method of action is."

Caroline resumes her post of observation. At about three she looks
through the flowers which form as it were a bower at the window, and
exclaims, "Two perfect doves!"

For the Saturday in question, Caroline invites Monsieur and Madame
Deschars, the worthy Monsieur Fischtaminel, in short, the most virtuous
couples of her society. She has brought out all her resources: she has
ordered the most sumptuous dinner, she has taken the silver out of the
chest: she means to do all honor to the model of wives.

"My dear, you will see to-night," she says to Madame Deschars, at the
moment when all the women are looking at each other in silence, "the
most admirable young couple in the world, our opposite neighbors: a
young man of fair complexion, so graceful and with _such_ manners! His
head is like Lord Byron's, and he's a real Don Juan, only faithful: he's
discovered the secret of making love eternal: I shall perhaps obtain
a second crop of it from her example. Adolphe, when he sees them, will
blush at his conduct, and--"

The servant announces: "Monsieur and Madame Foullepointe."

Madame Foullepointe, a pretty brunette, a genuine Parisian, slight
and erect in form, the brilliant light of her eye quenched by her long
lashes, charmingly dressed, sits down upon the sofa. Caroline bows to
a fat gentleman with thin gray hair, who follows this Paris Andalusian,
and who exhibits a face and paunch fit for Silenus, a butter-colored
pate, a deceitful, libertine smile upon his big, heavy lips,--in short,
a philosopher! Caroline looks upon this individual with astonishment.

"Monsieur Foullepointe, my dear," says Adolphe, presenting the worthy
quinquagenarian.

"I am delighted, madame," says Caroline, good-naturedly, "that you have
brought your father-in-law [profound sensation], but we shall soon see
your husband, I trust--"

"Madame--!"

Everybody listens and looks. Adolphe becomes the object of every one's
attention; he is literally dumb with amazement: if he could, he would
whisk Caroline off through a trap, as at the theatre.

"This is Monsieur Foullepointe, my husband," says Madame Foullepointe.

Caroline turns scarlet as she sees her ridiculous blunder, and Adolphe
scathes her with a look of thirty-six candlepower.

"You said he was young and fair," whispers Madame Deschars. Madame
Foullepointe,--knowing lady that she is,--boldly stares at the ceiling.

A month after, Madame Foullepointe and Caro