This scene, which is enacted in a thousand ways and which may originate in a thousand different incidents, has a sequel in that other situation which, while it is less pleasant, is far more terrible.

One evening when I was talking about these serious matters with the late Comte de Noce, of whom I have already had occasion to speak, a tall white-haired old man, his intimate friend, whose name I will not give, because he is still alive, looked at us with a somewhat melancholy air.  We guessed that he was about to relate some tale of scandal, and we accordingly watched him, somewhat as the stenographer of the Moniteur might watch, as he mounted the tribune, a minister whose speech had already been written out for the reporter.  The story-teller on this occasion was an old marquis, whose fortune, together with his wife and children, had perished in the disasters of the Revolution.  The marchioness had been one of the most inconsistent women of the past generation; the marquis accordingly was not wanting in observations on feminine human nature.  Having reached an age in which he saw nothing before him but the gulf of the grave, he spoke about himself as if the subject of his talk were Mark Antony or Cleopatra.

“My young friend”—­he did me the honor to address me, for it was I who made the last remark in this discussion—­“your reflections make me think of a certain evening, in the course of which one of my friends conducted himself in such a manner as to lose forever the respect of his wife.  Now, in those days a woman could take vengeance with marvelous facility—­for it was always a word and a blow.  The married couple I speak of were particular in sleeping on separate beds, with their head under the arch of the same alcove.  They came home one night from a brilliant ball given by the Comte de Mercy, ambassador of the emperor.  The husband had lost a considerable sum at play, so he was completely absorbed in thought.  He had to pay a debt, the next day, of six thousand crowns!—­and you will recollect, Noce, that a hundred crowns couldn’t be made up from scraping together the resources of ten such musketeers.  The young woman, as generally happens under such circumstances, was in a gale of high spirits.  ‘Give to the marquis,’ she said to a valet de chambre, ’all that he requires for his toilet.’  In those days people dressed for the night.  These extraordinary words did not rouse the husband from his mood of abstraction, and then madame, assisted by her maid, began to indulge in a thousand coquetries.  ’Was my appearance to your taste this evening?’ ‘You are always to my taste,’ answered the marquis, continuing to stride up and down the room.  ’You are very gloomy!  Come and talk to me, you frowning lover,’ said she, placing herself before him in the most seductive negligee.  But you can have no idea of the enchantments of the marchioness unless you had known her.  Ah! you have seen her, Noce!” he said with a mocking smile.  “Finally,