else she notices men, older or younger as the case may be, dressed
with more or less taste, whereas she formerly saw no one whatever,
though the sidewalk was black with hats and traveled by more boots than
slippers;

Or, when you come home, she says, "It's no one but my husband:" instead
of saying "Ah! 'tis Adolphe!" as she used to say with a gesture, a look,
an accent which caused her admirers to think, "Well, here's a happy
woman at last!" This last exclamation of a woman is suitable for two
eras,--first, while she is sincere; second, while she is hypocritical,
with her "Ah! 'tis Adolphe!" When she exclaims, "It's only my husband,"
she no longer deigns to play a part.

Or, if you come home somewhat late--at eleven, or at midnight--you find
her--snoring! Odious symptom!

Or else she puts on her stockings in your presence. Among English
couples, this never happens but once in a lady's married life; the next
day she leaves for the Continent with some captain or other, and no
longer thinks of putting on her stockings at all.

Or else--but let us stop here.

This is intended for the use of mariners and husbands who are
weatherwise.

THE MATRIMONIAL GADFLY.

Very well! In this degree of longitude, not far from a tropical sign
upon the name of which good taste forbids us to make a jest at once
coarse and unworthy of this thoughtful work, a horrible little annoyance
appears, ingeniously called the Matrimonial Gadfly, the most provoking
of all gnats, mosquitoes, blood-suckers, fleas and scorpions, for no
net was ever yet invented that could keep it off. The gadfly does not
immediately sting you; it begins by buzzing in your ears, and _you do
not at first know what it is_.

Thus, apropos of nothing, in the most natural way in the world, Caroline
says: "Madame Deschars had a lovely dress on, yesterday."

"She is a woman of taste," returns Adolphe, though he is far from
thinking so.

"Her husband gave it to her," resumes Caroline, with a shrug of her
shoulders.

"Ah!"

"Yes, a four hundred franc dress! It's the very finest quality of
velvet."

"Four hundred francs!" cries Adolphe, striking the attitude of the
apostle Thomas.

"But then there are two extra breadths and enough for a high waist!"

"Monsieur Deschars does things on a grand scale," replies Adolphe,
taking refuge in a jest.

"All men don't pay such attentions to their wives," says Caroline,
curtly.

"What attentions?"

"Why, Adolphe, th