"Oh! my God, he is going to kill me!" she moaned to herself, crouching down in the corner with her arms raised wildly above her shrinking head.
He towered above her with his clenched fist raised threateningly and his eyes glaring ferociously upon her.
Xenie believed that a sudden frenzy of madness had come upon her husband and that he was going to take her life.
She was about to shriek aloud in the hope of rescue, when he suddenly clapped a strong hand over her lips.
"Hush!" he said, fearfully, "hush, Xenie, don't let anyone know I struck you! Does it hurt you much?—the blood, I mean—I'm sorry if it does."
The tone was that of a wheedling, penitent child that is sorry for its fault. In sheer surprise the frightened creature looked up at him.
The ferocious look of bloodthirsty madness had marvelously faded from his face, and left a pale, fearful, childish expression instead.
He dropped his hand and wiped the blood from it, shivering all over.
"Oh! the blood, how red it is!" he whined. "Did I hurt you, my love? I'm sorry—very sorry. Don't tell anyone I struck you."
"I'll tell the whole world," she flashed forth, speaking with difficulty, for her lips were bruised and swollen. "I'll tell them that you are mad, and I'll have you put into an asylum for dangerous lunatics, you base coward!"