He swallowed the toast, filled his stomach and little by little became tranquillised.

After the coffee, he drank a small glass of brandy which completely restored him.

Then he said "good-bye" to Madame Raquin and Therese, without ever kissing them, and strolled to his office.
Spring was at hand; the trees along the quays were becoming covered with leaves, with light, pale green lacework.

The river ran with caressing sounds below; above, the first sunny rays of the year shed gentle warmth.

Laurent felt himself another man in the fresh air; he freely inhaled this breath of young life descending from the skies of April and May; he sought the sun, halting to watch the silvery reflection streaking the Seine, listening to the sounds on the quays, allowing the acrid odours of early day to penetrate him, enjoying the clear, delightful morn.
He certainly thought very little about Camille.