He knew that he was standing before a woman who had been irritated by inward pain into a sudden gust of anger, and now, for the first time, he was not afraid of her.

In losing her self-control she had lost her control of him.
"Josephine," he cried, "tell me about this man, Le Maitre! He has no right over you.

Why do you think he is not dead?
At least, tell me what you know." It seemed that, in the confusion of conflicting emotions, she hardly wondered why he had not obeyed her.
"Oh, he is not dead!" She spoke with bitterness.

"I have no reason to suppose so.

He only leaves me in suspense that he may make me the more miserable." And then, as if realizing what she had said, she lifted her head again proudly.