Authors: Émile Zola
The following morning, Michaud and his old friend had a short
conversation in the arcade, before the door of the shop, where they
communicated to one another the result of their efforts, and agreed to
hurry matters on by forcing the young people to become affianced the
same evening.
At five o'clock, Michaud was already in the shop when Laurent entered.
As soon as the young man had seated himself, the former commissary of
police said in his ear:
"She accepts."
This blunt remark was overheard by Therese who remained pale, with her
eyes impudently fixed on Laurent. The two sweethearts looked at each
other for a few seconds as if consulting. Both understood that they must
accept the position without hesitation, and finish the business at one
stroke. Laurent, rising, went and took the hand of Madame Raquin, who
made every effort to restrain her tears.
"Dear mother," said he smiling, "I was talking about your felicity, last
night, with M. Michaud. Your children wish to make you happy."
The poor old lady, on hearing herself called "dear mother," allowed her
tears to flow. She quietly seized the hand of Therese and placed it in
that of Laurent, unable to utter a single word.
The two sweethearts shivered on feeling their skins touch, and remained
with their burning fingers pressed together, in a nervous clasp. After a
pause, the young man, in a hesitating tone, resumed:
"Therese, shall we give your aunt a bright and peaceful existence?"
"Yes," feebly replied the young woman, "we have a duty to perform."
Then Laurent, becoming very pale, turned towards Madame Raquin, and
added:
"When Camille fell into the water, he shouted out to me: 'Save my wife,
I entrust her to you.' I believe I am acting in accordance with his last
wish in marrying Therese."
Therese, on hearing these words, let go the hand of Laurent. She
had received a shock like a blow in the chest. The impudence of her
sweetheart overwhelmed her. She observed him with a senseless look,
while Madame Raquin, half stifled by sobs, stammered:
"Yes, yes, my friend, marry her, make her happy; my son, from the depth
of his tomb, will thank you."
Laurent, feeling himself giving way, leant on the back of a chair, while
Michaud, who was himself moved to tears, pushed him towards Therese with
the remark:
"Kiss one another. It will be your betrothal."
When the lips of the young man came in contact with the cheeks of the
widow, he experienced a peculiarly uncomfortable feeling, while the
latter abruptly drew back, as if the two kisses of her sweetheart burnt
her. This was the first caress he had given her in the presence of
witnesses. All her blood rushed to her face, and she felt herself red
and burning.
After this crisis, the two murderers breathed. Their marriage was
decided on. At last they approached the goal they had so long had in
view. Everything was settled the same evening. The Thursday following,
the marriage was announced to Grivet, as well as to Olivier and his
wife. Michaud, in communicating the news to them, did not conceal his
delight. He rubbed his hands, repeating as he did so:
"It was I who thought of it. It is I who have married them. You will see
what a nice couple they'll make!"
Suzanne silently embraced Therese. This poor creature, who was half
dead, and as white as a sheet, had formed a friendship for the rigid and
sombre young widow. She showed her a sort of childlike affection mingled
with a kind of respectful terror. Olivier complimented the aunt and
niece, while Grivet hazarded a few spicy jokes that met with middling
success. Altogether the company were delighted, enchanted, and declared
that everything was for the best; in reality all they thought about was
the wedding feast.
Therese and Laurent were clever enough to maintain a suitable demeanour,
by simply displaying tender and obliging friendship to one another. They
gave themselves an air of accomplishing an act of supreme devotedness.
Nothing in their faces betrayed a suspicion of the terror and desire
that disturbed them. Madame Raquin watched the couple with faint smiles,
and a look of feeble, but grateful goodwill.
A few formalities required fulfilling. Laurent had to write to his
father to ask his consent to the marriage. The old peasant of Jeufosse
who had almost forgotten that he had a son at Paris, answered him, in
four lines, that he could marry, and go and get hanged if he chose. He
gave him to understand that being resolved never to give him a sou,
he left him master of his body, and authorised him to be guilty of all
imaginable follies. A permission accorded in such terms, caused Laurent
singular anxiety.
Madame Raquin, after reading the letter of this unnatural father, in a
transport of kind-heartedness, acted very foolishly. She made over to
her niece the 40,000 francs and more, that she possessed, stripping
herself entirely for the young couple, on whose affection she relied,
with the desire of being indebted to them for all her happiness.
Laurent brought nothing into the community, and he even gave it to
be understood that he did not always intend to remain in his present
employment, but would perhaps take up painting again. In any case, the
future of the little family was assured; the interest on the money put
aside added to the profit on the mercery business, would be sufficient
to keep three persons comfortably. As a matter of fact it was only just
sufficient to make them happy.
The preparations for the marriage were hurried on, the formalities being
abridged as much as possible, and at last the welcome day arrived.
In the morning, Laurent and Therese, awoke in their respective rooms,
with the same feeling of profound joy in their hearts: both said to
themselves that their last night of terror had passed. They would no
longer have to sleep alone, and they would mutually defend themselves
against the drowned man.
Therese looked around her, giving a strange smile as she measured her
great bed with her eyes. She rose and began to slowly dress herself, in
anticipation of the arrival of Suzanne, who was to come and assist her
with her bridal toilet.
Laurent, on awakening, sat up in bed, and remained in that position for
a few minutes, bidding farewell to his garret, which struck him as vile.
At last he was to quit this kennel and have a wife. It was in the month
of December and he shivered. He sprang on the tile floor, saying to
himself that he would be warm at night.
A week previously, Madame Raquin, knowing how short he was of money, had
slipped a purse into his hand containing 500 francs, which represented
all her savings. The young man had accepted this present without
difficulty, and had rigged himself out from tip to toe. Moreover, the
money of the old mercer permitted him to make Therese the customary
presents.
The black trousers, dress coat, white waistcoat, shirt and cambric tie,
hung spread out on a couple of chairs. Laurent washed, perfumed himself
with a bottle of eau de Cologne, and then proceeded to carefully attire
himself. He wished to look handsome. As he fastened his collar, a collar
which was high and stiff, he experienced keen pain in the neck. The
button escaped from his fingers. He lost patience. The starched linen
seemed to cut into his flesh. Wishing to see what was the matter, he
raised his chin, and perceived the bite Camille had given him looking
quite red. The collar had slightly galled the scar.
Laurent pressed his lips together, and turned pale; the sight of this
mark seaming his neck, frightened and irritated him at this moment. He
crumpled up the collar, and selected another which he put on with every
precaution, and then finished dressing himself. As he went downstairs
his new clothes made him look rigid. With his neck imprisoned in the
inflexible linen, he dared not turn his head. At every movement he made,
a pleat pinched the wound that the teeth of the drowned man had made in
his flesh, and it was under the irritation of these sharp pricks, that
he got into the carriage, and went to fetch Therese to conduct her to
the town-hall and church.
On the way, he picked up a clerk employed at the Orleans Railway
Company, and old Michaud, who were to act as witnesses. When they
reached the shop, everyone was ready: Grivet and Olivier, the witnesses
of Therese, were there, along with Suzanne, who looked at the bride as
little girls look at dolls they have just dressed up. Although Madame
Raquin was no longer able to walk, she desired to accompany the couple
everywhere, so she was hoisted into a conveyance and the party set out.
Everything passed off in a satisfactory manner at the town-hall and
church. The calm and modest attitude of the bride and bridegroom was
remarked and approved. They pronounced the sacramental "yes" with an
emotion that moved Grivet himself. They were as if in a dream. Whether
seated, or quietly kneeling side by side, they were rent by raging
thoughts that flashed through their minds in spite of themselves, and
they avoided looking at one another. When they seated themselves in
their carriage, they seemed to be greater strangers than before.
It had been decided that the wedding feast should be a family affair
at a little restaurant on the heights of Belleville. The Michauds and
Grivet alone were invited. Until six in the evening, the wedding party
drove along the boulevards, and then repaired to the cheap eating-house
where a table was spread with seven covers in a small private room
painted yellow, and reeking of dust and wine.
The repast was not accompanied by much gaiety. The newly married pair
were grave and thoughtful. Since the morning, they had been experiencing
strange sensations, which they did not seek to fathom. From the
commencement, they had felt bewildered at the rapidity with which
the formalities and ceremony were performed, that had just bound them
together for ever.
Then, the long drive on the boulevards had soothed them and made them
drowsy. It appeared to them that this drive lasted months. Nevertheless,
they allowed themselves to be taken through the monotonous streets
without displaying impatience, looking at the shops and people with
sparkless eyes, overcome by a numbness that made them feel stupid, and
which they endeavoured to shake off by bursting into fits of laughter.
When they entered the restaurant, they were weighed down by oppressive
fatigue, while increasing stupor continued to settle on them.
Placed at table opposite one another, they smiled with an air of
constraint, and then fell into the same heavy reverie as before, eating,
answering questions, moving their limbs like machines. Amidst the idle
lassitude of their minds, the same string of flying thoughts returned
ceaselessly. They were married, and yet unconscious of their new
condition, which caused them profound astonishment. They imagined an
abyss still separated them, and at moments asked themselves how they
could get over this unfathomable depth. They fancied they were living
previous to the murder, when a material obstacle stood between them.
Then they abruptly remembered they would occupy the same apartment that
night, in a few hours, and they gazed at one another in astonishment,
unable to comprehend why they should be permitted to do so. They did not
feel they were united, but, on the contrary, were dreaming that they had
just been violently separated, and one cast far from the other.
The silly chuckling of the guests beside them, who wished to hear them
talk familiarly, so as to dispel all restraint, made them stammer and
colour. They could never make up their minds to treat one another as
sweethearts in the presence of company.
Waiting had extinguished the flame that had formerly fired them. All
the past had disappeared. They had forgotten their violent passion,
they forgot even their joy of the morning, that profound joy they had
experienced at the thought that they would no more be afraid. They were
simply wearied and bewildered at all that was taking place. The
events of the day turned round and round in their heads, appearing
incomprehensible and monstrous. They sat there mute and smiling,
expecting nothing, hoping for nothing. Mingled with their dejection of
spirits, was a restless anxiety that proved vaguely painful.
At every movement Laurent made with his neck, he felt a sharp burn
devouring his flesh; his collar cut and pinched the bite of Camille.
While the mayor read out to him the law bearing on marriage, while the
priest spoke to him of the Almighty, at every minute of this long day,
he had felt the teeth of the drowned man entering his skin. At times,
he imagined a streak of blood was running down his chest, and would
bespatter his white waistcoat with crimson.
Madame Raquin was inwardly grateful to the newly married couple for
their gravity. Noisy joy would have wounded the poor mother. In her
mind, her son was there, invisible, handing Therese over to Laurent.
Grivet had other ideas. He considered the wedding party sad, and wanted
to enliven it, notwithstanding the looks of Michaud and Olivier which
riveted him to his chair each time he wished to get up and say something
silly. Nevertheless, he managed to rise once and propose a toast.
"I drink to the offspring of monsieur and madame," quoth he in a
sprightly tone.
It was necessary to touch glasses. Therese and Laurent had turned
extremely pale on hearing this sentence. They had never dreamed that
they might have children. The thought flashed through them like an icy
shiver. They nervously joined glasses with the others, examining one
another, surprised and alarmed to find themselves there, face to face.
The party rose from table early. The guests wished to accompany the
newly married pair to the nuptial chamber. It was barely half-past
nine when they all returned to the shop in the arcade. The dealer in
imitation jewelry was still there in her cupboard, before the box lined
with blue velvet. She raised her head inquisitively, gazing at the
young husband and wife with a smile. The latter caught her eyes, and was
terrified. It struck her that perhaps this old woman was aware of their
former meetings, by having noticed Laurent slipping into the little
corridor.