He looked the portrait of Camille straight in the face, and saw it as it was, commonplace and puerile.

He took it down, and shrugging his shoulders, called himself a fool.

Therese had risen from the low chair, and was tumbling the bed about for the purpose of deceiving her aunt, so as to make her believe they had passed a happy night.
"Look here," Laurent brutally remarked to her, "I hope we shall sleep well to-night! There must be an end to this sort of childishness." Therese cast a deep, grave glance at him.
"You understand," he continued.

"I did not marry for the purpose of passing sleepless nights.

We are just like children.