The Physiology of Marriage, part 3 | Page 6

his brains out."
Madame D----- calmly continued the conversation with Monsieur
C-----. She asked him to hand her a little writing desk of red leather
which stood on the table, and he brought it to her.
"Thanks, my dear," she said to him; "go on talking, I am listening to
you."
C----- talked away and she replied, all the while writing the following
note:

"As soon as you become jealous of C----- you two can blow out each
other's brains at your pleasure. As for you, you may die; but brains--
you haven't any brains to blow out."
"My dear friend," she said to C-----, "I beg you will light this candle.
Good, you are charming. And now be kind enough to leave me and let
me get up, and give this letter to Monsieur d'H-----, who is waiting at
the door."
All this was said with admirable coolness. The tones and intonations of
her voice, the expression of her face showed no emotion. Her audacity
was crowned with complete success. On receiving the answer from the
hand of Monsieur C-----, Monsieur d'H----- felt his wrath subside. He
was troubled with only one thing and that was how to disguise his
inclination to laugh.
The more torch-light one flings into the immense cavern which we are
now trying to illuminate, the more profound it appears. It is a
bottomless abyss. It appears to us that our task will be accomplished
more agreeably and more instructively if we show the principles of
strategy put into practice in the case of a woman, when she has reached
a high degree of vicious accomplishment. An example suggests more
maxims and reveals the existence of more methods than all possible
theories.
One day at the end of a dinner given to certain intimate friends by
Prince Lebrun, the guests, heated by champagne, were discussing the
inexhaustible subject of feminine artifice. The recent adventure which
was credited to the Countess R. D. S. J. D. A-----, apropos of a
necklace, was the subject first broached. A highly esteemed artist, a
gifted friend of the emperor, was vigorously maintaining the opinion,
which seemed somewhat unmanly, that it was forbidden to a man to
resist successfully the webs woven by a woman.
"It is my happy experience," he said, "that to them nothing is sacred."
The ladies protested.
"But I can cite an instance in point."
"It is an exception!"
"Let us hear the story," said a young lady.
"Yes, tell it to us," cried all the guests.
The prudent old gentleman cast his eyes around, and, after having
formed his conclusions as to the age of the ladies, smiled and said:

"Since we are all experienced in life, I consent to relate the adventure."
Dead silence followed, and the narrator read the following from a little
book which he had taken from his pocket: x
I was head over ears in love with the Comtesse de -----. I was twenty
and I was ingenuous. She deceived me. I was angry; she threw me over.
I was ingenuous, I repeat, and I was grieved to lose her. I was twenty;
she forgave me. And as I was twenty, as I was always ingenuous,
always deceived, but never again thrown over by her, I believed myself
to have been the best beloved of lovers, consequently the happiest of
men. The countess had a friend, Madame de T-----, who seemed to
have some designs on me, but without compromising her dignity; for
she was scrupulous and respected the proprieties. One day while I was
waiting for the countess in her Opera box, I heard my name called from
a contiguous box. It was Madame de T-----.
"What," she said, "already here? Is this fidelity or merely a want of
something to do? Won't you come to me?"
Her voice and her manner had a meaning in them, but I was far from
inclined at that moment to indulge in a romance.
"Have you any plans for this evening?" she said to me. "Don't make
any! If I cheer your tedious solitude you ought to be devoted to me.
Don't ask any questions, but obey. Call my servants."
I answered with a bow and on being requested to leave the Opera box, I
obeyed.
"Go to this gentleman's house," she said to the lackey. "Say he will not
be home till to-morrow."
She made a sign to him, he went to her, she whispered in his ear, and
he left us. The Opera began. I tried to venture on a few words, but she
silenced me; some one might be listening. The first act ended, the
lackey brought back a note, and told her that everything was ready.
Then she smiled, asked for my hand, took me off, put me in her