Each had an arm about the other's waist; they were giving one another violets to smell, and were smiling.
"See! That woman is happy; her mind at peace." And Jeanne Perrin, tasting the peace of long-established habits, strolled along satisfied and serene, without even betraying any pride in her strange preference.
Felicie watched her with, an interest which she did not confess to herself, and envied her her serenity.
"She's not afraid, that woman." "Let her be! What harm is she doing us ?" And he caught her violently by the waist.

She freed herself with a shudder.

In the end, disappointed, frustrated, humiliated, he lost his temper, called her a silly fool, and swore that he would not stand her ridiculous way of treating him any longer.
She made no reply, and once more she began to weep.
Angered by her tears, he told her harshly: "Since you can no longer give me what I ask you, it is useless for us to meet any more.

There is nothing more to be said between us.

Besides, I see that you have ceased to love me.