And the eyes of the lawyer flashed ominously.

“Now, sir,” he went on in a gentler voice, “you are young, you have a generous heart.  Make a sacrifice for the future happiness of her you love; leave her and never see her again.  And if you must needs be a member of my family, I have a young aunt who is yet unsettled in life; she is charming, clever and rich.  Make her acquaintance, and leave a virtuous woman undisturbed.”

This mixture of raillery and intimidation, together with the unwavering glance and deep voice of the husband, produced a remarkable impression on the lover.  He remained for a moment utterly confused, like people overcome with passion and deprived of all presence of mind by a sudden shock.  If Anna has since then had any lovers [which is a pure hypothesis] Adolph certainly is not one of them.

This occurrence may help you to understand that correspondence is a double-edged weapon which is of as much advantage for the defence of the husband as for the inconsistency of the wife.  You should therefore encourage correspondence for the same reason that the prefect of police takes special care that the street lamps of Paris are kept lighted.

3.  OF SPIES.

To come so low as to beg servants to reveal secrets to you, and to fall lower still by paying for a revelation, is not a crime; it is perhaps not even a dastardly act, but it is certainly a piece of folly; for nothing will ever guarantee to you the honesty of a servant who betrays her mistress, and you can never feel certain whether she is operating in your interest or in that of your wife.  This point therefore may be looked upon as beyond controversy.

Nature, that good and tender parent, has set round about the mother of a family the most reliable and the most sagacious of spies, the most truthful and at the same time the most discreet in the world.  They are silent and yet they speak, they see everything and appear to see nothing.

One day I met a friend of mine on the boulevard.  He invited me to dinner, and we went to his house.  Dinner had been already served, and the mistress of the house was helping her two daughters to plates of soup.

“I see here my first symptoms,” I said to myself.

We sat down.  The first word of the husband, who spoke without thinking, and for the sake of talking, was the question: 

“Has any one been here to-day?”

“Not a soul,” replied his wife, without lifting her eyes.

I shall never forget the quickness with which the two daughters looked up to their mother.  The elder girl, aged eight, had something especially peculiar in her glance.  There was at the same time revelation and mystery, curiosity and silence, astonishment and apathy in that look.  If there was anything that could be compared to the speed with which the light of candor flashed from their eyes, it was the prudent reserve with which both of them closed down, like shutters, the folds of their white eyelids.