“Let there be an end to this,” I said. “You must never speak to that man again.”
“Never speak to him!” she repeated imploringly. “But he is our clergyman, and if I break with him there will be a scandal. Indeed, George, he is not as bad as you think him. He is very earnest and impetuous, but he is good and noble.”
“What! do you defend him?”
She did not reply.
“You must choose between him and me; between the man whom you know to be a hypocrite, and the man who is your husband. If he comes here again, I shall deal with him in my own fashion; remember that! I spared him to-day, because I thought him too contemptible for any kind of violence. But I know his character, and you know it; that is enough. I shall not warn you again.”
With these words, I walked to my den. There, once alone, I gave way to my overmastering agitation. I found myself trembling like a leaf; looking in a mirror, I saw that I was pale as a ghost.
An hour passed thus. Then I heard a knock at the door.
Enter Baptisto.
“Well, what do you want?” I cried, angrily enough.
Before I knew it he was on his knees, seizing and kissing my hand.