CHAPTER XXXII.
The following Thursday, the evening party at the Raquins, as the guests continued to term the household of their hosts, was particularly merry.
It was prolonged until half-past eleven, and as Grivet withdrew, he declared that he had never passed such a pleasant time.
Suzanne, who was not very well, never ceased talking to Therese of her pain and joy.

Therese appeared to listen to her with great interest, her eyes fixed, her lips pinched, her head, at moments, bending forward; while her lowering eyelids cast a cloud over the whole of her face.
Laurent, for his part, gave uninterrupted attention to the tales of old Michaud and Olivier.

These gentlemen never paused, and it was only with difficulty that Grivet succeeded in getting in a word edgeways between a couple of sentences of father and son.

He had a certain respect for these two men whom he considered good talkers.

On that particular evening, a gossip having taken the place of the usual game, he naively blurted out that the conversation of the former commissary of police amused him almost as much as dominoes.
During the four years, or thereabouts, that the Michauds and Grivet had been in the habit of passing the Thursday evenings at the Raquins', they had not once felt fatigued at these monotonous evenings that returned with enervating regularity.