then, however, Julie came
to the door, with a pale face and glistening eyes, and she 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?"
"Eight! what are you thinking about? You surely do not mean to let the
child dine at eight o'clock? It would ruin his stomach. Just suppose
that he only had his mother to look after him! She cares a great deal
about her child. Oh! yes, we will speak about her; she is a mother. What
a pity it is that there should be any mothers like her!"

Parent thought it was time to cut short a threatened scene, and so he
said: "Julie, I will not allow you to speak like that of your mistress.
You understand me, do you not? Do not forget it for the future."

The old servant, who was nearly choked with surprise, turned round and
went out, slamming the door so violently after her, that the lusters on
the chandelier rattled, and for some seconds it sounded as if a number
of little invisible bells were ringing in the drawing room.

George who was surprised at first, began to clap his hands merrily, and
blowing out his cheeks, he gave a great _boum_ with all the strength of
his lungs, to imitate the noise of the door banging. Then his father
began to tell him stories, but his mind was so preoccupied that he every
moment lost the thread of his story, and the child, who could not
understand him, opened his eyes wide, in astonishment.

Parent never took his eyes off the clock; he thought he could see the
hands move, and he would have liked to have stopped them, until his
wife's return. He was not vexed with her for being late, but he was
frightened, frightened of her and of Julie, frightened at the thought of
all that might happen. Ten minutes more, would suffice to bring about an
irreparable catastrophe, explanations and acts of violence that he did
not dare to picture to himself. The mere idea of a quarrel, of their
loud voices, of insults flying through the air like bullets, the two
women standing face to face, looking at each other and flinging abuse at
one another, made his heart beat, and his tongue as parched as if he had
been walking in the sun, and made him as limp as a rag, so l