ted about the weather, endeavouring to force on a commonplace
conversation. Laurent said the room was warm, and Therese replied that,
nevertheless, a draught came from under the small door on the staircase,
and both turned in that direction with a sudden shudder. The young man
hastened to speak about the roses, the fire, about everything he saw
before him. The young woman, with an effort, rejoined in monosyllables,
so as not to allow the conversation to drop. They had drawn back from
one another, and were giving themselves easy airs, endeavouring to
forget whom they were, treating one another as strangers brought
together by chance.

But, in spite of themselves, by a strange phenomenon, whilst they
uttered these empty phrases, they mutually guessed the thoughts
concealed in their banal words. Do what they would, they both thought
of Camille. Their eyes continued the story of the past. They still
maintained by looks a mute discourse, apart from the conversation they
held aloud, which ran haphazard. The words they cast here and there
had no signification, being disconnected and contradictory; all their
intelligence was bent on the silent exchange of their terrifying
recollections.

When Laurent spoke of the roses, or of the fire, of one thing or
another, Therese was perfectly well aware that he was reminding her
of the struggle in the skiff, of the dull fall of Camille; and, when
Therese answered yes or no to an insignificant question, Laurent
understood that she said she remembered or did not remember a detail of
the crime. They charted it in this manner open-heartedly without needing
words, while they spoke aloud of other matters.

Moreover, unconscious of the syllables they pronounced, they followed
their secret thoughts sentence by sentence; they might abruptly have
continued their confidences aloud, without ceasing to understand each
other. This sort of divination, this obstinacy of their memory in
presenting to themselves without pause, the image of Camille, little
by little drove them crazy. They thoroughly well perceived that they
guessed the thoughts of one another, and that if they did not hold their
tongues, the words would rise of themselves to their mouths, to name the
drowned man, and describe the murder. Then they closely pinched their
lips and ceased their conversation.

In the overwhelming silence that ensued, the two murderers continued
to converse about their victim. It appeared to them that their e