In spite of the grave crisis which the husband has reached, we do not
suppose that the lover has completely acquired the freedom of the city
in the marital establishment. Many husbands often suspect that their
wives have a lover, and yet they do not know upon which of the five or
six chosen ones of whom we have spoken their suspicions ought to fall.
This hesitation doubtless springs from some moral infirmity, to whose
assistance the professor must come.
Fouche had in Paris three or four houses resorted to by people of the
highest distinction; the mistresses of these dwellings were devoted to
him. This devotion cost a great deal of money to the state. The
minister used to call these gatherings, of which nobody at the time
had any suspicion, his _mouse-traps_. More than one arrest was made at
the end of the ball at which the most brilliant people of Paris had
been made accomplices of this oratorian.
The act of offering some fragments of roasted nuts, in order to see
your wife put her white hand in the trap, is certainly exceedingly
delicate, for a woman is certain to be on her guard; nevertheless, we
reckon upon at least three kinds of mouse-traps: _The Irresistible_,
_The Fallacious_, and that which is _Touch and Go_.
_The Irresistible._
Suppose two husbands, we will call them A and B, wish to discover who
are the lovers of their wives. We will put the husband A at the centre
of a table loaded with the finest pyramids of fruit, of crystals, of
candies and of liqueurs, and the husband B shall be at whatever point
of this brilliant circle you may please to suppose. The champagne has
gone round, every eye is sparkling and every tongue is wagging.
HUSBAND A. (peeling a chestnut)--Well, as for me, I admire literary
people, but from a distance. I find them intolerable; in conversation
they are despotic; I do not know what displeases me more, their faults
or their good qualities. In short (he swallows his chestnut), people
of genius are like tonics--you like, but you must use them
temperately.
WIFE B. (who has listened attentively)--But, M. A., you are very
exacting (with an arch smile); it seems to me that dull people have as
many faults as people of talent, with this difference perhaps, that
the former have nothing to atone for them!
HUSBAND A. (irritably)--You will agree at least, madame, that they are
not very amiable to you.
WIFE B. (with vivacity)--Who told you so?
HUSBAND A. (smiling)--Don't they overwhelm you all the time with their
superiority? Vanity so dominates their souls that between you and them
the effort is reciprocal--
THE MISTRESS OF THE HOUSE. (aside to Wife A)--You well deserved it, my
dear. (Wife A shrugs her shoulders.)
HUSBAND A. (still continuing)--Then the habit they have of combining
ideas which reveal to them the mechanism of feeling! For them love is
purely physical and every one knows that they do not shine.
WIFE B. (biting her lips, interrupting him)--It seems to me, sir, that
we are the sole judges in this matter. I can well understand why men
of the world do not like men of letters! But it is easier to criticise
than to imitate them.
HUSBAND A. (disdainfully)--Oh, madame, men of the world can assail the
authors of the present time without being accused of envy. There is
many a gentleman of the drawing-room, who if he undertook to write--
WIFE B. (with warmth)--Unfortunately for you, sir, certain friends of
yours in the Chamber have written romances; have you been able to read
them?--But really, in these days, in order to attain the least
originality, you must undertake historic research, you must--
HUSBAND B. (making no answer to the lady next him and speaking aside)
--Oh! Oh! Can it be that it is M. de L-----, author of the _Dreams of
a Young Girl_, whom my wife is in love with?--That is singular; I
thought that it was Doctor M-----. But stay! (Aloud.) Do you know, my
dear, that you are right in what you say? (All laugh.) Really, I
should prefer to have always artists and men of letters in my
drawing-room--(aside) when we begin to receive!--rather than to see
there other professional men. In any case artists speak of things about
which every one is enthusiastic, for who is there who does not believe
in good taste? But judges, lawyers, and, above all, doctors--Heavens!
I confess that to hear them constantly speaking about lawsuits and
diseases, those two human ills--
WIFE A. (sitting next to Husband B, speaking at the same time)--What
is that you are saying, my friend? You are quite mistaken. In these
days nobody wishes to wear a professional manner; doctors, since you
have mentioned doctors, try to avoid speaking of professional matters.
They talk politics, discuss the fashions and the theatres, they tell
anecdotes, they write books better than professional authors do; there
is a vast difference between the doctors of to-day and those of
Moliere--
HUSBAND A. (aside)--Whew! Is it possible my wife is in love with Dr.
M-----? That would be odd. (Aloud.) That is quite possible, my dear,
but I would not give a sick dog in charge of a physician who writes.
WIFE A. (interrupting her husband)--I know people who have five or six
offices, yet the government has the greatest confidence in them;
anyway, it is odd that you should speak in this way, you who were one
of Dr. M-----'s great cases--
HUSBAND A. (aside)--There can be no doubt of it!
_The Fallacious._
A HUSBAND. (as he reaches home)--My dear, we are invited by Madame de
Fischtaminel to a concert which she is giving next Tuesday. I reckoned
on going there, as I wanted to speak with a young cousin of the
minister who was among the singers; but he is gone to Frouville to see
his aunt. What do you propose doing?
HIS WIFE.--These concerts tire me to death!--You have to sit nailed to
your chair whole hours without saying a word.--Besides, you know quite
well that we dine with my mother on that day, and it is impossible to
miss paying her a visit.
HER HUSBAND. (carelessly)--Ah! that is true.
_(Three days afterwards.)_
THE HUSBAND. (as he goes to bed)--What do you think, my darling?
To-morrow I will leave you at your mother's, for the count has
returned from Frouville and will be at Madame de Fischtaminel's
concert.
HIS WIFE. (vivaciously)--But why should you go alone? You know how I
adore music!
_The Touch and Go Mouse-Trap._
THE WIFE.--Why did you go away so early this evening?
THE HUSBAND. (mysteriously)--Ah! It is a sad business, and all the
more so because I don't know how I can settle it.
THE WIFE.--What is it all about, Adolph? You are a wretch if you do
not tell me what you are going to do!
THE HUSBAND.--My dear, that ass of a Prosper Magnan is fighting a duel
with M. de Fontanges, on account of an Opera singer.--But what is the
matter with you?
THE WIFE.--Nothing.--It is very warm in this room and I don't know
what ails me, for the whole day I have been suffering from sudden
flushing of the face.
THE HUSBAND. (aside)--She is in love with M. de Fontanges. (Aloud.)
Celestine! (He shouts out still louder.) Celestine! Come quick, madame
is ill!
You will understand that a clever husband will discover a thousand
ways of setting these three kinds of traps.