'Done?
It is not what you have done, it is what you are.

I have no patience with you.

Why are you so dull, sir?
Why are you so dowdy?
Why do you go about with your doublet awry, and your hair lank?
Why do you speak to Maignan as if he were a gentleman?
Why do you look always solemn and polite, and as if all the world were a preche?
Why?
Why?
Why, I say ?' She stopped from sheer lack of breath, leaving me as much astonished as ever in my life.

She looked so beautiful in her fury and fierceness too, that I could only stare at her and wonder dumbly what it all meant.
'Well!' she cried impatiently, after bearing this as long as she could, 'have you not a word to say for yourself?
Have you no tongue?
Have you no will of your own at all, M.de Marsac ?' 'But, mademoiselle,' I began, trying to explain.
'Chut!' she exclaimed, cutting me short before I could get farther, as the way of women is.

And then she added, in a changed tone, and very abruptly, 'You have a velvet knot of mine, sir.