grace, despite her great creole eyes, and despite her plaintive and
beseeching looks, that seem to be ever saying: "Mon Dieu! will no one lead
me into temptation?"

You would doubtless think that the evident neglect in which the poor wife
lives ought to be, for her husband, a motive of security. Not at all! His
ingenious mania manages to discover in that fact a fresh motive of
perplexity.

"My friend," he was saying yesterday to Monsieur de Malouet, "you know
that I am no more jealous than any one else; but without being Orosmane, I
do not pretend to be George Dandin. Well! one thing troubles me, my
friend; have you noticed that apparently no one pays any attention to my
wife?"

"Parbleu! if that's what troubles you--"

"Of course it is; you must admit that it is not natural. My wife is
pretty; why don't they pay attention to her as well as to other ladies?
There is something suspicious there!"

Fortunately, and to the great advantage of the social question, all the
young women who reside in turn at the chateau are not guarded by dragons
of that caliber. A few even, and among them two or three Parisians out for
a holiday, display a freedom of manner, a love of pleasure, and an
exaggerated elegance that certainly pass the bounds of discretion. You are
aware that I have not the highest opinion of that sort of behavior, which
does not answer my idea of the duties of a woman, and even of a woman of
the world; nevertheless, I take side without hesitation with these giddy
ones; and their conduct even appears to me the very ideal of truth and