"That you intended starting to-morrow morning for Montenegro, to buy castradina, and——"
Radonic gave such a mighty thump on the table that the bukara was upset. It rolled and fell to the ground before it could be caught. Milena hastened to pick it up, but the wine was spilt. The husband thereupon, not knowing how to vent his spite, gave a kick to the poor woman just as she stooped to pick it up. She slipped and fell sprawling to the ground, uttering a stifled groan. Then she got up, deathly pale, and went to sit down in a corner of the room, and began to cry unperceived.
"And what did you answer when he told you that I was starting?"
"I begged him to leave me in peace, and above all not to come to-morrow evening, if his life was dear to him."
"Ah! you begged him, did you? Well, if ever man was blessed with a foolish wife, I am."
A moment's silence followed, after which he added:
"What a fool a man is who gets married—above all, a sailor who takes as his wife a feather-brained creature, as you are. May God hurl a thunderbolt at me if I'd marry again were I but free."
Poor Milena did not reply, for she was inured to such taunts, Radonic being one of those men who pride themselves on speaking out their own minds. She kept crying quietly—not for the pain she felt, but because she dreaded the fatal consequences of the kick she had just received.
"Will you stop whimpering, or I'll come and give you something to cry for. It's really beyond all powers of endurance to hear a woman whine and a pig squeak; if there is a thing that drives me mad, it's that."
Thereupon Radonic began to puff at his pipe savagely, snarling and snorting as he smoked.