Furthermore, an author who speaks for himself in the middle of his book, resembles the old fellow in "The Speaking Picture," when he puts his face in the hole cut in the painting. The author does not forget that in the Chamber, no one can take the floor _between two votes_. Enough, therefore! Here follows the female portion of the book: for, to resemble marriage perfectly, it ought to be more or less hermaphroditic. PETTY TROUBLES OF MARRIED LIFE HUSBANDS DURING THE SECOND MONTH. Two young married women, Caroline and Stephanie, who had been early friends at M'lle Machefer's boarding school, one of the most celebrated educational institutions in the Faubourg St. Honore, met at a ball given by Madame de Fischtaminel, and the following conversation took place in a window-seat in the boudoir. It was so hot that a man had acted upon the idea of going to breathe the fresh night air, some time before the two young women. He had placed himself in the angle of the balcony, and, as there were many flowers before the window, the two friends thought themselves alone. This man was the author's best friend. One of the two ladies, standing at the corner of the embrasure, kept watch by looking at the boudoir and the parlors. The other had so placed herself as not to be in the draft, which was nevertheless tempered by the muslin and silk curtains. The boudoir was empty, the ball was just beginning, the gaming-tables were open, offering their green cloths and their packs of cards still compressed in the frail case placed upon them by the customs office. The second quadrille was in progress. All who go to balls will remember that phase of large parties when the guests are not yet all arrived, but when the rooms are already filled --a moment which gives the mistress of the house a transitory pang of terror. This moment is, other points of comparison apart, like that which decides a victory or the loss of a battle. You will understand, therefore, how what was meant to be a secret now obtains the honors of publicity. "Well, Caroline?" "Well, Stephanie?" "Well?" "Well?" A double sigh. "Have you forgotten our agreement?" "No." "Why haven't you been to see me, then?" "I am never left alone. Even here we shall hardly have time to talk." "Ah! if Adolphe were to get into such habits as that!" exclaimed Caroline. "You saw us, Armand and me, when he paid me what is called, I don't know why, his court." "Yes, I admired him, I thought you very happy, you had found your ideal, a fine, good-sized man, always well dressed, with yellow gloves, his beard well shaven, patent leather boots, a clean shirt, exquisitely neat, and so attentive--" "Yes, yes, go on."