This seemed to be the only plausible solution of his cousin's behavior.

"He is probably tired," thought he, "of keeping us here at the chateau, my mother and myself." Claudet's pride and self-respect revolted at this idea.

He did not intend to be an incumbrance on any one, and became offended in his turn at the mute reproach which he imagined he could read in his cousin's troubled countenance.

This misconception, confirmed by the obstinate silence of both parties, and aggravated by its own continuance, at last produced a crisis.
It happened one night, after they had taken supper together, and Julien's ill-humor had been more evident than usual.

Provoked at his persistent taciturnity, and more than ever convinced that it was his presence that young de Buxieres objected to, Claudet resolved to force an explanation.