This battle against their own bodies excited them to madness, and they obstinately sought to gain the victory.

Finally, a more acute crisis exhausted them.

They received a shock of such incredible violence that they thought they were about to have a fit.
Cast back one on each side of the bed, burning and bruised, they began to sob.

And amidst their tears, they seemed to hear the triumphant laughter of the drowned man, who again slid, chuckling, under the sheet.
They had been unable to drive him from the bed and were vanquished.
Camille gently stretched himself between them, whilst Laurent deplored his want of power to thrust him away, and Therese trembled lest the corpse should have the idea of taking advantage of the victory to press her, in his turn, in his arms, in the quality of legitimate master.
They had made a supreme effort.

In face of their defeat, they understood that, in future, they dared not exchange the smallest kiss.