The voice of prudence kept on giving him orders.

"Hard!...

No consideration!...
This female is shifty." And he struck as though his enemy were a man, without hesitation, without pity, concentrating all his soul in his fist.
The hatred that he was feeling and the recollection of the aggressive resources of the German woman made him begin a second blow, fearing an attack from her and wishing to repel it before it could be made....

But he stopped with his arm raised.
"_Ay de mi_!..." The woman had uttered a child-like wail, staggering, swaying upon her feet, with arms drooping, without any attempt at defense whatever....
She reeled from side to side as though she were drunk.

Her knees doubled under her, and she fell with the limpness of a bundle of clothes, her head first striking against the cushions of the divan.