light-heartedness or levity, others were ready to discover an
undercurrent of diplomatic intention beneath his inanity and
silliness. "Oh! he only says exactly as much as he means to say,"
thought these excellent people.

So d'Aiglemont's defects and good qualities stood him alike in good
stead. He did nothing to forfeit a high military reputation gained by
his dashing courage, for he had never been a commander-in-chief. Great
thoughts surely were engraven upon that manly aristocratic
countenance, which imposed upon every one but his own wife. And when
everybody else believed in the Marquis d'Aiglemont's imaginary
talents, the Marquis persuaded himself before he had done that he was
one of the most remarkable men at Court, where, thanks to his purely
external qualifications, he was in favor and taken at his own
valuation.

At home, however, M. d'Aiglemont was modest. Instinctively he felt
that his wife, young though she was, was his superior; and out of this
involuntary respect there grew an occult power which the Marquise was
obliged to wield in spite of all her efforts to shake off the burden.
She became her husband's adviser, the director of his actions and his
fortunes. It was an unnatural position; she felt it as something of a
humiliation, a source of pain to be buried in the depths of her heart.
From the first her delicately feminine instinct told her that it is a
far better thing to obey a man of talent than to lead a fool; and that
a young wife compelled to act and think like a man is neither man nor
woman, but a being who lays aside all the charms of her womanhood
along with its misfortunes, yet acquires none of the privileges which
our laws give to the stronger sex. Beneath the surface her life was a
bitter mockery. Was she not compelled to protect her protector, to