They gave themselves an air of accomplishing an act of supreme devotedness.
Nothing in their faces betrayed a suspicion of the terror and desire that disturbed them.

Madame Raquin watched the couple with faint smiles, and a look of feeble, but grateful goodwill.
A few formalities required fulfilling.

Laurent had to write to his father to ask his consent to the marriage.

The old peasant of Jeufosse who had almost forgotten that he had a son at Paris, answered him, in four lines, that he could marry, and go and get hanged if he chose.

He gave him to understand that being resolved never to give him a sou, he left him master of his body, and authorised him to be guilty of all imaginable follies.