rage of a timid man, and with the tenacity of an easy-going man, who has
been exasperated.

But nevertheless he trembled! Was it fear? Yes . . . Perhaps he was
still frightened of her? Does one know how much excited cowardice there
often is in boldness? He went to the door with furtive steps, and
stopped to listen; his heart beat furiously, and he heard nothing but
the noise of that dull throbbing in his chest, and George's shrill
voice, who was still crying in the drawing room. Suddenly, however, the
noise of the bell over his head startled him like an explosion; then he
seized the lock, turned the key and opening the door, saw his wife and
Limousin standing before him on the stairs.

With an air of astonishment, which also betrayed a little irritation
she said: "So you open the door now? Where is Julie?" His throat
felt tight, and his breathing was labored and he tried to reply,
without being able to utter a word, so she continued: "Are you
dumb? I asked you where Julie is?" And then he managed to say:
"She ... she ... has ... gone ..." Whereupon his wife began to get
angry. "What do you mean by _gone_? Where has she gone? Why?" By
degrees he regained his coolness, and he felt immense hatred for that
insolent woman who was standing before him, rise up in him: "Yes,
she has gone altogether ... I sent her away ..." "You have sent away
Julie?... Why you must be mad." "Yes, I have sent her away because she
was insolent ... and because, because she was ill-using the child."
"Julie?" "Yes ... Julie." "What was she insolent about?" "About you."
"About me?" "Yes, because the dinner was burnt, and you did not come in."
"And she said ...?" "She said ... offensive things about you ... which
I ought not ... which I could not listen to ..." "What did she say?"
"It is no good repeating them." "I want to hear them." "She said it