turned her head following the movements of the young widow
with her eyes, while the latter came and stood before her, mute and
oppressed. The two women contemplated one another for some seconds, the
niece with increasing anxiety, the aunt with painful efforts of memory.
Madame Raquin, at last remembering, stretched out her trembling arms,
and, taking Therese by the neck, exclaimed:

"My poor child, my poor Camille!"

She wept, and her tears dried on the burning skin of the young widow,
who concealed her own dry eyes in the folds of the sheet. Therese
remained bending down, allowing the old mother to exhaust her outburst
of grief. She had dreaded this first interview ever since the murder;
and had kept in bed to delay it, to reflect at ease on the terrible part
she had to play.

When she perceived Madame Raquin more calm, she busied herself about
her, advising her to rise, and go down to the shop. The old mercer
had almost fallen into dotage. The abrupt apparition of her niece had
brought about a favourable crisis that had just restored her memory, and
the consciousness of things and beings around her. She thanked Suzanne
for her attention. Although weakened, she talked, and had ceased
wandering, but she spoke in a voice so full of sadness that at moments
she was half choked. She watched the movements of Therese with sudden
fits of tears; and would then call her to the bedside, and embrace her
amid more sobs, telling her in a suffocating tone that she, now, had
nobody but her in the world.

In the evening, she consented to get up, and make an effort to eat.
Therese then saw what a terrible shock her aunt had received. The legs
of the old lady had become so ponderous that she required a stick to
assist her to drag herself into the dining-room, and there she thought
the walls were vacillating around her.

Nevertheless, the following day she wished the shop to be opened. She
feared she would go mad if she continued to remain alone in her room.
She went down the wooden staircase with heavy tread, placing her two
feet on each step, and seated herself behind the counter. From that day
forth, she remained riveted there in placid affliction.

Therese, beside her, mused and waited. The shop resumed its gloomy calm.

CHAPTER XV

Laurent resumed calling of an evening, every two or three days,
remaining in the shop talking to Madame Raquin for half an hour. Then
he went off without looking Therese in the face. The old