e useless to
them he desired her death. He would not have killed her, but as she
wished to die, he did not see the use of depriving her of the means to
do so.

"But, let her be!" he shouted to his wife. "It will be a good riddance.
We shall, perhaps, be happier when she is no longer here."

This remark repeated several times in the hearing of Madame Raquin,
caused her extraordinary emotion. She feared that the hope expressed
by Laurent might be realised, and that after her death the couple would
enjoy calm and happiness. And she said to herself that it would be
cowardly to die, that she had no right to go away before she had seen
the end of the sinister adventure. Then, only, could she descend into
darkness, to say to Camille:

"You are avenged."

The idea of suicide became oppressive, when she all at once reflected
that she would sink into the grave ignorant as to what had happened
to the two murderers of her son. There, she would lie in the cold
and silent earth, eternally tormented by uncertainty concerning the
punishment of her tormentors. To thoroughly enjoy the slumber of death,
she must be hushed to rest by the sweet delight of vengeance, she must
carry away with her a dream of satisfied hatred, a dream that would last
throughout eternity. So she took the food her niece presented to her,
and consented to live on.

Apart from this, it was easy for her to perceive that the climax could
not be far off. Each day the position of the married couple became
more strained and unbearable. A crash that would smash everything was
imminent. At every moment, Therese and Laurent started up face to face
in a more threatening manner. It was no longer at nighttime, alone,
that they suffered from their intimacy; entire days were passed amidst
anxiety and harrowing shocks. It was one constant scene of pain and
terror. They lived in a perfect pandemonium, fighting, rendering all
they did and said bitter and cruel, seeking to fling one another to the
bottom of the abyss which they felt beneath their feet, and falling into
it together.

Ideas of separation had, indeed, occurred to both of them. Each had
thought of flight, of seeking some repose far from this Arcade of the
Pont Neuf where the damp and filth seemed adapted to their desolated
life. But they dared not, they could not run away. It seemed impossible
for them to avoid reviling each other, to avoid remaining there to
suffer and cause pain. They proved obstinate in thei