“The truth is, it is not very amusing there,” replied he, out of all patience.
This threw her into a towering rage.
“That’s it, insult away! Learn, sir, that I might have all the high life of Paris if I wished, and that I was not looking to you to help me to keep my rank in society!”
There was no longer any question of Berthe; the adultery had disappeared before this personal quarrel. Monsieur Josserand continued to listen to them, as though he were tossing about in the midst of some nightmare. It was not possible; his daughter could not have caused him this grief; and he ended by painfully rising again from his seat and going, without saying a word, in search of Berthe. Directly she was there, she would throw herself into Auguste’s arms, and then everything would be explained and forgotten. He found her in the midst of a quarrel with Hortense, who was urging her to implore her husband’s forgiveness, having already had enough of her, and being unwilling to share her room any longer. The young woman resisted, yet she ended by following her father. As they returned to the dining-room, where the breakfast cups were still scattered over the table, Madame Josserand was exclaiming:
“No, on my word of honor! I don’t pity you.”
On catching sight of Berthe she stopped speaking, and again retired into her stern majesty. When his wife appeared before him, Auguste made a gesture of protest, as though to remove her from his path.
“Come,” said Monsieur Josserand, in his gentle and trembling voice, “what is the matter with you all? I can’t make it out; you will drive me mad with all your quarreling. Your husband is mistaken, is he not, my child? You will explain things to him. You must have a little consideration for your old parents. Embrace each other; now, come, do it for my sake.”
Berthe, who would all the same have kissed Auguste, stood there awkwardly, and half-choked by her dressing-gown, on seeing him draw back with an air of tragical repugnance.
“What! you refuse to, my darling?” continued the father. “You should take the first step, and you, my dear boy, encourage her; be indulgent.”
The husband at length gave free vent to his anger.