"Oui, madame," she replied, without any indication of surprise at these contradictory orders. To outward appearance she was an absolutely passive agent, ready at a word to go hither or thither, to say yea or nay, without the least feeling or interest in the matter; but any one who judged her by this standard would have found himself grievously at fault. "Very well," I said. "I will postpone speaking of a very serious subject till I can do so out of the hearing of strangers. I will only say now that you should not have engaged this woman without consulting me." "Indeed, I shall not consult you," returned Barbara, "upon my domestic arrangements, and I am astonished at your interference. It is I who have to attend to them, and I will not be thwarted and ordered to do this or that. You think a wife is a slave; I will show you that she is not." She paused a moment, and then shrugged her shoulders. "What you have to say had best be said at once, perhaps. In heaven's name let us get it over." She stepped to Annette's side, and whispered a word or two in her ear; the next moment we were alone. "Now, John, what is it?" "With the connivance of that woman you have had false keys made, with which, in my absence--artfully contrived by yourself--you have opened my trunks." "Go on." "You admit it." "I admit nothing. Go on." "With those false keys you ransacked my trunks, and stole certain articles from them." "Stole?" she cried with a scornful laugh. "A proper word for you to use." "Never mind the word----" "But I shall mind the word. You will be dictating to me next how I shall express myself. If there is a thief here, it is you. I call you thief to your face. You ought to feel flattered that I followed your example, but nothing seems to please you. And you should consider, my dear--what is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. You opened my trunks on the sly; I opened yours on the sly, and took possession of my property which you had stolen from me." "I admit," I said, speaking without passion, "that I was wrong----" "Oh, indeed! And that admission justifies you?" "The end justified me; what I found justified me." "In your opinion, because you can do no wrong. Seriously, my love, do you look upon me as a child, and do you think I will allow myself to be spied upon and robbed with impunity?" "What I did was for your good." "Allow me, if you please, to be the judge of what is good for me. Will it offend you to hear me say that no gentleman would act as you have done?" It would have been wiser, perhaps, had I refrained from uttering the retort that rose to my lips. "Would any lady act as you have acted?" But who can control himself when he is brought face to face with an overwhelming and undeserved misfortune. "Best leave ladies and gentlemen out of the question," she said, mockingly. "As you pay me the compliment of declaring that I am not a lady, pay me the further compliment of designating what I am." I was silent.