she told him:

"Whenever we are in a crowd, as long as there are people about us, I
want you, I long for you, but as soon as we are by ourselves I am
afraid."

He replied by a cheap, spiteful sneer:

"Ah, if you must have a public to stimulate you!"

She rose, and returned to the window. A tear was running down her cheek.
She wept for some time in silence. Suddenly she called to him:

"Look there!"

She pointed to Jeanne Perrin, who was strolling on the lawn with a young
woman. Each had an arm about the other's waist; they were giving one
another violets to smell, and were smiling.

"See! That woman is happy; her mind at peace."

And Jeanne Perrin, tasting the peace of long-established habits,
strolled along satisfied and serene, without even betraying any pride in
her strange preference.

Felicie watched her with, an interest which she did not confess to
herself, and envied her her serenity.

"She's not afraid, that woman."

"Let her be! What harm is she doing us?"

And he caught her violently by the waist. She freed herself with a
shudder. In the end, disappointed, frustrated, humiliated, he lost his
temper, called her a silly fool, and swore that he would not stand her
ridiculous way of treating him any longer.

She made no reply, and once more she began to weep.

Angered by her tears, he told her harshly:

"Since you can no longer give me what I ask you, it is useless for us to
meet any more. There is nothing more to be said between us. Besides, I
see that you have ceased to love me. And you would admit, if for once
you could speak the truth, that you have never loved anyone except that
wretched second-rate actor."

Then her anger exploded, and she moaned in despair:

"Liar! Liar! That's an abominable thing to say. You see I'm crying, and
you want to make me suffer more. You take advantage of the fact that I
love you to make me miserable. It's cowardly. Well, no then, I don't
love you any longer. Go away! I don't want to see you again. Go! But
it's true--what are we doing like this? Are we going to spend our lives
staring at each other like this, wild with each other, full of despair
and rage? It is not my fault--I can't, I can't. Forgive me, darling, I
love you, I worship you, I want you. Only drive him away. You are a man,
you know what there is to do. Drive him away. You killed him, not I. It
was you. Kill him altogether then--Oh God, I am going mad. I am going
mad!"

* *