“Take that!” he shouted, crimson with rage, utterly beside himself.
But Paul flung himself between them and seized Van der Welcke’s arm. Bertha burst into hysterics, uttered scream after scream. Constance almost fainted. The two men stood facing each other, no longer drawing-room people, blazing now with mutual hatred:
“I am at your disposal, whenever you please!” said Van der Welcke.
“Of course you are!” yelled Van Naghel, his eyes starting out of his head, his cheeks scarlet as though he had actually received the blow. “Of course you are! You have nothing to lose. You can afford to behave like a quarrelsome puppy, hitting people, fighting, duelling . . .”
And, turning on his heel, quivering with rage and shame, he disappeared from their eyes through the door that opened on the landing. . . .
The door of the drawing-room opened. Dorine, Adolphine and Cateau had heard the angry words, had heard Bertha’s sobs and screams. They went to Bertha’s assistance, while Paul urged Constance, who was half fainting, to go into the drawing-room. She staggered to her feet:
“My God!” she cried. “Henri! Henri! What have you done!”
Mrs. van Lowe came up, with Aunt Ruyvenaer:
“My child, my child!”
Constance was clinging to Paul like a madwoman and kept on repeating:
