and he worked his arms about as if he had an epileptic attack. "Come!...
Give me an answer.... She does not know.... I will make a bet that she
does not know ... No ... she does not know, by Jove!... She used to go
to bed with both of us! Ha! ha! ha!... nobody knows ... nobody.... How
can any one know such things?... You will not know, either, my boy, you
will not know any more than I do.... never.... Look here.... Ask her ...
you will find that she does not know.... I do not know either.... You
can choose ... yes, you can choose ... him or me.... Choose.... Good
evening.... It is all over.... If she makes up her mind to tell you,
come and let me know, will you? I am living at the _Hôtel des
Continents_.... I should be glad to know.... Good evening.... I hope you
will enjoy yourselves very much...."

And he went away gesticulating, and talking to himself under the tall
trees, into the empty, cool air, which was full of the smell of the sap.
He did not turn round to look at them, but went straight on, walking
under the stimulus of his rage, under a storm of passion, with that one
fixed idea in his mind, and presently he found himself outside the
station. A train was about to start and he got in. During the journey,
his anger calmed down, he regained his senses and returned to Paris,
astonished at his own boldness, and feeling as aching and knocked up, as
if he had broken some bones, but nevertheless he went to have a _bock_
at his brewery.

When she saw him come in, Mademoiselle Zoé was surprised and said:
"What! back already? are you tired?" "I am tired ... very tired.... You
know, when one is not used to going out.... But I have done with it. I
shall not go into the country again. I had better have stopped here. For
the future, I shall not stir out again."