“I have had enough of this wretched life. The courts shall separate us, and I will go to earn my living in Paris or elsewhere.” As she proceeded some peasants bowed to her, but she did not notice them. Upon arriving at Monsieur Eugène’s house she knocked, and old Jeannette, the servant, opened the door. “Is your master at home?” “Yes, Madame. Will you come in?” Monsieur Eugène was occupied for the moment with a land-owner who was consulting him as to whether he should sell a piece of property, so the maid ushered Catherine into a waiting-room where a man was also waiting. Upon seeing him Catherine stepped backward toward the door, but the man, greatly excited, rose to his feet and said: “Your husband, then, has lost his senses?” “Yes, Monsieur Firmin, I fear so.” “But that is no reason why he should insult me.” “Is it on your account that he has been tempted to kill me?” demanded Madame Barrau. “Without doubt, since it is on your account that he has insulted me. He has boasted all over the country of having thrashed me, of having broken my head.” “And it is not true?” “No, it is not true,” he declared with bravado. No witnesses to his chastisement having been present, Firmin had decided to tell his own story. If the gamekeeper had said nothing concerning the encounter at Balance Rock, Firmin doubtless would have kept silent. But to have it proclaimed abroad was too much of a shock to his _amour propre_ to pass over in silence. Early on this day, therefore, he had come to consult with Monsieur Eugène as to the best method of summoning Savin to court. But all along the road he had been twitted about his encounter with Barrau, and upon his arrival at the counselor’s house he was fairly boiling with rage. He had been asked to wait, but he was restless and disturbed, when the door had opened and Catherine had walked in. But she was more angered than Firmin and her words were nettling and impetuous. “If he has not struck you down,” she said, with the intention of pushing him to the last extremity, “be sure he will do it, and that, too, before the world.” “He does not dare!” “Bah! Who is to prevent him, eh? Are _you_ the man to do it?” “Take care, Madame Catherine Barrau! Don’t excite me beyond all reason. It wouldn’t take much urging for me to kill him--your charming husband.” “Come, now, I defy you! You are too much of a coward!” Though they were speaking in muffled tones, they were thoroughly aroused and the energy of mad passion controlled their words. “If only you could have loved me, fair tigress,” said Firmin in a whisper, overcome by her imperial beauty. “I do not love people who are the laughing-stock of the village. Everybody is making fun of you. Were you less a coward Savin would have paid for his insults from you before this. Bruno would have found a way to have punished him.”