in the midst of changes of fashion
which succeed so rapidly in rendering antiquated the creations of
former decorators, for it is essential that your wife be unable to
change, at pleasure, this theatre of married happiness. The base
should be plain and massive and admit of no treacherous interval
between it and the floor; and bear in mind always that the Donna Julia
of Byron hid Don Juan under her pillow. But it would be ridiculous to
treat lightly so delicate a subject.

LXII.
The bed is the whole of marriage.

Moreover, we must not delay to direct your attention to this wonderful
creation of human genius, an invention which claims our recognition
much more than ships, firearms, matches, wheeled carriages, steam
engines of all kinds, more than even barrels and bottles. In the first
place, a little thought will convince us that this is all true of the
bed; but when we begin to think that it is our second father, that the
most tranquil and most agitated half of our existence is spent under
its protecting canopy, words fail in eulogizing it. (See Meditation
XVII, entitled "Theory of the Bed.")

When the war, of which we shall speak in our third part, breaks out
between you and madame, you will always have plenty of ingenious
excuses for rummaging in the drawers and escritoires; for if your wife
is trying to hide from you some statue of her adoration, it is your
interest to know where she has hidden it. A gyneceum, constructed on
the method described, will enable you to calculate at a glance,
whether there is present in it two pounds of silk more than usual.
Should a single closet be constructed there, you are a lost man! Above
all, accustom your wife, during the honeymoon, to bestow especial
pains in the neatness of her apartment; let nothing put off that. If
you do not habituate her to be minutely particular in this respect, if
the same objects are not always found in the same places, she will
allow things to become so untidy, that you will not be able to see
that there are two pounds of silk more or less in her room.

The curtains of your apartments ought to be of a stuff which is quite
transparent, and you ought to contract the habit in the evenings of
walking outside so that madame may see you come right up to the window
just out of absent-mindedness. In a word, with regard to windows, let
the sills be so narrow that even a sack of flour cannot be set up on
th