ANTONIN. You hate me. I dare say. But if you suppose that I’m a genteel husband out of a book, who lets his wife lock her door against him, you’re vastly mistaken. I’ve married you, I love you, and I intend to keep you. Hate me, do you? Very well. Escape from me if you can. [_He takes her in his arms. There is a struggle. Furniture is overturned. No word is spoken, but you can hear their deep breathing. Suddenly Antonin cries out_] Curse you, you’ve bitten me! JULIE. Yes. And I will _kill_ you if you don’t let me go! ANTONIN [_transported with rage_] We shall see which of us is master. JULIE. We shall see! ANTONIN. We _shall_! [_Antonin goes out in a violent passion_]. _Julie, left alone, straightens her hair and dress mechanically, muttering to herself inaudibly. Suddenly she falls upon a couch, and then upon the ground, where she lies sobbing in an agony of misery._ ACT IV _The same scene. M. and Madame Dupont are sitting together._ DUPONT. She’s determined to leave him, then? MME. DUPONT. Quite determined. DUPONT. And he? MME. DUPONT. After the scene I told you of he went straight out of the house and he hasn’t come back since. DUPONT. He didn’t sleep at home last night? MME. DUPONT. No. DUPONT [_scornfully_] He has gone back to ‘maman,’ no doubt. [_He goes to the window_]. MME. DUPONT [_after a pause_] Why do you keep looking out of that window? DUPONT. I’m watching the lawyer’s opposite. Caroline went in five minutes ago. I’m terribly afraid Angèle won’t come. [_To himself_] Confound Caroline. Who the Dickens can have got hold of that other fifteen thousand francs? [_Joyfully_] There’s Angèle. Look. She’s going in now. What did you say? Bless my soul, my daughters give me worry enough. Yes: he has gone back to ‘maman.’ And you think this won’t blow over, eh? MME. DUPONT. I’m certain it won’t. Julie will never forgive him. DUPONT [_almost with triumph_] That means a divorce then, eh? MME. DUPONT. Yes. A divorce. DUPONT. Ah! And who was the clever one this time, too, eh? Who was it? MME. DUPONT. I don’t know. DUPONT. Of course not. Well, _I_ was. MME. DUPONT. In what way? DUPONT. You say she’ll ask for a divorce? MME. DUPONT. Unless he does. DUPONT. Very well, then. Whichever way it is her money was settled on herself, and our good Antonin will have to give back the thirty thousand francs and my house. Thanks to me. Thanks to me. [_He rubs his hands_]. _The maid comes in._ MAID. M. and Madame Mairaut. DUPONT. Show them in. [_The maid goes out. To his wife_] Don’t go. _M. and Madame Mairaut come in._ MME. MAIRAUT [_turning to the door and speaking to her husband, who hangs back_] Are you coming in or are you not? MAIRAUT. I’m coming. [_He closes the door_]. _Formal greetings are exchanged._ MME. MAIRAUT [_sitting down_] After what passed between us yesterday— DUPONT [_with dangerous sweetness_] About Uncle Maréchal’s money?