Is there a man as heedless of love’s mysteries as not to have admired,
over and over again, the light, mincing, even bewitching gait of a
woman who flies on her way to keep an assignation? She glides through
the crowd, like a snake through the grass. The costumes and stuffs of
the latest fashion spread out their dazzling attractions in the shop
windows without claiming her attention; on, on she goes like the
faithful animal who follows the invisible tracks of his master; she is
deaf to all compliments, blind to all glances, insensible even to the
light touch of the crowd, which is inevitable amid the circulation of
Parisian humanity. Oh, how deeply she feels the value of a minute! Her
gait, her toilet, the expression of her face, involve her in a thousand
indiscretions, but oh, what a ravishing picture she presents to the
idler, and what an ominous page for the eye of a husband to read, is
the face of this woman when she returns from the secret place of
rendezvous in which her heart ever dwells! Her happiness is impressed
even on the unmistakable disarray of her hair, the mass of whose wavy
tresses has not received from the broken comb of the celibate that
radiant lustre, that elegant and well-proportioned adjustment which
only the practiced hand of her maid can give. And what charming ease
appears in her gait! How is it possible to describe the emotion which
adds such rich tints to her complexion!—which robs her eyes of all
their assurance and gives to them an expression of mingled melancholy
and delight, of shame which is yet blended with pride!
These observations, stolen from our Meditation, _Of the Last Symptoms_,
and which are really suggested by the situation of a woman who tries to
conceal everything, may enable you to divine by analogy the rich crop
of observation which is left for you to harvest when your wife arrives
home, or when, without having committed the great crime she innocently
lets out the secrets of her thoughts. For our own part we never see a
landing without wishing to set up there a mariner’s card and a
weather-cock.
As the means to be employed for constructing a sort of domestic
observatory depend altogether on places and circumstances, we must
leave to the address of a jealous husband the execution of the methods
suggested in this Meditation.
MEDITATION XVI.
THE CHARTER OF MARRIAGE.
I acknowledge that I really know of but one house in Paris which is
managed in accordance with the system unfolded in the two preceding
Meditations. But I ought to add, also, that I have built up my system
on the example of that house. The admirable fortress I allude to
belonged to a young councillor of state, who was mad with love and
jealousy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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