iments of dress, the ideas excited
by absence, the stimulus of an imaginary rivalry.

In short, at this period, you walk very comfortably with your wife on
your arm, without pressing hers against your heart with the solicitous
and watchful cohesion of a miser grasping his treasure. You gaze
carelessly round upon the curiosities in the street, leading your wife
in a loose and distracted way, as if you were towing a Norman scow. Come
now, be frank! If, on passing your wife, an admirer were gently to press
her, accidentally or purposely, would you have the slightest desire to
discover his motives? Besides, you say, no woman would seek to
bring about a quarrel for such a trifle. Confess this, too, that the
expression "such a trifle" is exceedingly flattering to both of you.

You are in this position, but you have as yet proceeded no farther.
Still, you have a horrible thought which you bury in the depths of your
heart and conscience: Caroline has not come up to your expectations.
Caroline has imperfections, which, during the high tides of the
honey-moon, were concealed under the water, but which the ebb of the
gall-moon has laid bare. You have several times run against these
breakers, your hopes have been often shipwrecked upon them, more than
once your desires--those of a young marrying man--(where, alas, is that
time!) have seen their richly laden gondolas go to pieces there: the
flower of the cargo went to the bottom, the ballast of the marriage
remained. In short, to make use of a colloquial expression, as you talk
over your marriage with yourself you say, as you look at Caroline, "_She
is not what I took her to be!_"

Some evening, at a ball, in society, at a friend's house, no matter
where, you meet a sublime young woman, beautiful, intellectual and kind:
with a soul, oh! a soul of celestial purity, and of miraculous beauty!
Yes, there is that unchangeable oval cut of face, those features which
time will never impair, that graceful and thoughtful brow. The unknown
is rich, well-educated, of noble birth: she will always be what she
should be, she knows when to shine, when to remain in the background:
she appears in all her glory and power, the being you have dreamed
of, your wife that should have been, she whom you feel you could love
forever. She would always have flattered your little vanities, she would
understand and admirably serve your interests. She is tender and
gay, too, this young lady who reawakens all you