“Yes, dear, in the married state, many things will happen to you which
you are far from expecting: but then others will happen which you
expect still less. For instance—”
The author (may we say the ingenious author?) _qui castigat ridendo
mores_, and who has undertaken the _Petty Troubles of Married Life_,
hardly needs to remark, that, for prudence’ sake, he here allows a lady
of high distinction to speak, and that he does not assume the
responsibility of her language, though he professes the most sincere
admiration for the charming person to whom he owes his acquaintance
with this petty trouble.
“For instance—” she says.
He nevertheless thinks proper to avow that this person is neither
Madame Foullepointe, nor Madame de Fischtaminel, nor Madame Deschars.
Madame Deschars is too prudish, Madame Foullepointe too absolute in her
household, and she knows it; indeed, what doesn’t she know? She is
good-natured, she sees good society, she wishes to have the best:
people overlook the vivacity of her witticisms, as, under louis XIV,
they overlooked the remarks of Madame Cornuel. They overlook a good
many things in her; there are some women who are the spoiled children
of public opinion.
As to Madame de Fischtaminel, who is, in fact, connected with the
affair, as you shall see, she, being unable to recriminate, abstains
from words and recriminates in acts.
We give permission to all to think that the speaker is Caroline
herself, not the silly little Caroline of tender years. But Caroline
when she has become a woman of thirty.
“For instance,” she remarks to a young woman whom she is edifying, “you
will have children, God willing.”
“Madame,” I say, “don’t let us mix the deity up in this, unless it is
an allusion—”
“You are impertinent,” she replies, “you shouldn’t interrupt a woman—”
“When she is busy with children, I know: but, madame, you ought not to
trifle with the innocence of young ladies. Mademoiselle is going to be
married, and if she were led to count upon the intervention of the
Supreme Being in this affair, she would fall into serious errors. We
should not deceive the young. Mademoiselle is beyond the age when girls
are informed that their little brother was found under a cabbage.”
“You evidently want to get me confused,” she replies, smiling and
showing the loveliest teeth in the world. “I am not strong enough to
argue with you, so I beg you to let me go on with Josephine. What was I
saying?”
“That if I get married, I shall have children,” returns the young lady.
“Very well. I will not represent things to you worse than they are, but
it is extremely probable that each child will cost you a tooth. With
every baby I have lost a tooth.”
“Happily,” I remark at this, “this trouble was with you less than
petty, it was positively nothing.”—They were side teeth.—“But take
notice, miss, that this vexation has no absolute, unvarying character
as such. The annoyance depends upon the condition of the tooth. If the
baby causes the loss of a decayed tooth, you are fortunate to have a
baby the more and a bad tooth the less. Don’t let us confound blessings
with bothers. Ah! if you were to lose one of your magnificent front
teeth, that would be another thing! And yet there is many a woman that
would give the best tooth in her head for a fine, healthy boy!”
“Well,” resumes Caroline, with animation, “at the risk of destroying
your illusions, poor child, I’ll just show you a petty trouble that
counts! Ah, it’s atrocious! And I won’t leave the subject of dress
which this gentleman considers the only subject we women are equal to.”