Very early in the novel, when Leonce returns home late from his club, he wakes Edna up with his noise and chatter. Despite her being fast asleep, he is discouraged "that his wife, who was the sole object of his existence, evinced so little interest in things which concerned him and valued so little his conversation." I repeat: she'd been quite asleep when he arrived, and it was his rudeness that awakened her.
In order to compel her to get up, it seems, he then seemingly makes up a story about their son, Raoul, being sick. When Edna reassures him that the boy is fine, "he reproached his wife with her inattention, her habitual neglect of the children. If it was not a mother's place to look after children, whose on earth was it? . . . He talked in a monotonous, insistent way," as though it is habit for him to lecture her like this. This led to tears and the beginning of Edna's recognition of "an indescribable oppression, which . . . filled her whole being with a vague anguish." This is certainly not the way good husbands make their wives feel. If Leonce is unhappy with his wife's lack of attention to him or their children, there are certainly more constructive and less passive-aggressive ways to draw her attention to it. If he wanted a "mother-woman," then he ought to have married one.
Later, after the first night on which Edna swims out by herself into the ocean, Leonce gets irritated with Edna that she isn't feeling, or at least pretending to feel, amorous. He orders her to come inside, but she refuses.
She heard him moving about the room; every sound indicating impatience and irritation. Another time she would have gone in at his request. She would, through habit, have yielded to his desire; not with any sense of submission or obedience to his compelling wishes, but unthinkingly, as we walk, move, sit, stand, go through the daily treadmill of the life which has been portioned out to us.
Continuing to ignore her own feelings and her desire to remain outside on a lovely night, he then calls "fondly, with a note of entreaty," apparently unwilling to accept or believe that she would refuse him when she, evidently, never has before. However,
She perceived that her will had blazed up, stubborn and resistant. She could not at that moment have done other than denied and resisted. She wondered if her husband had ever spoken to her like that before, and if she had submitted to his command. Of course she had; she remembered that she had.
Certainly, a good husband would not become petulant and childish when his wife doesn't obey his every command, and nor would he wish her to ignore her own feelings only to gratify his. Edna needs a husband who can respect her will, and Leonce does not. They are not a good match.