At the expiration1 of four months, Laurent thought of taking advantage of the profit he had calculated on deriving2 from his marriage. He would have abandoned his wife, and fled from the spectre of Camille, three days after the wedding, had not his interest detained him at the shop in the arcade3. He accepted his nights of terror, he remained in the anguish4 that was choking him, so as not to be deprived of the benefit of his crime.
If he parted from Therese, he would again be plunged5 in poverty, and be forced to retain his post; by remaining with her, he would, on the contrary, be able to satisfy his inclination6 for idleness, and to live liberally, doing nothing, on the revenue Madame Raquin had placed in the name of his wife. Very likely he would have fled with the 40,000 francs, had he been able to realise them; but the old mercer, on the advice of Michaud, had shown the prudence7 to protect the interests of her niece in the marriage contract.
Laurent, in this manner, found himself attached to Therese by a powerful bond. As a set-off against his atrocious nights, he determined8 at least to be kept in blissful laziness, well fed, warmly clothed, and provided with the necessary cash in his pocket to satisfy his whims9. At this price alone, would he consent to sleep with the corpse10 of the drowned man.
One evening, he announced to Madame Raquin and his wife that he had sent in his resignation, and would quit his office at the end of a fortnight. Therese gave a gesture of anxiety. He hastened to add that he intended taking a small studio where he would go on with his painting. He spoke11 at length about the annoyance12 of his employment, and the broad horizons that Art opened to him. Now that he had a few sous and could make a bid for success, he wished to see whether he was not capable of great achievements.
The speech he made on this subject simply concealed14 a ferocious15 desire to resume his former studio life. Therese sat with pinched lips without replying; she had no idea of allowing Laurent to squander16 the small fortune that assured her liberty. When her husband pressed her with questions in view of obtaining her consent, she answered curtly17, giving him to understand that if he left his office, he would no longer be earning any money, and would be living entirely18 at her expense.
But, as she spoke, Laurent observed her so keenly, that he troubled her, and arrested on her lips the refusal she was about to utter. She fancied she read in the eyes of her accomplice19, this menacing threat:
"If you do not consent, I shall reveal everything."
She began to stammer20, and Madame Raquin exclaimed that the desire of her dear son was no more than what was just, and that they must give him the means to become a man of talent. The good lady spoilt Laurent as she had spoilt Camille. Quite mollified by the caresses21 the young man lavished22 on her, she belonged to him, and never failed to take his part.
It was therefore decided23 that Laurent should have a studio, and receive one hundred francs a month pocket-money. The budget of the family was arranged in this way: the profits realised in the mercery business would pay the rent of the shop and apartment, and the balance would almost suffice for the daily expenses of the family; Laurent would receive the rent of his studio and his one hundred francs a month, out of the two thousand and a few hundred francs income from the funded money, the remainder going into the general purse. In that way the capital would remain intact. This arrangement somewhat tranquillised Therese, who nevertheless made her husband swear that he would never go beyond the sum allowed him. But as to that matter, she said to herself that Laurent could not get possession of the 40,000 francs without her signature, and she was thoroughly24 determined that she would never place her name to any document.
On the morrow, Laurent took a small studio in the lower part of the Rue25 Mazarine, which his eye had been fixed26 on for a month. He did not mean to leave his office without having a refuge where he could quietly pass his days far away from Therese. At the end of the fortnight, he bade adieu to his colleagues. Grivet was stupefied at his departure. A young man, said he, who had such a brilliant future before him, a young man who in the space of four years, had reached a salary that he, Grivet, had taken twenty years to attain27! Laurent stupefied him still more, when he told him he was going to give his whole time to painting.
At last the artist installed himself in his studio, which was a sort of square loft28 about seven or eight yards long by the same breadth. The ceiling which inclined abruptly29 in a rapid slope, was pierced by a large window conveying a white raw light to the floor and blackish walls. The sounds in the street did not ascend31 so high. This silent, wan32 room, opening above on the sky, resembled a hole, or a vault33 dug out of grey clay. Laurent furnished the place anywise; he brought a couple of chairs with holes in the rush seats, a table that he set against the wall so that it might not slip down, an old kitchen dresser, his colour-box and easel; all the luxury in the place consisted of a spacious34 divan35 which he purchased for thirty francs from a second-hand36 dealer37.
He remained a fortnight without even thinking of touching38 his brushes. He arrived between eight and nine o'clock in the morning, smoked, stretched himself on the divan, and awaited noon, delighted that it was morning, and that he had many hours of daylight before him. At twelve he went to lunch. As soon as the meal was over, he hastened back, to be alone, and get away from the pale face of Therese. He next went through the process of digestion39, sleeping spread out on the divan until evening. His studio was an abode40 of peace where he did not tremble. One day his wife asked him if she might visit this dear refuge. He refused, and as, notwithstanding his refusal, she came and knocked at the door, he refrained from opening to her, telling her in the evening that he had spent the day at the Louvre Museum. He was afraid that Therese might bring the spectre of Camille with her.
Idleness ended by weighing heavily on his shoulders, so he purchased a canvas and colours, and set to work. As he had not sufficient money to pay models, he resolved to paint according to fancy, without troubling about nature, and he began the head of a man.
But at this time, he did not shut himself up so much as he had done; he worked for two or three hours every morning and passed the afternoon strolling hither and thither41 in Paris and its vicinity. It was opposite the Institut, on his return from one of these long walks, that he knocked up against his old college friend, who had met with a nice little success, thanks to the good fellowship of his comrades, at the last Salon42.
"What, is it you?" exclaimed the painter. "Ah! my poor Laurent, I hardly recognise you. You have lost flesh."
"I am married," answered Laurent in an embarrassed tone.
"Married, you!" said the other. "Then I am not surprised to see you look so funny: and what are you doing now?"
"I have taken a small studio," replied Laurent; "and I paint a little, in the morning."
Then, in a feverish43 voice, he briefly44 related the story of his marriage, and explained his future plans. His friend observed him with an air of astonishment45 that troubled and alarmed him. The truth was that the painter no longer found in the husband of Therese, the coarse, common fellow he had known formerly46. It seemed to him that Laurent was acquiring a gentlemanly bearing; his face had grown thinner, and had taken the pale tint47 of good taste, while his whole frame looked more upright and supple48.
"But you are becoming a handsome chap," the artist could not refrain from exclaiming. "You are dressed like an ambassador, in the latest style. Who's your model?"
Laurent, who felt the weight of the examination he was undergoing, did not dare to abruptly take himself off.
"Will you come up to my studio for a moment?" he at last asked his friend, who showed no signs of leaving him.
"Willingly," answered the latter.
The painter, who could not understand the change he noticed in his old comrade, was anxious to visit his studio. He had no idea of climbing five floors to gaze on the new pictures of Laurent, which assuredly would disgust him; he merely wished to satisfy his curiosity.
When he had reached the studio, and had glanced at the canvases hanging against the walls, his astonishment redoubled. They comprised five studies, two heads of women, and three of men painted with real vigour49. They looked thick and substantial, each part being dashed off with magnificent dabs50 of colour on a clear grey background. The artist quickly approached, and was so astounded51 that he did not even seek to conceal13 his amazement52.
"Did you do those?" he inquired of Laurent.
"Yes," replied the latter. "They are studies that I intend to utilise in a large picture I am preparing."
"Eh! Yes. Why should I not be the author of them?"
The painter did not like to answer what he thought, which was as follows:
"Because those canvases are the work of an artist, and you have never been anything but a vile54 bungler55."
For a long time, he remained before the studies in silence. Certainly they were clumsy, but they were original, and so powerfully executed that they indicated a highly developed idea of art. They were life-like. Never had this friend of Laurent seen rough painting so full of high promise. When he had examined all the canvases, he turned to the author of them and said:
"Well, frankly56, I should never have thought you capable of painting like that. Where the deuce did you learn to have talent? It is not usually a thing that one acquires."
And he considered Laurent, whose voice appeared to him more gentle, while every gesture he made had a sort of elegance57. The artist had no idea of the frightful58 shock this man had received, and which had transformed him, developing in him the nerves of a woman, along with keen, delicate sensations. No doubt a strange phenomenon had been accomplished59 in the organism of the murderer of Camille. It is difficult for analysis to penetrate60 to such depths. Laurent had, perhaps, become an artist as he had become afraid, after the great disorder61 that had upset his frame and mind.
Previously62, he had been half choked by the fulness of his blood, blinded by the thick vapour of breath surrounding him. At present, grown thin, and always shuddering63, his manner had become anxious, while he experienced the lively and poignant64 sensations of a man of nervous temperament65. In the life of terror that he led, his mind had grown delirious66, ascending67 to the ecstasy68 of genius. The sort of moral malady69, the neurosis wherewith all his being was agitated70, had developed an artistic71 feeling of peculiar72 lucidity73. Since he had killed, his frame seemed lightened, his distracted mind appeared to him immense; and, in this abrupt30 expansion of his thoughts, he perceived exquisite74 creations, the reveries of a poet passing before his eyes. It was thus that his gestures had suddenly become elegant, that his works were beautiful, and were all at once rendered true to nature, and life-like.
The friend did not seek further to fathom75 the mystery attending this birth of the artist. He went off carrying his astonishment along with him. But before he left, he again gazed at the canvases and said to Laurent:
"I have only one thing to reproach you with: all these studies have a family likeness76. The five heads resemble each other. The women, themselves, have a peculiarly violent bearing that gives them the appearance of men in disguise. You will understand that if you desire to make a picture out of these studies, you must change some of the physiognomies; your personages cannot all be brothers, or brothers and sisters, it would excite hilarity77."
He left the studio, and on the landing merrily added:
"Really, my dear boy, I am very pleased to have seen you. Henceforth, I shall believe in miracles. Good heavens! How highly respectable you do look!"
As he went downstairs, Laurent returned to the studio, feeling very much upset. When his friend had remarked that all his studies of heads bore a family likeness, he had abruptly turned round to conceal his paleness. The fact was that he had already been struck by this fatal resemblance. Slowly entering the room, he placed himself before the pictures, and as he contemplated78 them, as he passed from one to the other, ice-like perspiration79 moistened his back.
"He is quite right," he murmured, "they all resemble one another. They resemble Camille."
He retired80 a step or two, and seated himself on the divan, unable to remove his eyes from the studies of heads. The first was an old man with a long white beard; and under this white beard, the artist traced the lean chin of Camille. The second represented a fair young girl, who gazed at him with the blue eyes of his victim. Each of the other three faces presented a feature of the drowned man. It looked like Camille with the theatrical81 make-up of an old man, of a young girl, assuming whatever disguise it pleased the painter to give him, but still maintaining the general expression of his own countenance82.
There existed another terrible resemblance among these heads: they all appeared suffering and terrified, and seemed as though overburdened with the same feeling of horror. Each of them had a slight wrinkle to the left of the mouth, which drawing down the lips, produced a grimace83. This wrinkle, which Laurent remembered having noticed on the convulsed face of the drowned man, marked them all with a sign of vile relationship.
Laurent understood that he had taken too long a look at Camille at the Morgue. The image of the drowned man had become deeply impressed on his mind; and now, his hand, without his being conscious of it, never failed to draw the lines of this atrocious face which followed him everywhere.
Little by little, the painter, who was allowing himself to fall back on the divan, fancied he saw the faces become animated84. He had five Camilles before him, five Camilles whom his own fingers had powerfully created, and who, by terrifying peculiarity85 were of various ages and of both sexes. He rose, he lacerated the pictures and threw them outside. He said to himself that he would die of terror in his studio, were he to people it with portraits of his victim.
A fear had just come over him: he dreaded86 that he would no more be able to draw a head without reproducing that of the drowned man. He wished to ascertain87, at once, whether he were master of his own hand. He placed a white canvas on his easel; and, then, with a bit of charcoal88, sketched89 out a face in a few lines. The face resembled Camille. Laurent swiftly effaced90 this drawing and tried another.
For an hour he struggled against futility91, which drove along his fingers. At each fresh attempt, he went back to the head of the drowned man. He might indeed assert his will, and avoid the lines he knew so well. In spite of himself, he drew those lines, he obeyed his muscles and his rebellious92 nerves. He had first of all proceeded rapidly with his sketches93; he now took pains to pass the stick of charcoal slowly over the canvas. The result was the same: Camille, grimacing94 and in pain, appeared ceaselessly.
The artist sketched the most different heads successively: the heads of angels, of virgins96 with aureoles, of Roman warriors97 with their helmets, of fair, rosy99 children, of old bandits seamed with scars; and the drowned man always, always reappeared; he became, in turn, angel, virgin95, warrior98, child and bandit.
Then, Laurent plunged into caricature: he exaggerated the features, he produced monstrous100 profiles, he invented grotesque101 heads, but only succeeded in rendering102 the striking portrait of his victim more horrible. He finished by drawing animals, dogs and cats; but even the dogs and cats vaguely103 resembled Camille.
Laurent then became seized with sullen104 rage. He smashed the canvas with his fist, thinking in despair of his great picture. Now, he must put that idea aside; he was convinced that, in future, he would draw nothing but the head of Camille, and as his friend had told him, faces all alike would cause hilarity. He pictured to himself what his work would have been, and perceived upon the shoulders of his personages, men and women, the livid and terrified face of the drowned man. The strange picture he thus conjured105 up, appeared to him atrociously ridiculous and exasperated106 him.
He no longer dared to paint, always dreading107 that he would resuscitate108 his victim at the least stroke of his brush. If he desired to live peacefully in his studio he must never paint there. This thought that his fingers possessed109 the fatal and unconscious faculty110 of reproducing without end the portrait of Camille, made him observe his hand in terror. It seemed to him that his hand no longer belonged to him.
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1
expiration
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| n.终结，期满，呼气，呼出物 | |
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deriving
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| v.得到( derive的现在分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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3
arcade
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| n.拱廊；(一侧或两侧有商店的)通道 | |
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4
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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7
prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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WHIMS
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| 虚妄，禅病 | |
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10
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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12
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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13
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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14
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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15
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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16
squander
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| v.浪费，挥霍 | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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18
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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19
accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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stammer
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| n.结巴，口吃；v.结结巴巴地说 | |
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21
caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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lavished
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| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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25
rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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31
ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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32
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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divan
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| n.长沙发；（波斯或其他东方诗人的）诗集 | |
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second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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37
dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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38
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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digestion
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| n.消化，吸收 | |
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40
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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41
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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42
salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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43
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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44
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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45
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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46
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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47
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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48
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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49
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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50
dabs
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| 少许( dab的名词复数 )； 是…能手； 做某事很在行； 在某方面技术熟练 | |
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51
astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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52
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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53
humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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54
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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55
Bungler
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| n.笨拙者，经验不够的人 | |
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56
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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57
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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58
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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59
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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60
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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61
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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62
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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63
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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64
poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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65
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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66
delirious
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| adj.不省人事的，神智昏迷的 | |
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67
ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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68
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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69
malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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lucidity
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| n.明朗，清晰，透明 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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theatrical
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| adj.剧场的，演戏的；做戏似的，做作的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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charcoal
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| n.炭，木炭，生物炭 | |
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sketched
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| v.草拟（sketch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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effaced
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| v.擦掉( efface的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；超越；使黯然失色 | |
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futility
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| n.无用 | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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grimacing
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的现在分词 ) | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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virgins
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| 处女，童男( virgin的名词复数 )； 童贞玛利亚（耶稣之母） | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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resuscitate
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| v.使复活，使苏醒 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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