h a man and with a woman is fifteen years. This period is equal to
three-fourths of the time during which the infidelities of the woman
can bring unhappiness to her husband. Nevertheless, the remainder in our
subtraction from the sum of men only differs by a sixth or so from that
which results in our subtraction from the sum of women.

Great is the modest caution of our estimates. As to our arguments, they
are founded on evidence so widely known, that we have only expounded
them for the sake of being exact and in order to anticipate all
criticism.

It has, therefore, been proved to the mind of every philosopher, however
little disposed he may be to forming numerical estimates, that there
exists in France a floating mass of three million men between seventeen
and fifty-two, all perfectly alive, well provided with teeth, quite
resolved on biting, in fact, biting and asking nothing better than the
opportunity of walking strong and upright along the way to Paradise.

The above observations entitle us to separate from this mass of men a
million husbands. Suppose for an instant that these, being satisfied
and always happy, like our model husband, confine themselves to conjugal
love.

Our remainder of two millions do not require five sous to make love.

It is quite sufficient for a man to have a fine foot and a clear eye in
order to dismantle the portrait of a husband.

It is not necessary that he should have a handsome face nor even a good
figure;

Provided that a man appears to be intellectual and has a distinguished
expression of face, women never look where he comes from but where he is
going to;

The charms of youth are the unique equipage of love;

A coat made by Brisson, a pair of gloves bought from Boivin, elegant
shoes, for whose payment the dealer trembles, a well-tied cravat are
sufficient to make a man king of the drawing-room;

And soldiers--although the passion for gold lace and aiguillettes has
died away--do not soldiers form of themselves a redoubtable legion of
celibates? Not to mention Eginhard--for he was a private secretary--has
not a newspaper recently recorded how a German princess bequeathed her
fortune to a simple lieutenant of cuirassiers in the imperial guard?

But the notary of the village, who in the wilds of Gascony does not draw
more than thirty-six deeds a year, sends his son to study law at Paris;
the hatter wishes his son to be a notary, the lawyer destines his to be
a judge, the j