They passed the most cruel evenings opposite the impotent old lady, who no longer lulled their terror with her gentle, idle chatter.

She reposed in an armchair, like a parcel, a thing, while they remained alone, one at each end of the table, embarrassed and anxious.

This body no longer separated them; at times they forgot it, confounding it with the articles of furniture.
They were now seized with the same terror as at night.

The dining-room became, like the bedroom, a terrible spot, where the spectre of Camille arose, causing them to suffer an extra four or five hours daily.

As soon as twilight came, they shuddered, lowering the lamp-shade so as not to see one another, and endeavouring to persuade themselves that Madame Raquin was about to speak and thus remind them of her presence.