"At least say nothing about that money." Jean went on: "Why your jealousy oozes out at every pore.

You never say a word to my father, my mother, or me that does not declare it plainly.

You pretend to despise me because you are jealous.

You try to pick a quarrel with every one because you are jealous.

And now that I am rich you can no longer contain yourself; you have become venomous, you torture our poor mother as if she were to blame!" Pierre had retired step by step as far as the fire-place, his mouth half open, his eyes glaring, a prey to one of those mad fits of passion in which a crime is committed.
He said again in a lower tone, gasping for breath: "Hold your tongue--for God's sake hold your tongue!" "No! For a long time I have been wanting to give you my whole mind! You have given me an opening--so much the worse for you.