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 his wife; it was as if he carried a full cup of wrath and was afraid of spilling it.

Anna believed that she thoroughly knew her husband; but she was amazed at his appearance as he came in. His brows were contracted, and his eyes looked gloomily straight ahead, avoiding hers. His lips were firm and scornfully compressed. Never had his wife seen so much decision as she saw now in his gait, in every motion, in the sound of his voice. He entered without wishing her good morning, and went directly to her writing-desk, and, taking the key, opened the drawer.

"What do you want?" cried Anna.

"Your lover's letters."

"They are not there," she said, closing the drawer. But he knew by her action that he had guessed aright, and, roughly pushing away her hand, he quickly seized the portfolio in which he knew Anna kept her important papers. She attempted to regain it, but he held it at a distance.

"Sit down; I want to speak to you," he said, placing the portfolio under his arm, and holding it so firmly with his elbow that his shoulder was raised by it.

Anna looked at him, astonished and frightened, but said nothing.

"I told you that I would not permit you to receive your lover in this house."

"I needed to see him to ...."

She stopped, unable to find a plausible explanation.

"I will not enter into details, and have no desire to know why a woman needs to see her lover."

"I wished, I only ...." she said, flashing up, and feeling that her husband's rudeness made her bold—"is it possible that you are not aware how easy it is for you to insult me?"

"One can insult only an honest man or an honest woman; but to tell a thief that he is a thief, is only la constatation d'un fait—the statement of a fact."

"That is a degree of cruelty that I never recognized in you."