Volume 11 — XXXII RETURN TO PARIS

The first days of married life are called the honeymoon. But the only honey I enjoyed was a grand row with Madame de Pontchartrain on the day after my wedding, because she perceived by her heavy eyes, her gait, in fact, by a thousand symptoms which never escape a dowager’s glance, that I had already plucked the rose of hymen. She went so far as to reproach me, to accuse me of immodesty, brutality, a purely animal passion, and declared that I wanted to kill her niece. It would have required the patience of a cherub to listen unmoved to such nonsense; and as I am no angel, I sent our aunt about her business; I forbade her to meddle in my affairs thereafter, and especially enjoined upon her to refrain from offering advice to my wife. Madame de Pontchartrain shrieked and stormed and raved; I withdrew to my apartment; and there we were at swords’ point!

Old women are great talkers, and the dear aunt was spiteful and vindictive in addition. Instead of trying to forget that scene, she thought only of revenging herself for what she called my base conduct. On the next day, the whole town knew that I was a hot-tempered, ungentlemanly libertine, and that I had begun already to make my wife very unhappy.

However, my sister, who knew me and loved me, made haste to contradict all the rumors that the old aunt put in circulation to my discredit; she fell out with Madame de Pontchartrain, because she did not share her way of looking at things. In the town, some believed the aunt, others my sister; opinions were divided; it would almost have split the community into two hostile camps, except that they were generally agreed as to the main point, that is, the pleasure of making unkind remarks and the love of scandal.

I was very little disturbed by what the people of Melun thought and said of me, but I was deeply interested in my wife, and I was desirous that she should not agree with her aunt.

Pélagie found herself in an embarrassing position: her aunt told her not to listen to me, and I told her not to listen to her aunt, who did all that she could to induce her to come often to her apartments, while I did my best to prevent her going there. Madame de Pontchartrain told Pélagie that she ought to command, to force me to obey her—in a word, to be the mistress; while I tried to make her understand that when a woman can do nothing but play parlor games, dance, embroider, and sing ballads, she ought to call in her husband to assist her in managing her household.

All this frequently threw my wife into a state of painful uncertainty. I had been her husband only a few days, and her aunt had been her mentor from infancy. She was afraid of her, and I should have been very sorry to arouse such a feeling with respect to myself. The result was that she obeyed her aunt rather than me; and that had already brought about several of those little discussions which I desired to avoid. If Pélagie had had any wit or judgment, she would have felt that her aunt was wrong. But, alas! she had nothing of the sort; and dullards are much harder to lead than bright people. I hoped that she would acquire those qualities, and that, having her eyes opened in regard to a certain matter, she would become less stupid with regard to others; but I was beginning to lose that hope.

There was one point, however, upon which we were in accord: that was our right to sleep together. As to that, Pélagie was entirely of my opinion; she no longer dreamed of having a separate bed, and was never tempted to lock her door. I would have bet that it would be so; these little innocents!—when they are once started, nothing will stop them!

I had no desire to remain at Melun; but before taking my wife to Paris, it was necessary that I should have lodgings prepared for her reception. I could not take her to my little bachelor apartment; it was not suitable for us, nor did I wish her to know anything about it.

To find suitable lodgings, have them furnished and put in order, and engage servants, would detain me in Paris at least a week; and if I should leave my wife in her aunt’s power for a week, God only knew in what frame of mind I should find her when I returned! An hour passed with Madame de Pontchartrain always caused a quarrel between Pélagie and me. When she left her aunt, who had persuaded her that she ought not to listen to me, she made it her business to do just the opposite of what I told her, to tease me and make me angry; it was extremely difficult for me to bring her back to other ideas and to make her realize her errors. If she should pass a week without seeing me, it would be impossible for us to live together.

What was to be done? I did not propose to live in the province any longer; I was beginning to have my fill of it, and I felt that if I were obliged to live there I should die.

My sister saw my plight; and despite her desire to have me settle down in her vicinity, as she saw that I did not enjoy the pleasures of wedlock as I ought at Melun, she offered to send Déneterre to Paris, to prepare an apartment for me. I accepted her offer gratefully; and my brother-in-law set off, with full instructions from me.

I prayed that he might return very soon. The time seemed terribly long to me. I was obliged to remain constantly with my wife; and to be always in the company of a person who has nothing to say, who often does not understand what you say to her—what torture!

At first I had hopes; the nights were some slight recompense; but hope soon vanished, and even the nights sometimes seemed wearisome to me. Ah! then I realized what a trivial thing mere beauty is! We become accustomed to everything, to an ugly face as well as a lovely one; but when, with the lovely face, we find no sustenance for the mind or heart; when a little mouth is mute or says only foolish things; when two great eyes have no expression; when the smile is always the same; when the voice expresses no feeling—then there is nothing to do but yawn and fall asleep beside that little chef-d’œuvre of nature.

But when we listen to some attractive person, who has the power to describe what she feels, whose eyes and voice are equally eloquent, who charms us by her thoughts and attracts us by her conversation, do we pay any heed to her ugliness? No, we forget it; more than that, it actually disappears, and the face that repelled us at first becomes agreeable to us.

Doubtless beauty combined with wit aids materially in seducing us; but if we can have only one of the two, I am sure that in marrying we should not set great store by externals. That one should take a pretty mistress, without bothering one’s head as to her mental powers, is perfectly natural; one can leave her as soon as she becomes a bore. But a wife! a companion for the rest of one’s life! what a difference! I know there are many husbands who spend less time with their wives than with their mistresses; but I am not speaking for their benefit. When I married, I intended to have a happy home, not to leave my wife and run after other women; and yet, as you will see, that was what I was obliged to do.

Déneterre had been away twelve days, and still he did not return. Madame de Pontchartrain, who knew that I proposed to take my wife to Paris, was more savage than ever; she tried every day to play some fresh trick on me; she watched for her niece as the cat watches for the mouse; and whenever she saw her, she inflamed her against me. All my time was occupied in defeating her little plots; we played Guerre ouverte in the house, and that afforded me a little distraction.

By dint of slandering me, the old lady had come to believe a portion of her slanders; and if by chance I went to some reception, which very rarely happened, I was conscious that a confused, incessant muttering and whispering began as soon as I appeared. Some looked at me, others turned their heads away; the old dowagers and the mothers, who were hot partisans of Madame de Pontchartrain, lost no time in moving away from me; there were some who even made a gesture of alarm at my approach, as if I were plague-stricken.

I laughed at all this with the sensible, reasonable people; but they were not in the majority; besides, it is much easier to speak unkindly than kindly of a person; it would seem that faults are apparent to every eye, and that good qualities keep out of sight.

At last Déneterre returned. My apartment was waiting for me on Boulevard Montmartre; I could occupy it at once; everything was ready for my wife and myself, and our servants were engaged.

I did not propose to delay. I urged Pélagie to hurry with her trunks and boxes and bundles. She seconded me warmly enough; I believe that at heart she was not sorry to escape from her aunt’s authority, and to see new places. And such places! Paris! the paradise of womankind! and the hell of—— Great heaven! I forgot that I was one myself!

It was all over; I had bid my sister, her husband, and my nephews adieu. Pélagie went to take leave of her aunt, for I would not have her fail in courtesy toward her. Madame de Pontchartrain refused to allow her niece to go; I was obliged to go after her. She declared that I had no right to take her away, and tried to detain her by force. I was compelled to abduct my wife; the old aunt pursued us to the front door and threatened to come to Paris after us. But I knew that she would not; people do not play boston in the morning there.

We started; and in my delight I kissed my wife! It was just six weeks since my wedding, and five months since I had left Paris.

At last I saw it again, that splendid city, and I exclaimed:

I prefer thy uproar to the gossip and scandal and petty malignity of the provinces; thy mud to the grass that grows in the untrodden streets of a small provincial town; and thy smoke to those solid pleasures—which I have failed to find elsewhere.