She only prayed heaven, to grant her sufficient life to enable her to be present at the violent catastrophe she foresaw; her only remaining desire was to feast her eyes on the supreme suffering that would undo Therese and Laurent.
On this particular evening, Grivet went and seated himself beside her, and talked for a long time, he, as usual, asking the questions and supplying the answers himself.

But he failed to get even a glance from her.

When half-past eleven struck, the guests quickly rose to their feet.
"We are so comfortable with you," said Grivet, "that no one ever thinks of leaving." "The fact is," remarked Michaud by way of supporting the old clerk, "I never feel drowsy here, although I generally go to bed at nine o'clock." Olivier thought this a capital opportunity for introducing his little joke.
"You see," said he, displaying his yellow teeth, "this apartment savours of honest people: that is why we are so comfortable here." Grivet, annoyed at being forestalled, began to declaim with an emphatic gesture: "This room is the Temple of Peace!" In the meanwhile, Suzanne, who was putting on her hat, remarked to Therese: "I will come to-morrow morning at nine o'clock." "No," hastened to answer the young woman in a strange, troubled tone, "don't come until the afternoon I have an engagement in the morning." She accompanied the guests into the arcade, and Laurent also went down with a lamp in his hand.

As soon as the married couple were alone, both heaved a sigh of relief.

They must have been devoured by secret impatience all the evening.