.

Nothing is more easily acquired than a little adroitness; do not throw
yourself at his head, and always have confidence in yourself.

Usually, a man marries when he thinks himself ruined; when he feels in
his waistcoat pocket--not a louis--he is then seasoned; he goes at once
before the registrar. But let me tell you, sisters, he is still rich.
He has another pocket of which he knows nothing, the fool! and which is
full of gold. It is for you to act so that he shall find it out and be
grateful to you for the happiness he has had in finding a fortune.

I will sum up, at once, as time is flying and I should not like you to
be late for dinner. For Heaven's sake, ladies, tear from the clutches
of the women, whose toilettes you do very wrong in imitating, your
husbands' affections. Are you not more refined, more sprightly, than
they? Do for him whom you love that which these women do for all the
world; do not content yourselves with being virtuous--be attractive,
perfume your hair, nurture illusion as a rare plant in a golden
vase. Cultivate a little folly when practicable; put away your
marriage-contract and look at it only once in ten years; love one
another as if you had not sworn to do so; forget that there are bonds,
contracts, pledges; banish from your mind the recollection of the Mayor
and his scarf. Sometimes when you are alone fancy that you are only
sweethearts; sister, is not that what you eagerly desire?

Ah! let candor and youth flourish. Let us love and laugh while spring
blossoms. Let us love our babies, the little dears, and kiss our wives.
Yes, that is moral and healthy; the world is not a shivering convent,
marriage is not a tomb. Shame on those who find in it only sadness,
boredom, and sleep.

My sisters, my sisters, strive to be real; that is the blessing I wish
you.

CHAPTER X. MADAME'S IMPRESSIONS

The marriage ceremony at the Town Hall has, no doubt, a tolerable
importance; but is it really possible for a well-bred person to regard
this importance seriously? I have been through it; I have undergone like
every one else this painful formality, and I can not look back on it
without feeling a kind of humiliation. On alighting from the carriage I
descried a muddy staircase; walls placarded with bills of every color,
and in front of one of them a man in a snuff-colored coat, bare-headed,
a pen behind his ear, and papers under his arm, who was rolling a
cigarette between his inky fingers. To