under certain circumstances
     Love in marriage is, as a rule, too much at his ease
     Rather do not give—­make yourself sought after
     Reckon yourself happy if in your husband you find a lover
     There are pious falsehoods which the Church excuses
     To be able to smoke a cigar without being sick
     Why mankind has chosen to call marriage a man-trap

MONSIEUR, MADAME AND BEBE

By Gustave Droz

BOOK 2.

CHAPTER XIII

THE BLUE NOTE-BOOK

Toward midnight mamma made a sign to me with her eyes, and under cover of a lively waltz we slipped out of the drawing-room.  In the hall the servants, who were passing to and fro, drew aside to let us go by them, but I felt that their eyes were fixed upon me with the curiosity which had pursued me since the morning.  The large door giving on to the park was open, although the night was cool, and in the shadow I could make out groups of country folk gathered there to catch a glimpse of the festivities through the windows.  These good people were laughing and whispering; they were silent for a moment as we advanced to ascend the staircase, but I once more felt that I was the mark of these inquisitive looks and the object of all these smiles.  The face of mamma, who accompanied me, was much flushed, and large tears were flowing from her eyes.

How was it that an event so gay for some was so sad for others?

When I think over it now I can hardly keep my countenance.  What silly terrors at that frightful yet charming moment!  Yet, after all, one exaggerates things a great deal.

On reaching the first floor mamma stopped, choking, took my head in her hands, and kissed me on the forehead, and exclaimed, “Valentine!” I was not greatly moved by this outburst, knowing that mamma, since she has grown a little too stout, has some difficulty in getting upstairs.  I judged, therefore, that the wish to take breath for a moment without appearing to do so had something to do with this sudden halt.

We entered the nuptial chamber; it was as coquettish as possible, refreshing to the eye, snug, elegant, and adorned with fine Louis XVI furniture, upholstered in Beauvais tapestry.  The bed, above all, was a marvel of elegance, but to tell the truth I had no idea of it till a week later.  At the outside it seemed to me that I was entering an austere-looking locality; the very air we breathed appeared to me to have something solemn and awe-striking about it.

“Here is your room, child,” said mamma; “but first of all come and sit here beside me, my dear girl.”

At these words we both burst into tears, and mamma then expressed herself as follows: 

“The kiss you are giving me, Valentine, is the last kiss that I shall have from you as a girl.  Your husband—­for Georges is that now—­”