"If she chooses to stint herself in order to help her family, and in such a way that the household does not suffer by it, I do not see what you have to complain of. Is it not natural for her to wish to help her own kith and kin? Would not you do the same? And why do you oblige her to ask you for every _centesimo_? Why do you insist on even buying her clothes for her instead of letting her do it herself? If you tyrannize over her you must expect that she will develop a slave's vices--but I can still see no evidence of a direct lie on her part; at most, she may be guilty of an occasional, and considering your conduct, most excusable equivocation! Now, my friend, you have come to a turning-point, you must realize that yourself. By your own fault, I don't say consciously--but still by your own actions, you have come to this pass, that the relations between you and your wife, are, by your own admission, impossible--and that you are both of you miserable, and but for outside intervention you would be standing here now a murderer, as a result of your ungovernable temper--the murderer of the children you really love better than anything else in the world. Pull up man! For God's sake, pull up and start out afresh! I know Ragna will meet you half-way. Can't you see where you are going, at this rate?" Valentini fairly squirmed under his friend's kindly hand. The indictment was terribly severe; it was the first time in his life that anyone had dared speak to him so openly and so authoritatively. It found him unprepared, bereft of his usual armour of carefully arranged appearances. The incident of the children had shaken him more than he cared to admit. If he had but little affection for Mimmo, Beppino was the very apple of his eye; but he would not willingly have done physical harm even to Mimmo. He, in common with many so-called "bad" men, had an instinctive love of children and animals and in spite of his violent temper nearly always won their affection. He was shocked to think to what his violence had led him--so much so that he could hardly believe it. Indeed had there been no witnesses he would have denied his action and in a short time would positively have persuaded himself that no such thing had taken place. He was not a man, however, to acknowledge himself in the wrong and Ferrati knew him well enough, not to expect it of him; it was enough that he should answer, as he presently did: "My life, certainly, is anything but happy. A man generally looks forward to finding at least peace in his own home, but that has not been my lot--although if ever a man slaved from morning to night and gave up everything for his family, I am that man!" It was quite true that he worked hard, but he would have worked equally hard with no family to provide for, industry was in the nature of the man.