D'Arthez was an
absolutist; the princess could not be ignorant of the opinions of a
man who sat in the Chamber among the fifteen or twenty persons who
represented the legitimist party; she found means to tell him how she
had fooled de Marsay to the top of his bent, then, by an easy transition
to the royal family and to "Madame," and the devotion of the Prince
de Cadignan to their service, she drew d'Arthez's attention to the
prince:--

"There is this to be said for him: he loved his masters, and was
faithful to them. His public character consoles me for the sufferings
his private life has inflicted upon me--Have you never remarked," she
went on, cleverly leaving the prince aside, "you who observe so much,
that men have two natures: one of their homes, their wives, their
private lives,--this is their true self; here no mask, no dissimulation;
they do not give themselves the trouble to disguise a feeling; they are
what they ARE, and it is often horrible! The other man is for others,
for the world, for salons; the court, the sovereign, the public often
see them grand, and noble, and generous, embroidered with virtues,
adorned with fine language, full of admirable qualities. What a horrible
jest it is!--and the world is surprised, sometimes, at the caustic smile
of certain women, at their air of superiority to their husbands, and
their indifference--"

She let her hand fall along the arm of her chair, without ending her
sentence, but the gesture admirably completed the speech. She saw
d'Arthez watching her flexible figure, gracefully bending in the depths
of her easy-chair, noting the folds of her gown, and the pretty little
ruffle which sported on her breast,--one of those audacities of the
toilet that are suited only to slender waists,--and she resumed the
thread of her thoughts as if she were speaking to herself:--

"But I will say no more. You writers have ended by making ridiculous
all women who think they are misunderstood, or ill-mated, and who try to
make themselves dramatically interesting,--attempts which seem to me, I
must say, intolerably vulgar. There are but two things for women in that
plight to do,--yield, and all is over; resist, and amuse themselves; in
either case they should keep silence. It is true that I neither yielded
wholly, nor resisted wholly; but, perhaps, that was only the more reason
why I should be silent. What folly for women to complain! If they
have not proved the stronger, they have fa