"Unfortunately ..."
He did not finish his sentence. He saw Suzanne opposite him, glaring at the pair of them. She was ghastly pale; and her mouth was wrung with a terrible expression of pain and hatred. He felt that she was ready to fling herself upon them and proclaim her rage aloud.
He released himself quickly and, making an effort to jest:
"Tush!" he said. "Time will show.... Enough of these jeremiads: what say you, Suzanne?... Suppose you saw to putting away my things?... Is everything done?"
Marthe was surprised at the abrupt change in his manner. However, she replied:
"There are only your papers; and I always prefer you to arrange them yourself."
"Come on, then," he said, gaily.
Marthe walked through the dressing-room to her husband's bedroom. Philippe was about to follow her and his foot touched the door-sill when Suzanne darted in front of him and barred the way with her outstretched arms.
It happened so suddenly that he uttered a slight exclamation. Marthe asked, from the further room: