“The case of the young Duke of Bordeaux is different.”

“Then you confess that a boy can’t be sent to school before he is seven years old?” she says with emphasis. [More logic.]

“No, my dear, I don’t confess that at all.  There is a great deal of difference between private and public education.”

“That’s precisely why I don’t want to send Charles to school yet.  He ought to be much stronger than he is, to go there.”

“Charles is very strong for his age.”

“Charles?  That’s the way with men!  Why, Charles has a very weak constitution; he takes after you. [Here she changes from tu to vous.] But if you are determined to get rid of your son, why put him out to board, of course.  I have noticed for some time that the dear child annoys you.”

“Annoys me?  The idea!  But we are answerable for our children, are we not?  It is time Charles’ education was began:  he is getting very bad habits here, he obeys no one, he thinks himself perfectly free to do as he likes, he hits everybody and nobody dares to hit him back.  He ought to be placed in the midst of his equals, or he will grow up with the most detestable temper.”

“Thank you:  so I am bringing Charles up badly!”

“I did not say that:  but you will always have excellent reasons for keeping him at home.”

Here the vous becomes reciprocal and the discussion takes a bitter turn on both sides.  Your wife is very willing to wound you by saying vous, but she feels cross when it becomes mutual.

“The long and the short of it is that you want to get my child away, you find that he is between us, you are jealous of your son, you want to tyrannize over me at your ease, and you sacrifice your boy!  Oh, I am smart enough to see through you!”

“You make me out like Abraham with his knife!  One would think there were no such things as schools!  So the schools are empty; nobody sends their children to school!”

“You are trying to make me appear ridiculous,” she retorts.  “I know that there are schools well enough, but people don’t send boys of six there, and Charles shall not start now.”

“Don’t get angry, my dear.”

“As if I ever get angry!  I am a woman and know how to suffer in silence.”

“Come, let us reason together.”

“You have talked nonsense enough.”

“It is time that Charles should learn to read and write; later in life, he will find difficulties sufficient to disgust him.”

Here, you talk for ten minutes without interruption, and you close with an appealing “Well?” armed with an intonation which suggests an interrogation point of the most crooked kind.

“Well!” she replies, “it is not yet time for Charles to go to school.”

You have gained nothing at all.

“But, my dear, Monsieur Deschars certainly sent his little Julius to school at six years.  Go and examine the schools and you will find lots of little boys of six there.”