ght crushing refusals to her lips, but she had to remain mute and
allow Therese to plead her cause without once interrupting her.
The impossibility of crying out and stopping her ears caused her
inexpressible torture. The words of the young woman entered her mind,
slow and plaintive, as an irritating ditty. At first, she fancied the
murderers inflicted this kind of torture on her out of sheer diabolical
cruelty. Her sole means of defence was to close her eyes, as soon as her
niece knelt before her, then although she heard, she did not see her.

Therese, at last, had the impudence to kiss her aunt. One day, in a fit
of repentance, she feigned she had perceived a gleam of mercy in the
eyes of the paralysed woman; and she dragged herself along on her knees,
she raised herself up, exclaiming in a distracted tone:

"You forgive me! You forgive me!"

Then she kissed the forehead and cheeks of the poor old creature, who
was unable to throw her head backward so as to avoid the embrace. The
cold skin on which Therese placed her lips, caused her violent disgust.
She fancied this disgust, like the tears of remorse, would be an
excellent remedy to appease her nerves; and she continued to kiss the
impotent old woman daily, by way of penitence, and also to relieve
herself.

"Oh! How good you are!" she sometimes exclaimed. "I can see my tears
have touched you. Your eyes are full of pity. I am saved."

Then she smothered her with caresses, placing the head of the infirm
old lady on her knees, kissing her hands, smiling at her happily,
and attending to all her requirements with a display of passionate
affection. After a time, she believed in the reality of this comedy,
she imagined she had obtained the pardon of Madame Raquin, and spoke of
nothing but the delight she experienced at having secured her pardon.

This was too much for the paralysed woman. It almost killed her. At the
kisses of her niece, she again felt that sensation of bitter repugnance
and rage which came over her, morning and night, when Laurent took her
in his arms to lift her up, or lay her down. She was obliged to submit
to the disgusting caresses of the wretch who had betrayed and killed her
son. She could not even use her hand to wipe away the kisses that this
woman left on her cheeks; and, for hours and hours together, she felt
these kisses burning her.

She became the doll of the murderers of Camille, a doll that they
dressed, that they turned to right and