Come!  To action!  Inhale a few mouthfuls of disdain and you will exhale clouds of incense.  Dare to reign!  Are you not next to nothing here in your chimney-corner?  Sooner or later the pretty spouse, the beloved wife will die, if you continue like this, in a dressing-gown.  Come, and you shall perpetuate your sway through the arts of coquetry!  Show yourself in salons, and your pretty foot shall trample down the love of your rivals.’

“The other voice comes from my white marble mantel, which rustles like a garment.  I think I see a veritable goddess crowned with white roses, and bearing a palm-branch in her hand.  Two blue eyes smile down on me.  This simple image of virtue says to me: 

“’Be content!  Remain good always, and make this man happy.  That is the whole of your mission.  The sweetness of angels triumphs over all pain.  Faith in themselves has enabled the martyrs to obtain solace even on the brasiers of their tormentors.  Suffer a moment; you shall be happy in the end.’

“Sometimes Adolphe enters at that moment and I am content.  But, my dear, I have less patience than love.  I almost wish to tear in pieces the woman who can go everywhere, and whose society is sought out by men and women alike.  What profound thought lies in the line of Moliere: 

  “‘The world, dear Agnes, is a curious thing!’

“You know nothing of this petty trouble, you fortunate Mathilde!  You are well born.  You can do a great deal for me.  Just think!  I can write you things that I dared not speak about.  Your visits mean so much; come often to see your poor

        “Caroline.”

“Well,” said I to the notary’s clerk, “do you know what was the nature of this letter to the late Bourgarel?”

“No.”

“A note of exchange.”

Neither clerk nor notary understood my meaning.  Do you?

THE PANGS OF INNOCENCE.

“Yes, dear, in the married state, many things will happen to you which you are far from expecting:  but then others will happen which you expect still less.  For instance—­”

The author (may we say the ingenious author?) qui castigat ridendo mores, and who has undertaken the Petty Troubles of Married Life, hardly needs to remark, that, for prudence’ sake, he here allows a lady of high distinction to speak, and that he does not assume the responsibility of her language, though he professes the most sincere admiration for the charming person to whom he owes his acquaintance with this petty trouble.

“For instance—­” she says.

He nevertheless thinks proper to avow that this person is neither Madame Foullepointe, nor Madame de Fischtaminel, nor Madame Deschars.

Madame Deschars is too prudish, Madame Foullepointe too absolute in her household, and she knows it; indeed, what doesn’t she know?  She is good-natured, she sees good society, she wishes to have the best:  people overlook the vivacity of her witticisms, as, under louis XIV, they overlooked the remarks of Madame Cornuel.  They overlook a good many things in her; there are some women who are the spoiled children of public opinion.