoned his wife, and fled from the spectre of Camille, three
days after the wedding, had not his interest detained him at the shop in
the arcade. He accepted his