“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. As to Madame de Fischtaminel, who is, in fact, connected with the affair, as you shall see, she, being unable to recriminate, abstains from words and recriminates in acts. We give permission to all to think that the speaker is Caroline herself, not the silly little Caroline of tender years. But Caroline when she has become a woman of thirty. “For instance,” she remarks to a young woman whom she is edifying, “you will have children, God willing.” “Madame,” I say, “don’t let us mix the deity up in this, unless it is an allusion—” “You are impertinent,” she replies, “you shouldn’t interrupt a woman—” “When she is busy with children, I know: but, madame, you ought not to trifle with the innocence of young ladies. Mademoiselle is going to be married, and if she were led to count upon the intervention of the Supreme Being in this affair, she would fall into serious errors. We should not deceive the young. Mademoiselle is beyond the age when girls are informed that their little brother was found under a cabbage.” “You evidently want to get me confused,” she replies, smiling and showing the loveliest teeth in the world. “I am not strong enough to argue with you, so I beg you to let me go on with Josephine. What was I saying?” “That if I get married, I shall have children,” returns the young lady.