Thérèse Raquin by Émile Zola Page A

He had taken too many holidays
already, and the authorities had decided to dismiss him if he again went
out in office hours.
    Riveted to his chair, he remained in despair until eventide. He had to
earn his living, and dared not lose his place. At night the wrathful
countenance of Therese was a torture to him, and he was unable to find
an opportunity to explain to her how it was he had broken his word. At
length, as Camille was putting up the shutters, he briskly approached
the young woman, to murmur in an undertone:
    "We shall be unable to see one another any more. My chief refuses to
give me permission to go out."
    Camille came into the shop, and Laurent was obliged to withdraw without
giving any further information, leaving Therese under the disagreeable
influence of this abrupt and unpleasant announcement. Exasperated at
anyone daring to interfere with her delectation, she passed a sleepless
night, arranging extravagant plans for a meeting with her sweetheart.
The following Thursday, she spoke with Laurent for a minute at the most.
Their anxiety was all the keener as they did not know where to meet
for the purpose of consulting and coming to an understanding. The young
woman, on this occasion, gave her sweetheart another appointment which
for the second time he failed to keep, and she then had but one fixed
idea—to see him at any cost.
    For a fortnight Laurent was unable to speak to Therese alone, and he
then felt how necessary this woman had become to his existence. Far
from experiencing any uneasiness, as formerly, at the kisses which his
ladylove showered on him, he now sought her embraces with the obstinacy
of a famished animal. A sanguineous passion had lurked in his muscles,
and now that his sweetheart was taken from him, this passion burst out
in blind violence. He was madly in love. This thriving brutish nature
seemed unconscious in everything. He obeyed his instincts, permitting
the will of his organism to lead him.
    A year before, he would have burst into laughter, had he been told
he would become the slave of a woman, to the point of risking his
tranquillity. The hidden forces of lust that had brought about this
result had been secretly proceeding within him, to end by casting him,
bound hand and foot, into the arms of Therese. At this hour, he was in
dread lest he should omit to be prudent. He no longer dared go of an
evening to the shop in the Arcade of the Pont Neuf lest he should commit
some folly. He no longer belonged to himself. His ladylove, with her
feline suppleness, her nervous flexibility, had glided, little by
little, into each fibre of his body. This woman was as necessary to his
life as eating and drinking.
    He would certainly have committed some folly, had he not received a
letter from Therese, asking him to remain at home the following evening.
His sweetheart promised him to call about eight o'clock.
    On quitting the office, he got rid of Camille by saying he was tired,
and should go to bed at once. Therese, after dinner, also played her
part. She mentioned a customer who had moved without paying her, and
acting the indignant creditor who would listen to nothing, declared that
she intended calling on her debtor with the view of asking for payment
of the money that was due. The customer now lived at Batignolles. Madame
Raquin and Camille considered this a long way to go, and thought it
doubtful whether the journey would have a satisfactory result; but they
expressed no surprise, and allowed Therese to set out on her errand in
all tranquillity.
    The young woman ran to the Port aux Vins, gliding over the slippery
pavement, and knocking up against the passers-by, in her hurry to reach
her destination. Beads of perspiration covered her face, and her hands
were burning. Anyone might have taken her for a drunken woman. She
rapidly ascended the staircase of the hotel, and on reaching the sixth
floor, out of breath, and with wandering eyes, she perceived Laurent,
who was leaning over the banister