“Very well; all the better; it will give me time to change my things, for I am very warm.”

The servant looked at him with angry and contemptuous pity.  “Oh, I can see that well enough,” she grumbled.  “You are covered with perspiration, monsieur.  I suppose you walked quickly and carried the child, and only to have to wait until half-past seven, perhaps, for madame.  I have made up my mind not to have dinner ready on time.  I shall get it for eight o’clock, and if, you have to wait, I cannot help it; roast meat ought not to be burnt!”

Monsieur Parent pretended not to hear, but went into his own room, and as soon as he got in, locked the door, so as to be alone, quite alone.  He was so used now to being abused and badly treated that he never thought himself safe except when he was locked in.

What could he do?  To get rid of Julie seemed to him such a formidable thing to do that he hardly ventured to think of it, but it was just as impossible to uphold her against his wife, and before another month the situation would become unbearable between the two.  He remained sitting there, with his arms hanging down, vaguely trying to discover some means to set matters straight, but without success.  He said to himself:  “It is lucky that I have George; without him I should-be very miserable.”

Just then the clock struck seven, and he started up.  Seven o’clock, and he had not even changed his clothes.  Nervous and breathless, he undressed, put on a clean shirt, hastily finished his toilet, as if he had been expected in the next room for some event of extreme importance, and went into the drawing-room, happy at having nothing to fear.  He glanced at the newspaper, went and looked out of the window, and then sat down again, when the door opened, and the boy came in, washed, brushed, and smiling.  Parent took him up in his arms and kissed him passionately; then he tossed him into the air, and held him up to the ceiling, but soon sat down again, as he was tired with all his exertion.  Then, taking George on his knee, he made him ride a-cock-horse.  The child laughed and clapped his hands and shouted with pleasure, as did his father, who laughed until his big stomach shook, for it amused him almost more than it did the child.

Parent loved him with all the heart of a weak, resigned, ill-used man.  He loved him with mad bursts of affection, with caresses and with all the bashful tenderness which was hidden in him, and which had never found an outlet, even at the early period of his married life, for his wife had always shown herself cold and reserved.

Just then Julie came to the door, with a pale face and glistening eyes, and said in a voice which trembled with exasperation:  “It is half-past seven, monsieur.”

Parent gave an uneasy and resigned look at the clock and replied:  “Yes, it certainly is half-past seven.”

“Well, my dinner is quite ready now.”

Seeing the storm which was coming, he tried to turn it aside.  “But did you not tell me when I came in that it would not be ready before eight?”