Epistolary fiction; French fiction -- Translations into English; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Married women -- Fiction
Dear, the difficulties which would beset my life had appeared to
me clearly as in a vision, and I was sincerely anxious to make the
happiness of the man I married. Now, in the solitude of a life like
ours, marriage soon becomes intolerable unless the woman is the
presiding spirit. A woman in such a case needs the charm of a mistress,
combined with the solid qualities of a wife. To introduce an element
of uncertainty into pleasure is to prolong illusion, and render lasting
those selfish satisfactions which all creatures hold, and should shroud
a woman in expectancy, crown her sovereign, and invest her with an
exhaustless power, a redundancy of life, that makes everything blossom
around her. The more she is mistress of herself, the more certainly will
the love and happiness she creates be fit to weather the storms of life.
But, above all, I have insisted on the greatest secrecy in regard to
our domestic arrangements. A husband who submits to his wife's yoke
is justly held an object of ridicule. A woman's influence ought to be
entirely concealed. The charm of all we do lies in its unobtrusiveness.
If I have made it my task to raise a drooping courage and restore their
natural brightness to gifts which I have dimly descried, it must all
seem to spring from Louis himself.
Such is the mission to which I dedicate myself, a mission surely not
ignoble, and which might well satisfy a woman's ambition. Why, I could
glory in this secret which shall fill my life with interest, in this
task towards which my every energy shall be bent, while it remains
concealed from all but God and you.
I am very nearly happy now, but should I be so without a friendly heart
in which to pour the confession? For how make a confidant of him? My
happiness would wound him, and has to be concealed. He is sensitive as a
woman, like all men who have suffered much.
For three months we remained as we were before marriage. As you may
imagine, during this time I made a close study of many small personal
matters, which have more to do with love than is generally supposed. In
spite of my coldness, Louis grew bolder, and his nature expanded. I saw
on his face a new expression, a look of youth. The greater refinement
which I introduced into the house was reflected in his person.
Insensibly I became accustomed to his presence, and made another self
of him. By dint of constant watching I discovered how his mind and
countenance harmonize. "The animal that we call a husband," to quote
your words, disappeared, and one balmy evening I discovered in his stead
a lover, whose words thrilled me and on whose arm I leant with pleasure
beyond words. In short, to be open with you, as I would be with God,
before whom concealment is impossible, the perfect loyalty with which
he had kept his oath may have piqued me, and I felt a fluttering of
curiosity in my heart. Bitterly ashamed, I struggled with myself. Alas!
when pride is the only motive for resistance, excuses for capitulation
are soon found.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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