When, standing before the mirror, he raised his chin and perceived the red spot beneath the white lather, he at once flew into a rage, and rapidly brought the razor to his neck, to cut right into the flesh.

But the sensations of the cold steel against his skin always brought him to his senses, and caused him to feel so faint that he was obliged to seat himself, and wait until he had recovered sufficient courage to continue shaving.
He only issued from his torpor at night to fall into blind and puerile fits of anger.

When tired of quarreling with Therese and beating her, he would kick the walls like a child, and look for something he could break.

This relieved him.
He had a particular dislike for the tabby cat Francois who, as soon as he appeared, sought refuge on the knees of Madame Raquin.

If Laurent had not yet killed the animal, it was because he dared not take hold of him.