Auguste shrugged his shoulders.
“Your mother! Listen? you’re like her, you’re quite ugly, when you put yourself in that state. Yes, I scarcely know you; it is she herself. On my word, it quite frightens me!”
At this, Berthe calmed down, and, looking him full in the face, exclaimed:
“Only go and tell mamma what you were saying just now, and see how quickly she’ll show you the door.”
“Ah! she’ll show me the door!” yelled the husband, in a fury. “Well, then! I’ll go up and tell her at once.”
And he did indeed move toward the door. It was time he went, for Saturnin, with his wolf-like eyes, was treacherously advancing to strangle him from behind. The young woman had dropped into a chair, where she was murmuring, in a low voice:
“Ah! good heavens! I’d take care not to marry him, if I had my choice over again!”
Up-stairs, Monsieur Josserand, greatly surprised, answered the door, Adèle having just gone up to bed. As he was then preparing to pass the night in addressing wrappers, in spite of the ill-health he had been lately complaining of, it was with a certain embarrassment, a shame at being found out, that he ushered his son-in-law into the dining-room; and he spoke of some pressing work, a copy of the last inventory of the Saint Joseph glass factory. But, when Auguste deliberately accused his daughter, reproaching her with running into debt, relating all the quarrel brought about by the matter of the false hair, the poor old man’s hands were seized with a nervous trembling. Struck to the heart, he could only manage to stammer out a few words, whilst his eyes filled with tears. His daughter in debt, living as he had lived himself, in the midst of constant matrimonial squabbles! All the unhappiness of his life was then going to be gone through again in the person of his daughter! And another fear almost froze him on his chair: he dreaded every minute to hear his son-in-law broach the money question, demand the dowry, and call him a thief. No doubt the young man knew everything, as he burst in upon them at past eleven o’clock at night.
“My wife is going to bed,” stammered he, his head in a whirl. “It is useless to disturb her, is it not? I am really amazed at the things you have told me! Poor Berthe is not wicked, though, I assure you. Be indulgent. I will speak to her. As for ourselves, my dear Auguste, we have done nothing, I think, which can displease you.”
And he sounded him, so to speak, with his glance, already reassured, as he saw that he could know nothing as yet, when Madame Josserand appeared on the threshold of the bed-room. She was in her night-gown, all white and terrible. Auguste, though greatly excited, drew back. No doubt she had been listening at the door, for she commenced with a direct thrust.