ner that became more and more
hesitating.

"This is perfect. I can read it very well indeed," resumed Olivier after
an instant, and with his eyes on the married pair. "Your aunt writes
your two names: '_Therese and Laurent_.'"

The old lady made sign after sign in the affirmative, casting crushing
glances on the murderers. Then she sought to complete the sentence,
but her fingers had stiffened, the supreme will that galvanised them,
escaped her. She felt the paralysis slowly descending her arm and again
grasping her wrist. She hurried on, and traced another word.

Old Michaud read out in a loud voice:

"_Therese and Laurent have----_"

And Olivier inquired:

"What have your dear children?"

The murderers, seized with blind terror, were on the point of completing
the sentence aloud. They contemplated the avenging hand with fixed
and troubled eyes, when, all at once this hand became convulsed, and
flattened out on the table. It slipped down and fell on the knee of the
impotent woman like a lump of inanimate flesh and bone. The paralysis
had returned and arrested the punishment. Michaud and Olivier sat down
again disappointed, while Therese and Laurent experienced such keen joy
that they felt like fainting under the influence of the sudden rush of
blood that beat in their bosoms.

Grivet who felt vexed at not having been believed on trust, thought
the moment had arrived to regain his infallibility, by completing the
unfinished sentence. While every one was endeavouring to supply the
missing words, he exclaimed:

"It is quite clear. I can read the whole phrase in the eyes of the lady.
It is not necessary for her to write on the table to make me understand;
a mere look suffices. She means to say:

"Therese and Laurent have been very kind to me."

Grivet, on this occasion, had cause to be proud of his imagination, for
all the company were of his opinion; and the guests began to sing the
praises of the married couple, who were so good for the poor lady.

"It is certain," old Michaud gravely remarked, "that Madame Raquin
wishes to bear testimony to the tender affection her children lavish on
her, and this does honour to the whole family."

Then, taking up his dominoes again, he added:

"Come, let us continue. Where were we? Grivet was about to play the
double-six, I think."

Grivet played the double six, and the stupid, monotonous game went on.

The paralysed woman, cut up by frightful despair, looked at her