They were at dessert, and Madame Raquin had just run downstairs to serve a customer.
When the cloth was removed Laurent, who for some minutes had been thoughtful, turned to Camille.
"You know," he blurted out, "I must paint your portrait." This idea delighted Madame Raquin and her son, but Therese remained silent.
"It is summer-time," resumed Laurent, "and as we leave the office at four o'clock, I can come here, and let you give me a sitting for a couple of hours in the evening.

The picture will be finished in a week." "That will be fine," answered Camille, flushed with joy.

"You shall dine with us.

I will have my hair curled, and put on my black frock coat." Eight o'clock struck.

Grivet and Michaud made their entry.