He shouted in her face: "Yes, you. You were all mad over him--Madame de
Marelle, Susan, and the rest. Do you think I did not see that you could
not pass a couple of days without having him here?"
She drew herself up tragically: "I will not allow you to speak to me
like that. You forget that I was not brought up like you, behind a
counter."
He stood for a moment stupefied, and then uttered a furious "Damn it
all!" and rushed out, slamming the door after him. As soon as she was
alone she went instinctively to the glass to see if anything was changed
in her, so impossible and monstrous did what had happened appear. Susan
in love with Pretty-boy, and Pretty-boy wanting to marry Susan! No, she
was mistaken; it was not true. The girl had had a very natural fancy for
this good-looking fellow; she had hoped that they would give him her for
a husband, and had made her little scene because she wanted to have her
own way. But he--he could not be an accomplice in that. She reflected,
disturbed, as one in presence of great catastrophes. No, Pretty-boy
could know nothing of Susan's prank.
She thought for a long time over the possible innocence or perfidy of
this man. What a scoundrel, if he had prepared the blow! And what would
happen! What dangers and tortures she foresaw. If he knew nothing, all
could yet be arranged. They would travel about with Susan for six
months, and it would be all over. But how could she meet him herself
afterwards? For she still loved him. This passion had entered into her
being like those arrowheads that cannot be withdrawn. To live without
him was impossible. She might as well die.
Her thoughts wandered amidst these agonies and uncertainties. A pain
began in her head; her ideas became painful and disturbed. She worried
herself by trying to work things out; grew mad at not knowing. She
looked at the clock; it was past one. She said to herself: "I cannot
remain like this, I shall go mad. I must know. I will wake up Susan and
question her."
She went barefooted, in order not to make a noise, and with a candle in
her hand, towards her daughter's room. She opened the door softly, went
in, and looked at the bed. She did not comprehend matters at first, and
thought that the girl might still be arguing with her father. But all at
once a horrible suspicion crossed her mind, and she rushed to her
husband's room. She reached it in a bound, blanched and panting. He was
in bed reading.