"And I, in turn, beg that you will attend to this shopping yourself, my dear Alexandre. If you will, I'll promise to drive with you in the Bois this evening. We won't go until after dark, so I shall only have to put on a hat and mantle." "But this is the day of Madame de Mirecourt's reception. She has called on you twice, and you have never set foot in her house, so you really must do me the favour to go there this evening." "Make an evening toilet? Oh, no, indeed. It is entirely too much trouble." "That is not the question. One must fulfil one's duties to society, so you will accompany me to Madame de Mirecourt's this evening." "Society can do without me just as well as I can do without society. Society bores me. I shall not go to Madame de Mirecourt's." "Yes, you will." "When I say no, I mean no." "Zounds, madame--" "My dear, as I have told you very often, I married so I might get out of the convent, so I might lie in bed as late as I chose in the morning, so I might get rid of lessons, and so I might do nothing as long and as much as I pleased,--so I might be my own mistress, in short." "You are talking and reasoning like a child,--and like an utterly spoiled child." "That doesn't matter." "Ah, your guardian warned me! Why did I not believe him? I had no idea that such a person as you could exist. I said to myself, 'This indolence on the part of a girl of seventeen is nothing but the ennui caused by the monotony of convent life. When she marries, the duties and pleasures of society, the care of her house, and improving travel will cure her of her indolence, and--'" "Then that is the reason, I suppose, that you had the barbarity to propose a long journey to me only a day or two after our marriage," interrupted Madame de Luceval, in reproachful tones. "But, madame, travelling--" "Don't! The slightest allusion to it positively makes me shudder. A journey is the most fatiguing and disagreeable thing in the world. Think of nights spent in diligences or in horrid inns, and long walks and drives to see the pretended beauties or wonders of a country. I have asked you before, monsieur, not to even mention the subject of travelling to me. I have perfect horror of it." "Ah, madame, had I foreseen this--" "I understand; I should not have had the happiness of being Madame de Luceval." "Say, rather, that I should not have had the misfortune to be your husband." "A gallant speech after six months of married life, truly." "But you exasperate me beyond endurance, madame. I am the most unhappy man alive. I can stand it no longer. I must say what I have to say." "Do, by all means. But pray don't make such a fuss about it. I abhor a noise." "Very well, then, madame. I tell you very plainly, though very quietly, that it is a woman's duty to attend to the affairs of her household, and you do not pay the slightest attention to yours. If it were not for me, I don't know what would become of the house."