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 peculi