Oliva ran to meet a man, who came in swearing furiously, and in a frightful passion.
“Come, Beausire,” said she, apparently not at all frightened.
“Let me alone!” cried he, shaking her off brutally. “Ah! I see, it was because there is a man here that the door was not opened!” And as the visitor remained perfectly still, he advanced furiously towards him, saying, “Will you answer me, sir?”
“What do you want to know, my dear M. Beausire?”
“What are you doing here, and who are you?”
“I am a very quiet man, and I was simply talking to madame.”
“That was all,” said Oliva.
“Will you hold your tongue?” bawled Beausire.
“Now,” said the visitor, “do not be so rude to madame, who has done nothing to deserve it; and if you are in a bad temper——”
“Yes, I am.”