In these matters, you must imitate the English, who are unequalled in diplomacy: when they have something disagreeable to say to you, they will invariably say it through their wives. For instance, ask your landlord to do some repairs for you; tell him it rains in his house; that you are subject to rheumatism, and that his cardboard barrack will be your sepulchre, if he does not forthwith send you the mason and the carpenter. Perhaps you think he will take pity upon you and come to the rescue. Not he: not so silly. He sends his wife instead. That lady makes her appearance, looking anything but agreeable, and not over polite. She tells you that tenants are always full of complaints and there is no satisfying them, that she wishes the house were at Jericho, that the draughts are necessaries of existence, and if there were none, you would soon be poisoned by the exhalations from the bricks, and that it is evident you do not know when you are well off. She wishes you a more contented mind in the future, and takes her departure. Furious, you write to your landlord to complain of the unsatisfactory result of the interview, and receive a reply somewhat in this style: "Sir, if it only rested with me, you should not have to complain long, but this is how the matter stands: the rent of the house you occupy is my wife's pin-money (there is a good kind fellow for you now!), and these matters concern her alone. I have done my best to try and persuade her to do the repairs in question, but I regret to have to tell you, without success." So, as the law in England favours the landlord, and if your house should collapse while you held an unexpired lease on it, your landlord would not be bound to rebuild it, rather than be frozen or drowned within doors, you have the repairs done at your own expense, and there is an end of it. But let us come back to our _soirée musicale_, or rather let us go to it, since, not suspecting what was in store for us, we have accepted the invitation. At nine o'clock you present yourself. Your hostess comes forward, shakes hands with you, and makes you welcome. "How good of you to come, Mr. X--." ----"It's very kind of you to say so." ----"Do you sing?" ----"No, I'm afraid I do not." ----"I congratulate you then," Mrs. Bull has more than once whispered to me in reply. ----"Excuse me, but it is I who congratulate you. I should be sorry to spoil your charming evening...." ----"I must leave you, the music is going to begin."