Once she flew over the lines, ''Please give this one hundred crowns to the one who overcomes it.'' Then her anger tore him to shreds, and already bound the remains together to throw them into the paper basket. Then she bent down, held in, bent over the fireplace, and threw the paper into the sizzling embers. The white flame, which, with a leaping zeal, calmed her threatening rage. In that moment, she heard the returning step of her husband already at the door. She rushed up, her face red from the touch of the embers and the slapping. The door of the oven was still open treacherously. Unskilled, she sought to cover it with her body. He came to the table, ignited a match for his cigar, and, as the flame was now close to his face, she believed a trembling to see his nostrils flicker, which always betrayed his anger. He looked over at her calmly. ''I just want to make you aware that you are not obliged to show me your letters. If you wish to have secrets from me, then you are free to do so.'' She remained silent and dared not look at him. He waited a moment, then he pushed the steam of his cigar out with a strong breath, as if from the innermost breast, and left the room with a heavy step.