ir backbone, and all the forces of the
soul are scattered,--a gulf in which I shall no longer be the
being Nature meant me to be!

"This is what my bitter complainings mean. But do not let them
hinder you from sending me those flowers. Your friendship is so
soothing and so full of loving kindness that it has for the last
few months almost reconciled me to myself. Yes, it makes me happy
to have you cast a glance upon my soul, at once so barren and so
full of bloom; and I am thankful for every gentle word you say to
one who rides the phantom steed of dreams, and returns worn-out."

At the end of the third year of his married life, Graslin, observing
that his wife no longer used her horses, and finding a good market for
them, sold them. He also sold the carriages, sent away the coachman, let
the bishop have his man-cook, and contented himself with a woman. He no
longer gave the monthly sum to his wife, telling her that he would pay
all bills. He thought himself the most fortunate of husbands in meeting
no opposition whatever to these proceedings from the woman who had
brought him a million of francs as a dowry. Madame Graslin, brought up
from childhood without ever seeing money, or being made to feel that it
was an indispensable element in life, deserved no praise whatever
for this apparent generosity. Graslin even noticed in a corner of the
secretary all the sums he had ever given her, less the money she had
bestowed in charity or spent upon her dress, the cost of which was much
lessened by the profusion of her wedding trousseau.

Graslin boasted of Veronique to all Limoges as being a model wife.
He next regretted the money spent on the house, and he ordered the
furniture to be all packed away or covered up. His wife's bedroom,
dressing-room, and boudoir were alone spared from these protective
measures; which protect nothing, for furniture is injured just as much
by being covered up as by being left uncovered. Graslin himself lived
almost entirely on the ground-floor of the house, where he had his
office, and resumed his old business habits with avidity. He thought
himself an excellent husband because he went upstairs to breakfast and
dined with his wife; but his unpunctuality was so great that it was
not more than ten times a month that he began a meal with he; he had
exacted, out of courtesy, that she should never wait for him. Veronique
did, however, always remain in the room while her husband took