e this gentleman?"

The old mercer looked at the strapping blade, seeking among her
recollections and finding nothing, while Therese placidly observed the
scene.

"What!" resumed Camille, "you don't recognise Laurent, little Laurent,
the son of daddy Laurent who owns those beautiful fields of corn out
Jeufosse way. Don't you remember? I went to school with him; he came
to fetch me of a morning on leaving the house of his uncle, who was our
neighbour, and you used to give him slices of bread and jam."

All at once Madame Raquin recollected little Laurent, whom she found
very much grown. It was quite ten years since she had seen him. She now
did her best to make him forget her lapse of memory in greeting him,
by recalling a thousand little incidents of the past, and by adopting a
wheedling manner towards him that was quite maternal. Laurent had seated
himself. With a peaceful smile on his lips, he replied to the questions
addressed to him in a clear voice, casting calm and easy glances around
him.

"Just imagine," said Camille, "this joker has been employed at the
Orleans-Railway-Station for eighteen months, and it was only to-night
that we met and recognised one another--the administration is so vast,
so important!"

As the young man made this remark, he opened his eyes wider, and pinched
his lips, proud to be a humble wheel in such a large machine. Shaking
his head, he continued:

"Oh! but he is in a good position. He has studied. He already earns
1,500 francs a year. His father sent him to college. He had read for the
bar, and learnt painting. That is so, is it not, Laurent? You'll dine
with us?"

"I am quite willing," boldly replied the other.

He got rid of his hat and made himself comfortable in the shop,
while Madame Raquin ran off to her stewpots. Therese, who had not yet
pronounced a word, looked at the new arrival. She had never seen such a
man before. Laurent, who was tall and robust, with a florid complexion,
astonished her. It was with a feeling akin to admiration, that she
contemplated his low forehead planted with coarse black hair, his full
cheeks, his red lips, his regular features of sanguineous beauty. For
an instant her eyes rested on his neck, a neck that was thick and short,
fat and powerful. Then she became lost in the contemplation of his great
hands which he kept spread out on his knees: the fingers were square;
the clenched fist must be enormous and would fell an ox.

Laurent was a re