The Pretentious Young Ladies | Page 7

she jabbering about?
MAD. Here is my cousin, father, who will tell as well as I that
matrimony ought never to happen till after other adventures. A lover, to
be agreeable, must understand how to utter fine sentiments, to breathe
soft, tender, and passionate vows; his courtship must be according to
the rules. In the first place, he should behold the fair one of whom he
becomes enamoured either at a place of worship, [Footnote: See note
15, page 33.] or when out walking, or at some public ceremony; or else
he should be introduced to her by a relative or a friend, as if by chance,
and when he leaves her he should appear in a pensive and melancholy
mood. For some time he should conceal his passion from the object of
his love, but pay her several visits, in every one of which he ought to
introduce some gallant subject to exercise the wits of all the company.
When the day comes to make his declarations--which generally should
be contrived in some shady garden-walk while the company is at a
distance--it should be quickly followed by anger, which is shown by
our blushing, and which, for a while, banishes the lover from our
presence. He finds afterwards means to pacify us, to accustom us
gradually to hear him depict his passion, and to draw from us that
confession which causes us so much pain. After that come the
adventures, the rivals who thwart mutual inclination, the persecutions
of fathers, the jealousies arising without any foundation, complaints,
despair, running away with, and its consequences. Thus things are
carried on in fashionable life, and veritable gallantry cannot dispense
with these forms. But to come out point-blank with a proposal of
marriage,--to make no love but with a marriage-contract, and begin a
novel at the wrong end! Once more, father, nothing can be more
tradesmanlike, and the mere thought of it makes me sick at heart.

GORG. What deuced nonsense is all this? That is highflown language
with a vengeance!
CAT. Indeed, uncle, my cousin hits the nail on the head. How can we
receive kindly those who are so awkward in gallantry. I could lay a
wager they have not even seen a map of the country of _Tenderness_,
and that _Love-letters_, _Trifling attentions_, _Polite epistles_, and
_Sprightly verses_, are regions to them unknown.
[Footnote: The map of the country of Tenderness (_la carte de Tendre_)
is found in the first part of _Clélie_ (see note 2, page 146); Love-letter
(_Billetdoux_); Polite epistle (_Billet galant_); Trifling attentions
(_Petit Soins_); Sprightly verses (_Jolts vers_), are the names of
villages to be found in the map, which is a curiosity in its way.]
Do you not see that the whole person shews it, and that their external
appearance is not such as to give at first sight a good opinion of them.
To come and pay a visit to the object of their love with a leg without
any ornaments, a hat without any feathers, a head with its locks not
artistically arranged, and a coat that suffers from a paucity of ribbons.
Heavens! what lovers are these! what stinginess in dress! what
barrenness of conversation! It is not to be allowed; it is not to be borne.
I also observed that their ruffs
[Footnote: The ruff (_rabat_) was at first only the shirt-collar pulled out
and worn outside the coat. Later ruffs were worn, which were not
fastened to the shirt, sometimes adorned with lace, and tied in front
with two strings with tassels. The rabat was very fashionable during
the youthful years of Louis XIV.]
were not made by the fashionable milliner, and that their breeches were
not big enough by more than half-a-foot.
GORG. I think they are both mad, nor can I understand anything of this
gibberish. Cathos, and you Madelon...
MAD. Pray, father, do not use those strange names, and call us by
some other.
GORG. What do you mean by those strange names? Are they not the
names your godfathers and godmothers gave you?
MAD. Good Heavens! how vulgar you are! I confess I wonder you
could possibly be the father of such an intelligent girl as I am. Did ever
anybody in genteel style talk of Cathos or of Madelon? And must you
not admit that either of these names would be sufficient to disgrace the

finest novel in the world?
CAT. It is true, uncle, an ear rather delicate suffers extremely at hearing
these words pronounced, and the name of Polixena, which my cousin
has chosen, and that of Amintha, which I took, possesses a charm,
which you must needs acknowledge.
[Footnote: The precieuses often changed their names into more poetical
and romantic appellations. The Marquise de Rambouillet, whose real
name was Catherine, was known under