His stupid expression irritated her. Why did he stare at her like that? Oh, yes, he could still look at her, but little was wanting and he would never have been able to look at her again. And she would not have been obliged to look at him either. "Alas, alas!" She buried her face in her hands and groaned aloud. Now she had given it back, now she was powerless, helpless, hopeless. "Give it back to me," she cried, and tried to tear it out of his hand.
But this time he held it fast; he put his big fist, in which the little box lay quite hidden, behind his back. "What am I to do with it?" he asked, all at once suspicious. "I thought the rats had eaten it all, and you've got some still?"
"No--yes, yes, they have--no, no, I didn't give it all." Her voice was unsteady, hesitating. She felt that he suspected something, and it terrified her.
"Oh, I don't know, leave me," she said suddenly, in a faint voice, and broke into a hopeless fit of sobbing, terrified and completely confused.
"Psia krew!" Mr. Tiralla raised his brows, and his eyes wandered restlessly from his wife to the little box in his hand, and then from the poison to his wife. He opened the box. H'm, there were still five whole powders left in it, and he had only brought six in the first case. Yes, there had been six. And now? "There are still five powders in it," he murmured.
He was only thinking aloud, but she immediately took it as an accusation. Her pallor changed into burning red, she trembled and swayed so much that she had to rest her hand on the table in order to support herself. It was as though she were standing at the bar. But her present danger helped her to regain her self-command; all at once she was no longer at a loss for a lie.
"There were twelve powders in it," she asserted boldly. "I've used the half--more than the half."
"Really?" He shook his head doubtfully. "Twelve powders, really?"
How strangely he said that. She cast a hasty glance at his face in the hope of being able to read his thoughts. But it was as red and fat as always, perhaps even a little redder. It told her nothing.
She turned to go, full of desperate defiance. Let him think what he liked then; it was all the same to her. She saw him go to the old bureau that stood close to the bed-curtains, in which he kept his money and papers, and then she closed the door with a bang.