ed extraordinary
pleasure in deceiving Camille and Madame Raquin. She was aware she was
doing wrong, and at times she felt a ferocious desire to rise from table
and smother Laurent with kisses, just to show her husband and aunt that
she was not a fool, and that she had a sweetheart.

At moments, she felt giddy with joy; good actress as she proved
herself, she could not on such occasions refrain from singing, when her
sweetheart did not happen to be there, and she had no fear of betraying
herself. These sudden outbursts of gaiety charmed Madame Raquin, who
taxed her niece with being too serious. The young woman, moreover,
decked the window of her room with pots of flowers, and then had new
paper hung in the apartment. After this she wanted a carpet, curtains
and rosewood furniture.

The nature of the circumstances seemed to have made this woman for this
man, and to have thrust one towards the other. The two together, the
woman nervous and hypocritical, the man sanguineous and leading the
life of a brute, formed a powerful couple allied. The one completed the
other, and they mutually protected themselves. At night, at table, in
the pale light of the lamp, one felt the strength of their union, at
the sight of the heavy, smiling face of Laurent, opposite the mute,
impenetrable mask of Therese.

Those evenings were pleasant and calm. In the silence, in the
transparent shadow and cool atmosphere, arose friendly conversation.
The family and their guest sat close together round the table. After
the dessert, they chatted about a thousand trifles of the day, about
incidents that had occurred the day before, about their hopes for the
morrow.

Camille liked Laurent, as much as he was capable of liking anybody,
after the fashion of a contented egotist, and Laurent seemed to show him
equal attachment. Between them there was an exchange of kind sentences,
of obliging gestures, and thoughtful attentions. Madame Raquin, with
placid countenance, contributed her peacefulness to the tranquillity
of the scene, which resembled a gathering of old friends who knew one
another to the heart, and who confidently relied on the faith of their
friendship.

Therese, motionless, peaceful like the others, observed this joy, this
smiling depression of these people of the middle class, and in her heart
there was savage laughter; all her being jeered, but her face maintained
its frigid rigidity. Ah! how she deceived these worthy people, and how
del