He paused a moment, and then went on: “Like all deceived husbands, I was unable to believe that such a misfortune could come to me, that such shame could enter my home. In all St. Benoit there is not a fireside where they are not mocking me.”
Barrau’s love and vanity were equally wounded. His anger knew no bounds, and by the time he reached the cottage he was half mad with doubt and sorrow.
Hearing his step on the walk, Catherine came out to meet him, her face softened by smiles and her general manner indicating that she desired a reconciliation. While awaiting Savin she had arranged a little confession she now purposed to offer. If on this day Firmin had kept out of Savin’s path, conjugal harmony would have been restored, for Catherine was resolved to make the amende honorable. But fatality willed it otherwise.
As Barrau approached, he saw his wife standing by the door. Irritated to a state of madness, he fancied he perceived in her friendly attitude and advances only deception, and in his brutality as a betrayed husband he raised the butt of his gun and struck her without a word of warning or explanation. Never afterward could the misguided fellow forgive himself or forget that scene.
Catherine stood silent and immovable. Never had she dreamed of this. Not only had he insulted her, but the blow had given her pain; but the latter was as nothing compared to the fury which took possession of her brain. Springing to her feet, she made one bound for his throat, and a pitiful struggle ensued. Catherine was naturally the first to yield, and she cried for help. Her cries brought Barrau partially to his senses. He stopped and stepped back, leaving his wife leaning against the buffet, panting for breath.
A moment’s silence intervened, and then seizing her arm he exclaimed: “You are lost, do you know it? And as for that villain Bruno—I will kill him! Do you understand?”
“Oh, it is Bruno, then, that you want to kill? Well, he is no coward.”
“Shameless woman!”
“Cruel monster!”
After uttering these words Catherine, with the manner of a maniac, rushed up the staircase and locked herself in her room, resolved to wait until the morrow before breaking with the man from whom there was now nothing to hope.