The Lily of the Valley p.57

"Never marry, Felix," said the count as soon as he saw me; "a woman is
led by the devil; the most virtuous of them would invent evil if it did
not exist; they are all vile."

Then followed arguments without beginning or end. Harking back to
the old troubles, Monsieur de Mortsauf repeated the nonsense of the
peasantry against the new system of farming. He declared that if he had
had the management of Clochegourde he should be twice as rich as he now
was. He shouted these complaints and insults, he swore, he sprang around
the room knocking against the furniture and displacing it; then in the
middle of a sentence he stopped short, complained that his very marrow
was on fire, his brains melting away like his money, his wife had ruined
him! The countess smiled and looked upward.

"Yes, Blanche," he cried, "you are my executioner; you are killing me; I
am in your way; you want to get rid of me; you are monster of hypocrisy.
She is smiling! Do you know why she smiles, Felix?"

I kept silence and looked down.

"That woman," he continued, answering his own question, "denies me all
happiness; she is no more to me than she is to you, and yet she pretends
to be my wife! She bears my name and fulfils none of the duties which
all laws, human and divine, impose upon her; she lies to God and man.
She obliges me to go long distances, hoping to wear me out and make me
leave her to herself; I am displeasing to her, she hates me; she puts
all her art into keeping me away from her; she has made me mad through
the privations she imposes on me--for everything flies to my poor head;
she is killing me by degrees, and she thinks herself a saint and takes
the sacrament every month!"

The countess was weeping bitterly, humiliated by the degradation of
the man, to whom she kept saying for all answer, "Monsieur! monsieur!
monsieur!"

Though the count's words made me blush, more for him than for Henriette,
they stirred my heart violently, for they appealed to the sense of
chastity and delicacy which is indeed the very warp and woof of first
love.

"She is virgin at my expense," cried the count.

At these words the countess cried out, "Monsieur!"

"What do you mean with your imperious 'Monsieur!'" he shouted. "Am I not
your master? Must I teach you that I am?"

He came towards her, thrusting forward his white wolf's head, now
hideous, for his yellow eyes had a savage expression which made him look
like a wild beast rushing out of a wood. Henriette slid from her chair
to the ground to avoid a blow, which however was not given; she lay at
full length on the floor and lost consciousness, completely exhausted.
The count was like a murderer who feels the blood of his victim spurting
in his face; he stopped short, bewildered. I took the poor woman in my
arms, and the count let me take her, as though he felt unworthy to touch
her; but he went before me to open the door of her bedroom next the
salon,--a sacred room I had never entered. I put the countess on her
feet and held her for a moment in one arm, passing the other round her
waist, while Monsieur de Mortsauf took the eider-down coverlet from the
bed; then together we lifted her and laid her, still dressed, on the
bed. When she came to herself she motioned to us to unfasten her belt.
Monsieur de Mortsauf found a pair of scissors, and cut through it; I
made her breathe salts, and she opened her eyes. The count left the
room, more ashamed than sorry. Two hours passed in perfect silence.
Henriette's hand lay in mine; she pressed it to mine, but could not
speak. From time to time she opened her eyes