Roubaud wagged his head up and down without answering, unable to take his eyes off Séverine, off that look of abominable terror, with the hair standing on end above the forehead, and the blue eyes immeasurably wide open, inquiring: Why? CHAPTER XII Three months later, on a warm June night, Jacques was driving the Havre express that had left Paris at 6.30. His engine, No. 608, was quite new, and he began to know it thoroughly. It was not easy to handle, being restive and capricious, after the manner of those young nags which require to be broken in by hard work before they take kindly to harness. He often swore at it, and regretted La Lison. Moreover, he had to watch this new locomotive very closely, and to constantly keep his hand on the reversing-wheel. But on this particular night the sky was so delightfully serene, that he felt inclined to be indulgent, and allowed the engine to travel along as it would, while he found enjoyment in inhaling great draughts of fresh air. Never had he been blessed with such splendid health. He was untroubled with remorse, and presented the appearance of a man relieved of anxiety, and who was perfectly tranquil and happy. He who, as a rule, never spoke on the journey, began to joke with Pecqueux, whom the management had left with him as fireman. "What has come to you?" he inquired. "You've got your eyes about you like a man who has been drinking nothing but water." Pecqueux, in fact, contrary to his habit, seemed to have taken nothing and to be very gloomy. "It is necessary to have your eyes about you," he answered in a harsh voice, "when you want to see what is going on." Jacques looked at him in distrust, like a man who has not a clear conscience. The week before he had been making love to the sweetheart of his comrade, that terrible Philomène, who for some time past had been purring round him like a lean, amorous cat. He had no affection for her, but wanted to ascertain whether he was cured, now that he had satisfied his frightful craving. Could he make love to this one without plunging a knife into her throat? On two occasions when he had been out with her, he had felt nothing, no uncomfortable feeling, no shiver. His great joy, his appeased and smiling manner must be due, without his being aware of it, to the happiness he experienced at being like any other man. Pecqueux having opened the fire-box of the engine to throw in coal, Jacques stopped him. "No, no," said he, "do not make up too much fire. It is going along very well."