In _Georgette_, I have sketched the life of a kept woman; she ends in a way not likely to attract imitators. In _Brother Jacques_, I have depicted a gambler, and shown to what lengths that horrible passion may carry us. In the _Barber of Paris_ two men yield to their respective passions, avarice and libertinage. Both are punished wherein they have sinned. _Jean_ proves that a worthily placed passion may make us blush for our manners, for our ignorance, and may arouse our disgust of bad company and low resorts. In the _Milkmaid of Montfermeil_, I have tried to prove that money expended in benefactions reaps a better harvest than that squandered in follies. _André the Savoyard_ is the story of a poor child of the mountains; by behaving becomingly, by assisting his mother and brother, by giving all that he owns to his benefactress, he succeeds in being happy and in conquering a hopeless love. _Sister Anne_ is a girl seduced and abandoned. Her seducer, confronted by his mistress and his wife at once, is given a rough lesson. _The Wife, the Husband and the Lover_ presents only too true a picture of the conduct of many married people. _The Natural Man and the Civilized Man_ must demonstrate the advantages of education. If these works have not a moral, it is probably because I was unable to write them with sufficient skill to bring it home to my readers. But I have said enough, yes, too much, of my novels; and all apropos of this poor _Cocu_! In heaven’s name, mesdames, do not let the title alarm you. The epigraph of the book must have reassured you to some slight extent: read on therefore without fear, do not condemn without a hearing. Perhaps you will find this novel less hilarious than you imagine; perhaps indeed you will think that I might have, that I should have presented my hero in quite a different guise. But if this novel, such as it is, does not please you, forgive me, mesdames; I will try to do better in another work; for _Le Cocu_, which I offer you to-day, will not, I trust, be the last that I shall write. CH. PAUL DE KOCK. LE COCU I A READING ROOM “Madame, give me the _Constitutionnel_.” “They are all in use at the moment, monsieur.” “Well, then give me the _Courrier Français_.” “Here’s the first sheet of it, monsieur. You shall have the rest in a moment.” “When I read a newspaper, madame, I like to have it whole; with this new fashion of yours, of cutting the paper in two, you sometimes make us wait at the most interesting places, and that is very unpleasant.” “But, monsieur, we can’t take ten copies of the same paper! The expenses are big enough already! By cutting the paper, it is easier to accommodate a number of people, and the second sheet of the _Courrier Français_ will certainly be returned before you have read the first.” “That is not certain. I am not one of those people who spend an hour reading a column. I want a whole paper.” “Will you have the _Débats_?” “Very well, give me the _Débats_.”