my best not to guess, then," said the good-natured
Clotilde, with a laugh.

"And I assure you, for my part, that I am discretion itself," said M. de
Nailles.

So saying, he drew his wife's arm within his own, and the three passed
gayly together into the dining-room.

CHAPTER II. A CLEVER STEPMOTHER

No man took more pleasure than M. de Nailles in finding himself in his
own home--partly, perhaps, because circumstances compelled him to
be very little there. The post of deputy in the French Chamber is
no sinecure. He was not often an orator from the tribune, but he was
absorbed by work in the committees--"Harnessed to a lot of bothering
reports," as Jacqueline used to say to him. He had barely any time to
give to those important duties of his position, by which, as is well
known, members of the Corps Legislatif are shamelessly harassed by
constituents, who, on pretence that they have helped to place the
interests of their district in your hands, feel authorized to worry you
with personal matters, such as the choice of agricultural machines, or a
place to be found for a wet-nurse.

Besides his public duties, M. de Nailles was occupied by financial
speculations--operations that were no doubt made necessary by the style
of living commented on by his cousin, Madame de Monredon, who was as
stingy as she was bitter of tongue. The elegance that she found fault
with was, however, very far from being great when compared with the
luxury of the present day. Of course, the Baronne had to have her
horses, her opera-box, her fashionable frocks. To supply these very
moderate needs, which, however, she never insisted upon, being, so far
as words went, most simple in her tastes, M. de Nailles, who had not the
temperament which makes men find pleasure in hard work, became more
and more fatigued. His days were passed in the Chamber, but he never
neglected his interest on the Bourse; in the evening he accompanied his
young wife into society, which, she always declared, she did not care
for, but which had claims upon her nevertheless. It was therefore not
surprising that M. de Nailles's face showed traces of the habitual
fatigue that was fast aging him; his tall, thin form had acquired a
slight stoop; though only fifty he was evidently in his declining years.
He had once been a man of pleasure, it was said, before he entered
politics. He had married his first wife late in life. She was a prudent
woman who feared to expose him to t