husbands.  Like Napoleon, the husband is thenceforth condemned to victories which, in spite of their number, do not prevent the first defeat from crushing him.  The woman, so flattered by the perseverance, so delighted with the ardor of a lover, calls the same things brutality in a husband.  You, who talk of marrying, and who will marry, have you ever meditated on the Civil Code?  I myself have never muddied my feet in that hovel of commentators, that garret of gossip, called the Law-school.  I have never so much as opened the Code; but I see its application on the vitals of society.  The Code, my dear Paul, makes woman a ward; it considers her a child, a minor.  Now how must we govern children?  By fear.  In that one word, Paul, is the curb of the beast.  Now, feel your own pulse!  Have you the strength to play the tyrant,—­you, so gentle, so kind a friend, so confiding; you, at whom I have laughed, but whom I love, and love enough to reveal to you my science?  For this is science.  Yes, it proceeds from a science which the Germans are already calling Anthropology.  Ah! if I had not already solved the mystery of life by pleasure, if I had not a profound antipathy for those who think instead of act, if I did not despise the ninnies who are silly enough to believe in the truth of a book, when the sands of the African deserts are made of the ashes of I know not how many unknown and pulverized Londons, Romes, Venices, and Parises, I would write a book on modern marriages made under the influence of the Christian system, and I’d stick a lantern on that heap of sharp stones among which lie the votaries of the social ‘multiplicamini.’  But the question is, Does humanity require even an hour of my time?  And besides, isn’t the more reasonable use of ink that of snaring hearts by writing love-letters?—­Well, shall you bring the Comtesse de Manerville here, and let us see her?”

“Perhaps,” said Paul.

“We shall still be friends,” said de Marsay.

“If—­” replied Paul.

“Don’t be uneasy; we will treat you politely, as Maison-Rouge treated the English at Fontenoy.”

CHAPTER II

The pink of fashion

Though the foregoing conversation affected the Comte de Manerville somewhat, he made it a point of duty to carry out his intentions, and he returned to Bordeaux during the winter of the year 1821.

The expenses he incurred in restoring and furnishing his family mansion sustained the reputation for elegance which had preceded him.  Introduced through his former connections to the royalist society of Bordeaux, to which he belonged as much by his personal opinions as by his name and fortune, he soon obtained a fashionable pre-eminence.  His knowledge of life, his manners, his Parisian acquirements enchanted the Faubourg Saint-Germain of Bordeaux.  An old marquise made use of a term formerly in vogue at court to express the flowery beauty of the fops and beaux of the olden time, whose language and demeanor were social laws:  she called him “the pink of fashion.”  The liberal clique caught up the word and used it satirically as a nickname, while the royalist party continued to employ it in good faith.