PLEASE HELP When she sat down to dinner at her round table with its three-day-old cloth, and watched her husband opposite her lift the lid of the soup tureen and exclaim, delighted: "Ah, a good homemade beef stew! There's nothing better..." she would visualize elegant dinners with gleaming silver amid tapestried walls peopled by knights and ladies and exotic birds in a fairy forest; she would think of exquisite dishes served on gorgeous china, and of gallantries whispered and received with sphinx-like smiles while eating the pink flesh of trout or wings of grouse.2 She had no proper wardrobe, no jewels, nothing. And those were the only things that she loved--she felt she was made for them. She would have so loved to charm, to be envied, to be admired and sought after. She had a rich friend, an old school friend whom she refused to visit, because she suffered so keenly when she returned home. She would weep whole days, with grief, regret, despair, and misery.***One evening her husband came home with an exultant air, holding a large envelope in his hand."Here's something for you," he said. Swiftly she tore the paper and drew out a printed card on which were these words:"The Minister of Education and Madame Ramponneau request the pleasure of the company of Monsieur and Madame Loisel at the Ministry on the evening of Monday, January the 18th."Instead of being delighted, as her-husband hoped, she flung the invitation petulantly across the table, murmuring:"What do you want me to do with this?""Why, darling, I thought you'd be pleased. You never go out, and this is a great occasion. I had tremendous trouble to get it. Every one wants one; it's very select, and very few go to the clerks. You'll see all the really big people there."She looked at him out of furious eyes, and said impatiently: "And what do you suppose I am to wear at such an affair?"He had not thought about it; he stammered:"Why, the dress you go to the theatre in. It looks very nice, to me"He stopped, stupefied and utterly at a loss when he saw that his wife was beginning to cry. Two large tears ran slowly down from the corners of her eyes towards the corners of her mouth."What's the matter with you? What's the matter with you?" he faltered. But with a violent effort she overcame her grief and replied in a calm voice, wiping her wet cheeks:"Nothing. Only I haven't a dress and so I can't go to this party. Give your invitation to some friend of yours whose wife will be turned out better than I shall."He was heart-broken."Look here, Mathilde," he persisted, "What would be the cost of a suitable dress, which you could use on other occasions as well, something very simple?"She thought for several seconds, reckoning up prices and also wondering for how large a sum she could ask without bringing upon herself an immediate refusal and an exclamation of horror from the careful-minded clerk. At last she replied with some hesitation:"I don't know exactly, but I think I could do it on four hundred francs."He grew slightly pale, for this was exactly the amount he had been saving for a gun, intending to get a little shooting next summer on the plain of Nanterre with some friends who went lark-shooting there on Sundays. Nevertheless he said: "Very well. I'll give you four hundred francs. But try and get a really nice dress with the money."
The author seems to view the husband as
A)afraid.
B)angry.
C)gentle.
D)loving.