You know nothing at all about my scheme." "Nothing! I know all." "Then tell it to me!" cried Rabourdin, angry for the first time since his marriage.
"There! it is half-past six o'clock; finish shaving and dress at once," she cried hastily, after the fashion of women when pressed on a point they are not ready to talk of.

"I must go; we'll adjourn the discussion, for I don't want to be nervous on a reception-day.

Good heavens! the poor soul!" she thought, as she left the room, "it /is/ hard to be in labor for seven years and bring forth a dead child! And not trust his wife!" She went back into the room.
"If you had listened to me you would never had interceded to keep your chief clerk; he stole that abominable paper, and has, no doubt, kept a fac-simile of it.

Adieu, man of genius!" Then she noticed the almost tragic expression of her husband's grief; she felt she had gone too far, and ran to him, seized him just as he was, all lathered with soap-suds, and kissed him tenderly.
"Dear Xavier, don't be vexed," she said.

"To-night, after the people are gone, we will study your plan; you shall speak at your ease,--I will listen just as long as you wish me to.