She mechanically commenced to undress herself, and becoming more and more excited, she raised her voice.
“Mamma has always done her duty. It’s not for you to speak of her here. I forbid you to mention her name. It only remained for you to attack my family!”
Finding a difficulty in undoing the string of her petticoat, she broke it. Then, seating herself on the edge of the bed, her bosom heaving with anger in the midst of the surrounding lace of her chemise, she continued:
“Ah! how I regret my weakness, sir! how one would reflect, if one could only foresee everything!”
Octave, who had made a show of lying with his face to the wall, suddenly bounced round, exclaiming:
“What! you regret having loved me?”
“Most certainly, a man incapable of understanding a woman’s heart!”
And they looked at each other close together, with hardened faces, quite devoid of love.
“Ah! good heavens! if it were only to come over again!” added she.
“You would take another, wouldn’t you?” said he, brutally and in a very low voice.