Parisian Points of View | Page 6

done, quite
done--he wouldn't be caught again. He would keep carefully away from
coming-out balls; they were too dangerous a form of gayety. Marriage
did not tempt him in the least. He had not had enough of a bachelor's
life yet--besides, he knew of nothing more absurd than those marriages
between cousins. The true pleasure of marriage, he said, must be to put
into one's life something new and unexpected, and to call by her first
name, all at once, on Tuesday morning, a person whom one didn't so
call Monday night. But a person whom one already knew well, where
would be the pleasure? He made a movement, Aunt Louise; did you
see?"
"I saw--"
"He recognized the phrase."
"True. I remember--"
"Ah! but you did not say that phrase only--you said all the others. But
that is nothing as yet, Aunt Louise. Do you know what was his
principal objection to a marriage with me? Do you know what he told
Robert? That he had seen me in evening-dress the night before for the
first time, and that I was too thin! Too thin! Ah! that was a cruel blow
to me! For it was true. I was thin. The evening after Gabrielle had told
me that awful fact, that evening in undressing I looked at my poor little

shoulders, with their poor little salt-cellars, and I had a terrible spasm
of sorrow--a flood of tears that wouldn't stop--a torrent, a real torrent;
and then mamma appeared. I was alone, disrobed, hair flying, studying
my shoulders, deploring their meagreness--a true picture of despair!
Mamma took me in her arms. 'My angel, my poor dear, what is the
matter?' I answered only by sobbing. 'My child, tell me all.' Mamma
was very anxious, but I could not speak; tears choked my voice. 'My
dearest, do you wish to kill me?' So to reassure mamma I managed to
say between my sobs: 'I am too thin, mamma; last night Gontran
thought me too thin!' At that mamma began to laugh heartily; but as she
was good-humored that evening, after laughing she explained to me
that she, at seventeen, had been much thinner than I, and she promised
me in the most solemn manner that I should grow stouter. Mamma
spoke true; I have fattened up. Will you have the goodness, sir, to
declare to our aunt that the salt-cellars have entirely disappeared, and
that you cannot have against me, in that respect, any legitimate cause of
complaint?"
"I will declare so very willingly; but you will permit me to add--"
"I will permit you no such thing. I have the floor, let me speak; but you
will soon have a chance to justify yourself. I intend to put you through
a little cross-questioning."
"I'll wait, then--"
"Yes, do. So last spring I began my first campaign. I do not know, Aunt
Louise, what the customs were in your time, but I know that to-day, at
the present time, the condition of young girls is one of extreme severity.
We are kept confined, closely confined, till eighteen, for mamma was
very indulgent in bringing me out when I was only seventeen; but
mamma is goodness itself, and then she isn't coquettish for a sou--she
didn't mind admitting that she had a marriageable daughter. All
mothers are not like that, and I know some who are glad to put off the
public and official exhibition of their poor children so as to gain a year.
At the same time that they race at Longchamps and Chantilly the great
fillies of the year, they take from their boxes the great heiresses of the
year who are ripe for matrimony, and in a series of white balls given for
that purpose, between Easter Sunday and the Grand Prix, they are made
to take little trial gallops before connoisseurs. They have to work
rapidly and find a buyer before the Grand Prix; for after that all is up,

the young girls are packed back to their governesses, dancing-masters,
and literary professors. The campaign is over. That is all for the year.
They are not seen again, the poor things, till after Lent. So mamma
took me last year to a dozen large balls, which were sad and sorrowful
for me. He was not there! He didn't wish to marry! He told it to every
one insolently, satirically. He would never, never, never marry! He told
it to me."
"At your mother's request."
"Yes, that is true. I know since that it was at mamma's petition that he
talked that way; she hoped it would prevent my being stubborn in my
craze for him."
"Craze!" exclaimed Aunt Louise.
"Excuse me, Aunt Louise, it is a word of to-day."
"And means--"
"It means a sort of unexplainable, absurd, and