know.

--Insolent woman.

--Ah, you can insult me, Monsieur le Curé. I let you do as you like with
me.

--Veronica, said Marcel, this life is unendurable. I hate to be surrounded
with incessant spying; what do you want to arrive at? tell me, what do you
want to arrive at?

And the Curé approached her, his fists clenched, and with glaring eyes.

--Take care of yourself, woman, for I am beginning to get tired.

--I am so too: I am tired, cried Veronica.

Marcel's wrath passed all bounds.

--Yes. I understand, you ought indeed to be so. Tired of odious spying;
tired of your unwholesome curiosity; tired of your useless
narrow-mindedness. Do not drive me too far for your own sake, I warn you.
Twice already you have made me beside myself, beware, you miserable woman,
beware of doing it a third time.

--Be quiet, Monsieur le Curé, said Veronica softly, be quiet.

--Oh, you are driving me mad, cried Marcel, throwing himself into an
arm-chair, and covering his face with his hands.