But Camille was delighted; he declared that he had the appearance of a person of distinction on the canvas.
When he had thoroughly admired his own face, he declared he would go and fetch a couple of bottles of champagne.

Madame Raquin went down to the shop, and the artist was alone with Therese.
The young woman had remained seated, gazing vaguely in front of her.
Laurent hesitated.

He examined the portrait, and played with his brushes.

There was not much time to lose.

Camille might come back, and the opportunity would perhaps not occur again.