nobody would go to open the door. What was he to do? He went himself, and
suddenly he felt brave, resolute, ready for dissimulation and the
struggle. The terrible blow had matured him in a few moments. He wished
to know the truth, he desired it with the rage of a timid man, and with
the tenacity of an easy-going man who has been exasperated.

Nevertheless, he trembled. 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. Suddenly, however, the noise of the
bell over his head startled him like an explosion. 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 as he tried to.
reply, without being able to utter a word.

"Are you dumb?" she continued. "I asked you where Julie is?"

"She--she--has--gone----" he managed to stammer.

His wife began to get angry. "What do you mean by gone? Where has she
gone? Why?"

By degrees he regained his coolness. He felt an intense hatred rise up in
him for that insolent woman who was standing before him.