streets. He then prepared to watch her again. A fixed idea
got into his head: Therese, driven to extremities by suffering, was
about to make disclosures, and he must gag her, he must arrest her
confession in her throat.

CHAPTER XXXI

One morning, Laurent, instead of going to his studio, took up a position
at a wine-shop situated at one of the corners of the Rue Guenegaud,
opposite the studio. From there, he began to examine the persons who
issued from the passage on to the pavement of the Rue Mazarine. He
was watching for Therese. The previous evening, the young woman had
mentioned that she intended going out next day and probably would not be
home until evening.

Laurent waited fully half an hour. He knew that his wife always went by
the Rue Mazarine; nevertheless, at one moment, he remembered that she
might escape him by taking the Rue de Seine, and he thought of returning
to the arcade, and concealing himself in the corridor of the house. But
he determined to retain his seat a little longer, and just as he was
growing impatient he suddenly saw Therese come rapidly from the passage.

She wore a light gown, and, for the first time, he noticed that her
attire appeared remarkably showy, like a street-walker. She twisted
her body about on the pavement, staring provokingly at the men who came
along, and raising her skirt, which she clutched in a bunch in her hand,
much higher than any respectable woman would have done, in order
to display her lace-up boots and stockings. As she went up the Rue
Mazarine, Laurent followed her.

It was mild weather, and the young woman walked slowly, with her head
thrown slightly backward and her hair streaming down her back. The men
who had first of all stared her in the face, turned round to take a
back view. She passed into the Rue de l'Ecole de Medecine. Laurent
was terrified. He knew that somewhere in this neighbourhood, was a
Commissariat of Police, and he said to himself that there could no
longer be any doubt as to the intentions of his wife, she was certainly
about to denounce him. Then he made up his mind to rush after her, if
she crossed the threshold of the commissariat, to implore her, to beat
her if necessary, so as to compel her to hold her tongue. At a street
corner she looked at a policeman who came along, and Laurent trembled
with fright, lest she should stop and speak to him. In terror of being
arrested on the spot if he showed himself, he hid in a doorway.

Th