“Thief! thief!” stammered Auguste, unable to contain himself any longer; “the thieves are here, madame!”
They both stood with heated countenances in front of each other. Monsieur Josserand, quite upset by all this wrangling, separated them. He beseeched them to be calm; and, trembling all over, he was obliged to sit down again.
“Anyhow,” resumed the son-in-law, after a pause, “I won’t have any strumpet in my house. Keep your money and keep your daughter That is what I came up to tell you.”
“You are changing the subject,” quietly observed the mother. “Very well, we will discuss the fresh one.”
“I told you she would deceive me!” cried Auguste, with an air of indignant triumph.
“And I answered that you were doing everything to lead to such a result!” declared Madame Josserand, victoriously. “Oh! I do not pretend that Berthe is right; what she has done is simply idiotic; and she won’t lose anything by waiting. I shall let her know what I think of it. But, however, as she is not present, I can state the fact—you alone are guilty.”
“What! I guilty?”
“Undoubtedly, my dear fellow. You don’t know how to deal with women. Here’s an instance! Do you even deign to come to my Tuesday receptions? No; you perhaps put in an appearance three times during the season, and then only stay half-an-hour Though one may have headaches, one should be polite. Oh! of course, it’s no great crime; anyhow, it judges you; you don’t know how to live.”
Her voice hissed with a slowly gathered rancor; for, on marrying her daughter, she had above all counted on her son-in-law to fill her drawing-room. And he brought no one; he did not even come himself; it was the end of one of her dreams; she would never be able to struggle against the Duveyriers’ choruses.
“However,” added she, ironically. “I force no one to come and amuse himself in my home.”