She was one of those sort of women whom resistance irritates and
impoliteness exasperates, and she said disdainfully and with angry calm:
"I am not accustomed to be spoken to like that. I will go alone, then.
Good-bye."
He understood that it was serious, and darting towards her, seized her
hands and kissed them, saying: "Forgive me, darling, forgive me. I am
very nervous this evening, very irritable. I have had vexations and
annoyances, you know--matters of business."
She replied, somewhat softened, but not calmed down: "That does not
concern me, and I will not bear the consequences of your ill-temper."
He took her in his arms, and drew her towards the couch.
"Listen, darling, I did not want to hurt you; I was not thinking of what
I was saying."
He had forced her to sit down, and, kneeling before her, went on: "Have
you forgiven me? Tell me you have forgiven me?"
She murmured, coldly: "Very well, but do not do so again;" and rising,
she added: "Now let us go for a stroll."
He had remained at her feet, with his arms clasped about her hips, and
stammered: "Stay here, I beg of you. Grant me this much. I should so
like to keep you here this evening all to myself, here by the fire. Say
yes, I beg of you, say yes."
She answered plainly and firmly: "No, I want to go out, and I am not
going to give way to your fancies."