She had the most ridiculous dreams; she looked at the roaring river in defiance, imagining that the water was about to leap on her and attack her.

Then she became rigid, preparing for the defence, and angrily inquiring of herself how she could vanquish the torrent.
At night, Therese, appeased and silent, stitched beside her aunt, with a countenance that seemed to be dozing in the gleam that softly glided from beneath the lamp shade.

Camille buried in an armchair thought of his additions.

A word uttered in a low voice, alone disturbed, at moments, the peacefulness of this drowsy home.
Madame Raquin observed her children with serene benevolence.

She had resolved to make them husband and wife.