And yet, if ever, this was the time for him to assume the character of Brutus.  And what better cause had he to arouse himself from his stupor, than that Lucretia had received a male visitor in her bed-chamber.  True, Mrs. Ulrica had not received an insult, neither did she appear prepared sacrifice herself, like Lucretia, as an atonement for the outrage.  All in all, present appearances were well calculated to arouse sterner sentiments within Mr. Fabian’s heart; but he was so frightened that he would have forgiven everything if he could have assured himself that the horrible spectacle was but a dream which would vanish at the coming of the morning.

“Perjured traitor!” screamed Mrs. Ulrica, “you hide yourself like Adam after his fall.  But come forth, this Lucifer will teach you that you no longer dwell in paradise.”

“Mr. Lonner,” stammered Mr. Fabian, “I am an innocent, unhappy man, and I swear to you that Mrs. Magde has never—­”

As he heard these words Ragnar trembled violently.

“Silence, reprobate,” said he, “the name of my virtuous wife shall not pass your lips.  She needs none of your recommendations; but your wife, you pitiful coward, she shall learn from me, now, what your true character is.”

Thus saying Lonner with one hand seized the unlucky Fabian by the coat-collar, and brandished the horse-whip over his head with the other.

But as Mr. Fabian made no resistance, but wept and begged for mercy in loud and wailing tones, Ragnar released him, and, confused at the singularity of his own sentiments, he glanced towards Mrs. Ulrica, and said: 

“He is so cowardly, that it seems almost as bad to whip him, as it would be to beat a hare.  In giving him over to you I am fully revenged.”

The cow-hide disappeared beneath his coat, and Lonner departed.

But Ragnar Lonner had made a miscalculation, when he thought that Mr. Fabian would fall into the hands of the Medusa within the bed-curtains.  The very thought of the humiliation he had undergone, and the fear of what was yet in store for him, inspired Mr. Fabian with an unusual degree of courage or rather drove him to desperation.

Brutus aroused himself.  He could see no other method of escape than by crushing the tigress before she pounced upon him.  He therefore at once attacked her with passionate actions and wild expressions.

“O, you miserable woman!  You faithless wife!  Do you think that I shall allow myself to be blinded by the farce you have just played with your lover?  I will leave you alone in your house.  I cast you from my heart.  The whole world shall know you as I know you now.”

“Fabian!  Fabian! are you mad?”

Mistress Ulrica was both frightened and pleased.  This was a scene she had long desired.

“If I am mad, who has driven me to madness?” shouted Mr. Fabian, determined to retain the advantage he had already won.  Then assuming an imposing position he gazed sternly into the face of his trembling wife.  “How long I have closed my eyes to your little indiscretions!  How many bitter tears I have shed, when I observed how you encouraged that shark who made love to my wife while he feasted at my table.”