likely cut the silk. You must take care of it, for I shall not buy you a
new one in a hurry."

She took it, unfastened it, and remained dumfounded with astonishment and
rage; in the middle of the silk there was a hole as big as a
six-penny-piece; it had been made with the end of a cigar.

"What is that?" she screamed.

Her husband replied quietly, without looking at it:

"What is it? What do you mean?"

She was choking with rage, and could hardly get out a word.

"You--you--have--burned--your umbrella! Why--you
must be--mad! Do you wish to ruin us outright?"

He turned round, and felt that he was growing pale.

"What are you talking about?"

"I say that you have burned your umbrella. Just look here."

And rushing at him, as if she were going to beat him, she violently
thrust the little circular burned hole under his nose.

He was so utterly struck dumb at the sight of it that he could only
stammer out: