“You doubtless thought me wretched, but I am only wounded. You
discovered me sitting alone by the fire, and no Adolphe. I had just
finished putting the children to bed; they were asleep. Adolphe for the
tenth time had been invited out to a house where I do not go, where
they want Adolphe without his wife. There are drawing-rooms where he
goes without me, just at there are many pleasures in which he alone is
the guest. If he were M. de Navarreins and I a d’Espard, society would
never think of separating us; it would want us always together. His
habits are formed; he does not suspect the humiliation which weighs
upon my heart. Indeed, if he had the slightest inkling of this small
sorrow which I am ashamed to own, he would drop society, he would
become more of a prig than the people who come between us. But he would
hamper his progress, he would make enemies, he would raise up obstacles
by imposing me upon the salons where I would be subject to a thousand
slights. That is why I prefer my sufferings to what would happen were
they discovered.
“Adolphe will succeed! He carries my revenge in his beautiful head,
does this man of genius. One day the world shall pay for all these
slights. But when? Perhaps I shall be forty-five. My beautiful youth
will have passed in my chimney-corner, and with this thought: Adolphe
smiles, he is enjoying the society of fair women, he is playing the
devoted to them, while none of these attentions come my way.
“It may be that these will finally take him from me!
“No one undergoes slight without feeling it, and I feel that I am
slighted, though young, beautiful and virtuous. Now, can I keep from
thinking this way? Can I control my anger at the thought that Adolphe
is dining in the city without me? I take no part in his triumphs; I do
not hear the witty or profound remarks made to others! I could no
longer be content with bourgeois receptions whence he rescued me, upon
finding me _distinguee_, wealthy, young, beautiful and witty. There
lies the evil, and it is irremediable.
“In a word, for some cause, it is only since I cannot go to a certain
salon that I want to go there. Nothing is more natural of the ways of a
human heart. The ancients were wise in having their _gyneceums_. The
collisions between the pride of the women, caused by these gatherings,
though it dates back only four centuries, has cost our own day much
disaffection and numerous bitter debates.
“Be that as it may, my dear, Adolphe is always warmly welcomed when he
comes back home. Still, no nature is strong enough to await always with
the same ardor. What a morrow that will be, following the evening when
his welcome is less warm!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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