Monsieur Josserand’s face became whiter than ever as he remarked:
“I beseech you, Eléonore. I abandon my father to you, and also all my relations. Only, I beseech you, let me be. I do not feel well.”
Berthe, taking pity on him, raised her head.
“Do leave him alone, mamma,” said she.
So, turning toward her daughter, Madame Josserand resumed more violently than ever:
“I’ve been keeping you for the last; you won’t lose by waiting! Yes, ever since yesterday I’ve been bottling it up. But, I warn you, I can no longer keep it in—I can no longer keep it in. With that counter-jumper; I can scarcely believe it! Have you, then, lost all pride? I thought that you were making use of him, that you were just sufficiently amiable to cause him to interest himself in the business down-stairs; and I assisted you, I encouraged him. In short, tell me what advantage you saw in it all?”
“None whatever,” stammered the young woman.
“Then, why did you take up with him? It was even more stupid than wicked.”
“How absurd you are, mamma: one can never explain such things.”
Madame Josserand was again walking about.