me
powerful spring would place her on her feet; and she attempted a supreme
effort. The Almighty would not permit Laurent to press her to his bosom;
she fully anticipated he would be struck down if he displayed such
monstrous impudence. But no spring came into action, and heaven reserved
its lightning. Madame Raquin remained huddled up and passive like
a bundle of linen. She was grasped, raised and carried along by the
assassin; she experienced the anguish of feeling herself feeble and
abandoned in the arms of the murderer of Camille. Her head rolled on to
the shoulder of Laurent, whom she observed with eyes increased in volume
by horror.

"You may look at me," he murmured. "Your eyes will not eat me."

And he cast her brutally on the bed. The impotent old lady fell
unconscious on the mattress. Her last thought had been one of terror and
disgust. In future, morning and night, she would have to submit to the
vile pressure of the arms of Laurent.

CHAPTER XXVII

A shock of terror alone had made the married pair speak, and avow their
crime in the presence of Madame Raquin. Neither one nor the other was
cruel; they would have avoided such a revelation out of feelings of
humanity, had not their own security already made it imperative on their
part to maintain silence.

On the ensuing Thursday, they felt particularly anxious. In the morning,
Therese inquired of Laurent whether he considered it prudent to leave
the paralysed woman in the dining-room during the evening. She knew all
and might give the alarm.

"Bah!" replied Laurent, "it is impossible for her to raise her little
finger. How can she babble?"

"She will perhaps discover a way to do so," answered Therese. "I have
noticed an implacable thought in her eyes since the other evening."

"No," said Laurent. "You see, the doctor told me it was absolutely
all over with her. If she ever speaks again it will be in the final
death-rattle. She will not last much longer, you may be sure. It would
be stupid to place an additional load on our conscience by preventing
her being present at the gathering this evening."

Therese shuddered.

"You misunderstand me," she exclaimed. "Oh! You are right. There has
been enough crime. I meant to say that we might shut our aunt up in her
own room, pretending she was not well, and was sleeping."

"That's it," replied Laurent, "and that idiot Michaud would go straight
into the room to see his old friend, notwithstanding. It wou