All she had to do was make a joke of it; pretend it was a slip of the tongue. But obstinacy got the better of her. Reason seemed to desert her.

‘Darling,’ she said, ‘I never told you it came from my mother.’

Roubaud stared at her. His face went pale.

‘What do you mean, you never told me it came from your mother? You’ve told me twenty times or more! I’ve no objection to the President giving you a ring; he’s given you lots of things. But why hide it from me? Why tell lies about it and say it was from your mother?’

‘Darling, I tell you I never said anything about it being from my mother; you must have imagined it.’

She knew it was stupid to persist. She was just making things worse for herself. He could read her like a book. If only she could start again, take back what she had just said. But it was too late. She felt as though she were dissolving in front of him. Written across her face was a tacit admission of guilt. The pallor had spread from her cheeks to her whole face, and a nervous twitch played in the corner of her lips. Roubaud was fearsome. His face had turned bright red, as if he were about to burst a blood vessel. He grabbed her by the wrists and thrust his face into hers, trying to read from the fear and panic in her eyes what it was she refused to tell him.

‘Good God!’ he muttered. ‘I don’t believe it!’

She was terrified. She knew he was going to hit her. She ducked her head and covered her face with her arm. It was so paltry, so trifling, almost nothing — a little fib about her ring. She had completely forgotten about it. One careless word, and the cat was out of the bag! It had taken no more than a second! He flung her across the bed, punching her wildly with both fists. In three years of marriage he had never once laid a finger on her and now he was attacking her like a wild beast, blind, demented. His hands struck her again and again, big brawny hands — hands which once had hauled railway wagons.

‘You bitch!’ he yelled. ‘You dirty bitch! You slept with him, didn’t you! You slept with him! ... Slept with him! ... Slept with him!’

In his fury, each time he said it, he punched her harder and harder as if he were trying to pound the words into her body.

‘You’re just an old man’s cast-off! You lousy bitch! You slept with him! ... Admit it ... You slept with him!’

He was so beside himself with rage that he was choking. He could no longer speak; all that came from his mouth were incoherent gasps of breath. He became aware of her voice as she cringed beneath the assault.