“I am not rich, and I regret it for your sake.”
Then matters went from bad to worse, the quarrel assumed quite conjugal violence.
“Say that I love you for your money!” cried she, with all the bluntness of her mother, whose very words seemed to come to her lips. “I am a money-loving woman, am I not? Well! yes, I am a money-loving woman, because I am a sensible woman. It is no use pretending the contrary; money will ever be money in spite of everything. As for me, whenever I have had twenty sous, I have always pretended that I had forty, for it is better to create envy than pity.”
He interrupted her to say, in a weary voice, like a man who only desires peace.
“Listen, if it annoys you so much that it’s a llama shawl, I will give you one in Chantilly.”
“Your shawl!” continued she, in a regular fury, “why, I’ve already forgotten all about your shawl! The other things are what exasperate me, understand! Oh! moreover, you’re just like my husband. You wouldn’t care a bit if I hadn’t a pair of boots to go out in. Yet, when one loves a woman, good nature alone should prompt one to feed and dress her. But no man will ever understand that. Why, between the two of you, you would soon let me go out with nothing on but my chemise, if I was agreeable!”
Octave, tired out by this domestic squabble, decided not to answer, having noticed that Auguste sometimes got rid of her in that way. He let pass the flow of words, and thought of the ill-luck of his amours. Yet, he had ardently desired this one, even to the point of upsetting all his calculations; and, now that she was in his room, it was to quarrel with him, to make him pass a sleepless night, as though they had already left six months of married life behind them.
And full of conciliation, without desire, but polite, he tried to kiss her. She pushed him away, and burst into tears.
“Go on, reproach me also with my outings,” stammered she in the midst of her sobs. “Accuse me of being too great an expense to you. Oh! I see clearly now; it’s all on account of that wretched present. If you could shut me up in a box, you would do so. I have lady friends; I go to call on them; that is no crime. And as for mamma——”
“For heaven’s sake leave your mamma alone,” interrupted Octave; “and allow me to tell you that she has given you a precious bad temper.”