Thélénie galloped to her house, without once drawing rein. As she rode into the courtyard, she almost over-turned her husband, who was just starting out for a walk, and had barely time to jump into the stable. Then she dropped the reins, jumped to the ground, tossed her crop in the face of the servant who stepped forward, and, still in a rage at having been forced to retreat, cried:
“Where is monsieur? where is he hiding? tell him to come to me instantly.”
Chamoureau made bold to put his head out of the stable.
“Here I am, my love,” he said; “I am here. Your infernal horse came near upsetting me! Is it possible you didn’t see that? Your horses are too restive, they’ll play you some bad trick one of these days. You look annoyed; have you had a fall?”
“Hold your tongue, monsieur! It’s natural for you to fall; you know nothing about bodily exercise!”
“What’s that? I know nothing about bodily exercise! Why, it seems to me that there are some kinds in which I——”
“I am furious, monsieur; I am exasperated!”
“The deuce!”
“Yes; for I have been insulted, outraged, laughed at! But it shall not pass off so! I must have reparation; and I look to you for that!”
Chamoureau, scenting a duel in what his wife had said, and feeling no vocation for that sort of amusement, was strongly tempted to return to the stable. He walked about the courtyard, muttering: