indicate the more evident of the
manifestations to neophytes in the sublime science of marriage.

MEDITATION VIII. OF THE FIRST SYMPTOMS.

When your wife reaches that crisis in which we have left her, you
yourself are wrapped in a pleasant and unsuspicious security. You
have so often seen the sun that you begin to think it is shining over
everybody. You therefore give no longer that attention to the least
action of your wife, which was impelled by your first outburst of
passion.

This indolence prevents many husbands from perceiving the symptoms
which, in their wives, herald the first storm; and this disposition
of mind has resulted in the minotaurization of more husbands than have
either opportunity, carriages, sofas and apartments in town.

The feeling of indifference in the presence of danger is to some
degree justified by the apparent tranquillity which surrounds you.
The conspiracy which is formed against you by our million of hungry
celibates seems to be unanimous in its advance. Although all are enemies
of each other and know each other well, a sort of instinct forces them
into co-operation.

Two persons are married. The myrmidons of the Minotaur, young and old,
have usually the politeness to leave the bride and bridegroom entirely
to themselves at first. They look upon the husband as an artisan, whose
business it is to trim, polish, cut into facets and mount the diamond,
which is to pass from hand to hand in order to be admired all around.
Moreover, the aspect of a young married couple much taken with each
other always rejoices the heart of those among the celibates who are
known as _roues_; they take good care not to disturb the excitement by
which society is to be profited; they also know that heavy showers to
not last long. They therefore keep quiet; they watch, and wait, with
incredible vigilance, for the moment when bride and groom begin to weary
of the seventh heaven.

The tact with which celibates discover the moment when the breeze begins
to rise in a new home can only be compared to the indifference of those
husbands for whom the Red-moon rises. There is, even in intrigue, a
moment of ripeness which must be waited for. The great man is he who
anticipates the outcome of certain circumstances. Men of fifty-two, whom
we have represented as being so dangerous, know very well, for example,
that any man who offers himself as lover to a woman and is haughtily
rejected, will be received with open