impoverished by illness, had remained
a little boy in the eyes of his cousin. He kissed her as he kissed his
mother, by habit, without losing any of his egotistic tranquillity. He
looked upon her as an obliging comrade who helped him to amuse himself,
and who, if occasion offered, prepared him an infusion. When playing
with her, when he held her in his arms, it was as if he had a boy to
deal with. He experienced no thrill, and at these moments the idea
had never occurred to him of planting a warm kiss on her lips as she
struggled with a nervous laugh to free herself.

The girl also seemed to have remained cold and indifferent. At times
her great eyes rested on Camille and fixedly gazed at him with sovereign
calm. On such occasions her lips alone made almost imperceptible little
motions. Nothing could be read on her expressionless countenance, which
an inexorable will always maintained gentle and attentive. Therese
became grave when the conversation turned to her marriage, contenting
herself with approving all that Madame Raquin said by a sign of the
head. Camille went to sleep.

On summer evenings, the two young people ran to the edge of the water.
Camille, irritated at the incessant attentions of his mother, at times
broke out in open revolt. He wished to run about and make himself ill,
to escape the fondling that disgusted him. He would then drag Therese
along with him, provoking her to wrestle, to roll in the grass. One day,
having pushed his cousin down, the young girl bounded to her feet with
all the savageness of a wild beast, and, with flaming face and bloodshot
eyes, fell upon him with clenched fists. Camille in fear sank to the
ground.

Months and years passed by, and at length the day fixed for the marriage
arrived. Madame Raquin took Therese apart, spoke to her of her father
and mother, and related to her the story of her birth. The young girl
listened to her aunt, and when she had finished speaking, kissed her,
without answering a word.

At night, Therese, instead of going into her own room, which was on
the left of the staircase, entered that of her cousin which was on the
right. This was all the change that occurred in her mode of life. The
following day, when the young couple came downstairs, Camille had
still his sickly languidness, his righteous tranquillity of an egotist.
Therese still maintained her gentle indifference, and her restrained
expression of frightful calmness.

CHAPTER III

A w