Some little time after I sat down to a dinner which was below criticism.
For some time past the food which was sent in daily from a neighbouring restaurant had been steadily deteriorating, but my beloved wife, with her irresistible sweetness, had made me believe that I had grown more fastidious. And I had not doubted her word, for I always took her at her own valuation and looked upon her as the soul of truth and candour.
The fatal dinner was served. There was nothing on the dish but bones and sinews.
"What is this you are putting before me?" I asked the maid.
"I am sorry, sir," she replied, "but I had orders to reserve the best pieces for the dog."
Beware of the woman who has been found out! Her wrath will fall on your head with fourfold strength.
She sat as if struck by lightning, unmasked, shown up as a liar, a cheat even, for she had always insisted that she was paying for the dog's food out of her own pocket. Her pallor and silence made me feel sorry for her. I blushed for her, and hating to see her humiliated, I behaved like a generous conqueror, and tried to console her. I playfully patted her cheek and told her not to mind.
But generosity was not one of her virtues. She burst into a torrent of angry words: My origin was very evident; I had no education, no manners, since I rebuked her before a servant, a stupid girl who had misunderstood her instructions. There was no doubt that I, and I only, was to blame. Hysterics followed, she grew more and more violent, jumped up from her chair, threw herself on the sofa, raved like a maniac, sobbed and screamed that she was dying.
I was sceptical, and remained untouched.
Such a fuss, and all about a dog!