On and after the Revolution, our vanquished Caroline adopts an infernal system, the effect of which is to make you regret your victory every hour.  She becomes the opposition!  Should Adolphe have one more such triumph, he would appear before the Court of Assizes, accused of having smothered his wife between two mattresses, like Shakespeare’s Othello.  Caroline puts on the air of a martyr; her submission is positively killing.  On every occasion she assassinates Adolphe with a “Just as you like!” uttered in tones whose sweetness is something fearful.  No elegiac poet could compete with Caroline, who utters elegy upon elegy:  elegy in action, elegy in speech:  her smile is elegiac, her silence is elegiac, her gestures are elegiac.  Here are a few examples, wherein every household will find some of its impressions recorded: 

AFTER BREAKFAST.  “Caroline, we go to-night to the Deschars’ grand ball you know.”

“Yes, love.”

AFTER DINNER.  “What, not dressed yet, Caroline?” exclaims Adolphe, who has just made his appearance, magnificently equipped.

He finds Caroline arrayed in a gown fit for an elderly lady of strong conversational powers, a black moire with an old-fashioned fan-waist.  Flowers, too badly imitated to deserve the name of artificial, give a gloomy aspect to a head of hair which the chambermaid has carelessly arranged.  Caroline’s gloves have already seen wear and tear.

“I am ready, my dear.”

“What, in that dress?”

“I have no other.  A new dress would have cost three hundred francs.”

“Why did you not tell me?”

“I, ask you for anything, after what has happened!”

“I’ll go alone,” says Adolphe, unwilling to be humiliated in his wife.

“I dare say you are very glad to,” returns Caroline, in a captious tone, “it’s plain enough from the way you are got up.”

Eleven persons are in the parlor, all invited to dinner by Adolphe.  Caroline is there, looking as if her husband had invited her too.  She is waiting for dinner to be served.

“Sir,” says the parlor servant in a whisper to his master, “the cook doesn’t know what on earth to do!”

“What’s the matter?”

“You said nothing to her, sir:  and she has only two side-dishes, the beef, a chicken, a salad and vegetables.”

“Caroline, didn’t you give the necessary orders?”

“How did I know that you had company, and besides I can’t take it upon myself to give orders here!  You delivered me from all care on that point, and I thank heaven for it every day of my life.”

Madame de Fischtaminel has called to pay Madame Caroline a visit.  She finds her coughing feebly and nearly bent double over her embroidery.

“Ah, so you are working those slippers for your dear Adolphe?”

Adolphe is standing before the fire-place as complacently as may be.

“No, madame, it’s for a tradesman who pays me for them:  like the convicts, my labor enables me to treat myself to some little comforts.”