“Bah!” exclaimed Karl Massouligny, “the question of complaisant husbands
is a difficult one. I have seen many kinds, and yet I am unable to give
an opinion about any of them. I have often tried to determine whether
they are blind, weak or clairvoyant. I believe that there are some which
belong to each of these categories.
“Let us quickly pass over the blind ones. They cannot rightly be called
complaisant, since they do not know, but they are good creatures who
cannot see farther than their nose. It is a curious and interesting
thing to notice the ease with which men and women can, be deceived. We
are taken in by the slightest trick of those who surround us, by our
children, our friends, our servants, our tradespeople. Humanity is
credulous, and in order to discover deceit in others, we do not display
one-tenth the shrewdness which we use when we, in turn, wish to deceive
some one else.
“Clairvoyant husbands may be divided into three classes: Those who have
some interest, pecuniary, ambitious or otherwise, in their wife's
having love affairs. These ask only to safeguard appearances as much as
possible, and they are satisfied.
“Next come those who get angry. What a beautiful novel one could write
about them!
“Finally the weak ones! Those who are afraid of scandal.
“There are also those who are powerless, or, rather, tired, who flee
from the duties of matrimony through fear of ataxia or apoplexy, who are
satisfied to see a friend run these risks.
“But I once met a husband of a rare species, who guarded against the
common accident in a strange and witty manner.
“In Paris I had made the acquaintance of an elegant, fashionable couple.
The woman, nervous, tall, slender, courted, was supposed to have had
many love adventures. She pleased me with her wit, and I believe that I
pleased her also. I courted her, a trial courting to which she
answered with evident provocations. Soon we got to tender glances, hand
pressures, all the little gallantries which precede the final attack.
“Nevertheless, I hesitated. I consider that, as a rule, the majority of
society intrigues, however short they may be, are not worth the trouble
which they give us and the difficulties which may arise. I therefore
mentally compared the advantages and disadvantages which I might expect,
and I thought I noticed that the husband suspected me.
“One evening, at a ball, as I was saying tender things to the young
woman in a little parlor leading from the big hall where the dancing
was going on, I noticed in a mirror the reflection of some one who was
watching me. It was he. Our looks met and then I saw him turn his head
and walk away.
“I murmured: 'Your husband is spying on us.'
“She seemed dumbfounded and asked: 'My husband?'
“'Yes, he has been watching us for some time:
“'Nonsense! Are you sure?'
“'Very sure.'
“'How strange! He is usually extraordinarily pleasant to all my
friends.'
“'Perhaps he guessed that I love you!'
“'Nonsense! You are not the first one to pay attention to me. Every
woman who is a little in view drags behind her a herd of admirers.'
“'Yes. But I love you deeply.'
“'Admitting that that is true, does a husband ever guess those things?'
“'Then he is not jealous?'
“'No-no!'
“She thought for an instant and then continued: 'No. I do not think that
I ever noticed any jealousy on his part.'
“'Has he never-watched you?'
“'No. As I said, he is always agreeable to my friends.'
“From that day my courting became much more assiduous. The woman did not
please me any more than before, but the probable jealousy of her husband
tempted me greatly.
“As for her, I judged her coolly and clearly. She had a certain worldly
charm, due to a quick, gay, amiable and superficial mind, but no real,
deep attraction. She was, as I have already said, an excitable little
being, all on the surface, with rather a showy elegance. How can I
explain myself? She was an ornament, not a home.
“One day, after taking dinner with her, her husband said to me, just as
I was leaving: 'My dear friend' (he now called me 'friend'), 'we soon
leave for the country. It is a great pleasure to my wife and myself
to entertain people whom we like. We would be very pleased to have you
spend a month with us. It would be very nice of you to do so.'
“I was dumbfounded, but I accepted.
“A month later I arrived at their estate of Vertcresson, in Touraine.
They were waiting for me at the station, five miles from the chateau.
There were three of them, she, the husband and a gentleman unknown to
me, the Comte de Morterade, to whom I was introduced. He appeared to
be delighted to make my acquaintance, and the strangest ideas passed
through my mind while we trotted along the beautiful road between two
hedges. I was saying to myself: 'Let's see, what can this mean? Here is
a husband who cannot doubt that his wife and I are on more than friendly
terms, and yet he invites me to his house, receives me like an old
friend and seems to say: “Go ahead, my friend, the road is clear!”'
“Then I am introduced to a very pleasant gentleman, who seems already
to have settled down in the house, and--and who is perhaps trying to
get out of it, and who seems as pleased at my arrival as the husband
himself.
“Is it some former admirer who wishes to retire? One might think
so. But, then, would these two men tacitly have come to one of these
infamous little agreements so common in society? And it is proposed to
me that I should quietly enter into the pact and carry it out. All hands
and arms are held out to me. All doors and hearts are open to me.
“And what about her? An enigma. She cannot be ignorant of everything.
However--however--Well, I cannot understand it.
“The dinner was very gay and cordial. On leaving the table the husband
and his friend began to play cards, while I went out on the porch to
look at the moonlight with madame. She seemed to be greatly affected
by nature, and I judged that the moment for my happiness was near. That
evening she was really delightful. The country had seemed to make her
more tender. Her long, slender waist looked pretty on this stone porch
beside a great vase in which grew some flowers. I felt like dragging
her out under the trees, throwing myself at her feet and speaking to her
words of love.
“Her husband's voice called 'Louise!'
“'Yes, dear.'
“'You are forgetting the tea.'
“'I'll go and see about it, my friend.'
“We returned to the house, and she gave us some tea. When the two men
had finished playing cards, they were visibly tired. I had to go to my
room. I did not get to sleep till late, and then I slept badly.
“An excursion was decided upon for the following afternoon, and we went
in an open carriage to visit some ruins. She and I were in the back of
the vehicle and they were opposite us, riding backward. The conversation
was sympathetic and agreeable. I am an orphan, and it seemed to me as
though I had just found my family, I felt so at home with them.
“Suddenly, as she had stretched out her foot between her husband's legs,
he murmured reproachfully: 'Louise, please don't wear out your old
shoes yourself. There is no reason for being neater in Paris than in the
country.'
“I lowered my eyes. She was indeed wearing worn-out shoes, and I noticed
that her stockings were not pulled up tight.
“She had blushed and hidden her foot under her dress. The friend was
looking out in the distance with an indifferent and unconcerned look.
“The husband offered me a cigar, which I accepted. For a few days it was
impossible for me to be alone with her for two minutes; he was with us
everywhere. He was delightful to me, however.
“One morning he came to get me to take a walk before breakfast, and
the conversation happened to turn on marriage. I spoke a little about
solitude and about how charming life can be made by the affection of a
woman. Suddenly he interrupted me, saying: 'My friend, don't talk about
things you know nothing about. A woman who has no other reason for
loving you will not love you long. All the little coquetries which make
them so exquisite when they do not definitely belong to us cease as soon
as they become ours. And then--the respectable women--that is to say our
wives--are--are not--in fact do not understand their profession of wife.
Do you understand?'
“He said no more, and I could not guess his thoughts.
“Two days after this conversation he called me to his room quite early,
in order to show me a collection of engravings. I sat in an easy chair
opposite the big door which separated his apartment from his wife's, and
behind this door I heard some one walking and moving, and I was
thinking very little of the engravings, although I kept exclaiming: 'Oh,
charming! delightful! exquisite!'
“He suddenly said: 'Oh, I have a beautiful specimen in the next room.
I'll go and get it.'
“He ran to the door quickly, and both sides opened as though for a
theatrical effect.
“In a large room, all in disorder, in the midst of skirts, collars,
waists lying around on the floor, stood a tall, dried-up creature. The
lower part of her body was covered with an old, worn-out silk petticoat,
which was hanging limply on her shapeless form, and she was standing
in front of a mirror brushing some short, sparse blond hairs. Her arms
formed two acute angles, and as she turned around in astonishment I saw
under a common cotton chemise a regular cemetery of ribs, which were
hidden from the public gaze by well-arranged pads.
“The husband uttered a natural exclamation and came back, closing the
doors, and said: 'Gracious! how stupid I am! Oh, how thoughtless! My
wife will never forgive me for that!'
“I already felt like thanking him. I left three days later, after
cordially shaking hands with the two men and kissing the lady's fingers.
She bade me a cold good-by.”
Karl Massouligny was silent. Some one asked: “But what was the friend?”
“I don't know--however--however he looked greatly distressed to see me
leaving so soon.”