Then, as his passion was short-lived, like that of most good-tempered men, and his strength was soon exhausted, he remained standing between the two, panting, worn out, not knowing what to do next.  His brutal fury had expended itself in that effort, like the froth of a bottle of champagne, and his unwonted energy ended in a gasping for breath.  As soon as he could speak, however, he said: 

“Go away—­both of you—­immediately!  Go away!”

Limousin remained motionless in his corner, against the wall, too startled to understand anything as yet, too frightened to move a finger; while Henriette, with her hands resting on a small, round table, her head bent forward, her hair hanging down, the bodice of her dress unfastened, waited like a wild animal which is about to spring.  Parent continued in a stronger voice:  “Go away immediately.  Get out of the house!”

His wife, however, seeing that he had got over his first exasperation grew bolder, drew herself up, took two steps toward him, and, grown almost insolent, she said:  “Have you lost your head?  What is the matter with you?  What is the meaning of this unjustifiable violence?”

But he turned toward her, and raising his fist to strike her, he stammered out:  “Oh—­oh—­this is too much, too much!  I heard everything!  Everything—­do you understand?  Everything!  You wretch—­you wretch!  You are two wretches!  Get out of the house, both of you!  Immediately, or I shall kill you!  Leave the house!”

She saw that it was all over, and that he knew everything; that she could not prove her innocence, and that she must comply.  But all her impudence had returned to her, and her hatred for the man, which was aggravated now, drove her to audacity, made her feel the need of bravado, and of defying him, and she said in a clear voice:  “Come, Limousin; as he is going to turn me out of doors, I will go to your lodgings with you.”

But Limousin did not move, and Parent, in a fresh access of rage, cried out:  “Go, will you?  Go, you wretches!  Or else—­or else——­” He seized a chair and whirled it over his head.

Henriette walked quickly across the room, took her lover by the arm, dragged him from the wall, to which he appeared fixed, and led him toward the door, saying:  “Do come, my friend—­you see that the man is mad.  Do come!”

As she went out she turned round to her husband, trying to think of something that she could do, something that she could invent to wound him to the heart as she left the house, and an idea struck her, one of those venomous, deadly ideas in which all a woman’s perfidy shows itself, and she said resolutely:  “I am going to take my child with me.”

Parent was stupefied, and stammered:  “Your—­your—­child?  You dare to talk of your child?  You venture—­you venture to ask for your child—­after-after—­Oh, oh, that is too much!  Go, you vile creature!  Go!”

She went up to him again, almost smiling, almost avenged already, and defying him, standing close to him, and face to face, she said:  “I want my child, and you have no right to keep him, because he is not yours—­do you understand?  He is not yours!  He is Limousin’s!”