"What is it? What have I done now?" asks she.
The "now" has something pathetic in it.
"Done! done!" He is trying to keep down the fury that is possessing him. He had come to speak to her with a fixed determination in his heart not to lose his temper, not to let her have that advantage over him. He would be calm, judicial, but now—— What is the matter with him now? Seeing her there, so lovely and so sweet, so full of all graciousness—a very flower of beauty—a little thing—
"Light as the foam that flecks the seas,
Fitful as summer's sunset breeze"—
somehow a very rage of anger conquers him, and he feels as if he would like to take her and compel her to his will. "You have done one thing, at all events," says he. "You have forfeited my trust in you for ever."
"I have?"
"Yes, you! When I left home this morning, what was the last word I said to you? I must have been a fool indeed when I said it. I told you I left our house and our guests in your charge."
"Well?"
"Well?" He checks himself forcibly. Even now, when passion is gathering, he holds himself back. "When I came back what did I see?"
"Our house—not in flames, I hope; and our guests—enjoying themselves!" Tita has lifted her head. She allows herself a little smile. Then she turns upon him. "Ah, I told you!" says she. "You want always to find fault with me."