The Seven Cardinal Sins: Envy and Indolence Part 63

"A gallant speech after six months of married life, truly."

"But you exasperate me beyond endurance, madame. I am the most unhappy man alive. I can stand it no longer. I must say what I have to say."

"Do, by all means. But pray don't make such a fuss about it. I abhor a noise."

"Very well, then, madame. I tell you very plainly, though very quietly, that it is a woman's duty to attend to the affairs of her household, and you do not pay the slightest attention to yours. If it were not for me, I don't know what would become of the house."

"That is the steward's business, it seems to me. But you have energy enough for two, and you've got to expend it upon something."

"I tell you, again, madame, very quietly, understand, that I antic.i.p.ated a very different and very delightful life. I had deferred exploring several of the most interesting countries until after my marriage, saying to myself, 'Instead of exploring them alone, I shall then have a charming and congenial companion; fatigue, adventures, even dangers,--we will share them all courageously together.'"

"Great Heavens!" murmured Florence, lifting her beautiful eyes heavenward, "he admits such an atrocious thing as that."

"'What happiness it will be,' I said to myself," continued M. de Luceval, quite carried away by the bitterness of his regret,--"'what happiness it will be to visit such extremely interesting countries as Egypt--'"

"Egypt!"

"Turkey--"

"_Mon Dieu!_ Turkey!"

"And if you had been the woman I so fondly dreamed, we might even have pushed on to the Caucasus."

"The Caucasus!" exclaimed Florence, straightening herself up in her chair this time. "Is it possible you thought of such a thing as visiting the Caucasus?" she added, clasping her pretty hands in undisguised horror.

"But, madame, Lady Stanhope, and the d.u.c.h.esse de Plaisance, and many others, have made similar journeys."

"The Caucasus! So that was what you reserved for me! That was what you were infamously plotting, when I so trustingly gave you my hand in the Chapel of the a.s.sumption. Ah, I understand the cruel selfishness of your character now."

And sinking back in her armchair again, she repeated, in the same horrified tones:

"The Caucasus! Think of it, the Caucasus!"

"Oh, I know very well now that you are one of those women who are incapable of making the slightest concession to their husband's wishes,"

retorted M. de Luceval, bitterly.

"The slightest concession! Why don't you propose a voyage of discovery to Timbuctoo, or the North Pole, and be done with it?"

"Madame Biard, the brave-hearted wife of an eminent painter, had the courage to accompany her husband to the polar seas without a murmur; yes, even gladly, madame," answered M. de Luceval,--"to polar seas, do you hear, madame?"

"I hear only too well, monsieur. You are either the most wicked or the most insane of men!"

"Really, madame--"

"And what and who, in Heaven's name, is keeping you, monsieur? If you have a pa.s.sion--a mania, I call it--for travelling, if repose is so irksome to you, why don't you travel? Go to the Caucasus! Go to the North Pole, if you like, start at once, make haste about it. We shall both be the gainers by it. I shall no longer distress you by the sight of my atrocious indolence, and you will cease to irritate my nerves by the restlessness that prevents you from remaining for a moment in one place or allowing others to do so. Twenty times a day you rush into my room merely for the sake of coming and going; or, even worse, marvellous as it may appear, you come and wake me at five o'clock in the morning to propose a horseback ride, or to take me to the natatorium. You have even gone so far as to insist upon my practising gymnastics a little.

Gymnastics! Who but you would ever think of such a thing? So, monsieur, I repeat that your absurd ideas, your constant coming and going, the sort of perpetual motion you keep up, the spirit of unrest that seems to possess you, causes me quite as much annoyance as my indolence can possibly cause you. Consequently you need not suppose for one moment that you alone have cause to complain, and as we have both made up our minds to say our say to each other, I declare in my turn, monsieur, that such a life as this is intolerable to me, and, unless there is a change for the better, I do not intend to put up with it much longer."

"What do you mean by that, madame?"

"I mean that it would be very foolish for us to go on interfering with and annoying each other. You have your tastes, I have mine; you have your fortune, I have mine; then let us live as seems good to us, and, for Heaven's sake, let us, above all, live in quiet."

"I admire your a.s.surance, really, madame. It is something marvellous! Do you suppose I married to lead a life that was not to my liking?"

"Oh, _mon Dieu_! live as you please, monsieur, but let me live as I please, as well."

"It pleases me, madame, to live with you. It was for that I married you, I think; so it is for you to accept my sort of life. Yes, madame, I have the right to expect it, ay, to demand it; and you may rest a.s.sured that I shall have the energy to enforce my demands."

"What you say is perfectly ridiculous, M. de Luceval."

"Ah, you think so, do you?" retorted the husband, with a sardonic smile.

"Yes, ridiculous in the highest degree."

"Then the Civil Code is ridiculous in the highest degree, I suppose?"

"Very possibly, monsieur, as you bring it into this discussion. I don't know enough about it to judge, however."

"Then understand, once for all, madame, that the Civil Code expressly states that a woman is expected, obliged, compelled to follow her husband."

"To the Caucasus?"

"Wherever he may see fit to take her."

"I am in no mood for jesting, monsieur. But for that, your interpretation of the Civil Code would amuse me immensely."

"I, too, am in earnest, madame,--very much in earnest."

"That is what makes the whole affair so irresistibly comical."

"Take care, madame, do not drive me to desperation."

"Oh, threaten me with the North Pole at once, and let that be the end of it."

"I have no intention of resorting to threats, madame. I merely wish to impress upon your mind the fact that the time for weakness is past, so when it suits me to start on a journey,--and that moment is, perhaps, nearer than you think,--I shall notify you one week in advance, so you may have time to make all needful preparations; then, willing or not, when the post-horses come, you will enter the carriage."

"If not, the magistrate, and a 'In the name of the law, follow your husband,' I suppose, monsieur."

"Yes, madame. You may sneer as much as you please, but you will follow me at the law's bidding, for you must realise that some guaranties in relation to such a serious and sacred thing as marriage must and do exist. After all, a man's happiness and peace of mind must not be at the mercy of the slightest caprice of a spoiled child."

"Caprice! that is ridiculous. I have a horror of travelling, the slightest fatigue is intolerable to me, and because you take it into your head to rival the Wandering Jew, I am to be compelled to follow you?"

"Yes, madame; and I will prove to you that--"

"M. de Luceval, I hate controversy. It is entirely too much trouble. So, to put an end to this discussion, I will merely say that I shall not accompany you on a single one of your journeys, even if it be merely from here to St. Cloud. You shall see if I do not keep my word."

And Florence threw herself back in her armchair again, crossed her little feet, and closed her eyes, as if completely exhausted.

"Madame," exclaimed M. de Luceval, "this is not to be borne. I will not permit this disdainful silence!"