ing home from a ball, he tears out the pins,
tangles the strings, and laughs like a madman, trying to see whether you
are ticklish, let him. Do not cry "Murder!" if his moustache pricks you,
but think that it is all because at heart he loves you well. He worships
your virtues; is it surprising hence that he should cherish their outward
coverings? No doubt you have a noble soul; but your body is not therefore
to be despised; and when one loves fervently, one loves everything at the
same time. Do not be alarmed if in the evening, when the fire is burning
brightly and you are chatting gayly beside it, he should take off one of
your shoes and stockings, put your foot on his lap, and in a moment of
forgetfulness carry irreverence so far as to kiss it; if he likes to pass
your large tortoise-shell comb through your hair, if he selects your
perfumes, arranges your plaits, and suddenly exclaims, striking his
forehead: "Sit down there, darling; I have an idea how to arrange a new
coiffure."

If he turns up his sleeves and by chance tangles your curls, where really
is the harm? Thank Heaven if in the marriage which you have hit upon you
find a laughing, joyous side; if in your husband you find the loved
reader of the pretty romance you have in your pocket; if, while wearing
cashmere shawls and costly jewels in your ears, you find the joys of a
real intimacy--that is delicious! In short, reckon yourself happy if in
your husband you find a lover.

But before accepting my theories, ladies, although in your heart and
conscience you find them perfect, you will have several little prejudices
to overcome; above all, you will have to struggle against your education,
which is deplorable, as I have already said, but that is no great matter.
Remember that under the pretext of education you have been stuffed, my
dear sisters. You have been varnished too soon, like those pictures
painted for sales, which crack all over six months after purchase. Your
disposition has not been properly directed; you are not cultivated; you
have been stifled, pruned; you have been shaped like those yew-trees at
Versailles which represent goblets and birds. Still, you are women at the
bottom, though you no longer look it.

You are handed over to us men swaddled, distorted, stuffed with
prejudices and principles, heavy as paving-stones; all of which are the
more difficult to dislodge since you look upon them as sacred; you are
started on the matrimonial journey