France -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"We will go in now," she said; "give me your arm."
"Oh, madame, how courageous you are!" said Mme. Mauperin, advancing to
meet Mme. Bourjot when she entered the room. "It is not wise of you,
though, at all. I will have your carriage ordered."
"No, please don't, thank you," replied Mme. Bourjot quickly. "I think I
promised you that I would sing; I am quite ready now," and she went
across to the piano, gracious and valiant once more, with that heroic
smile beneath which society actors conceal from the public the tears
they are weeping within themselves, and the wounds which discharge
themselves into their hearts.
XX
Mme. Bourjot had married in order that two important business houses
should be united; for the sake of amalgamating various interests she had
been wedded to a man whom she did not know, and at the end of a week of
married life she had felt all the contempt that a wife can possibly feel
for a husband. It was not that she had expected anything very ideal, nor
that she had looked on marriage as a romantic and imaginative girl so
often does. She was remarkably intelligent herself, and seriously
inclined, her mind had been formed and nurtured by reading, study, and
acquirements which were almost more suitable for a man. All that she
asked from the companion of her life was that he should be intellectual
and intelligent, a being in whom she could place all her ambitions and
her pride as a married woman, a man with a brilliant future before him,
capable of winning for himself one of those immense fortunes to which
money nowadays leads, and who should prove himself able to leap over the
gaps of modern society to a high place in the Ministry, the Public
Works, or the Exchequer.
All her castles in the air crumbled away with this husband, whom she
found day by day more and more hopelessly shallow, more and more
incapable, devoid of all that should have been in him, and which was in
her instead, more narrow-minded, more mean and petty as time went on,
and all this mingled with and contradicted by all the violences and
weaknesses of a childish disposition.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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