Some fine spring morning, the day after a ball, or the eve of a country party, this situation reaches its last phase; your wife is listless and the happiness within her reach has no more attractions for her.  Her mind, her imagination, perhaps her natural caprices call for a lover.  Nevertheless, she dare not yet embark upon an intrigue whose consequences and details fill her with dread.  You are still there for some purpose or other; you are a weight in the balance, although a very light one.  On the other hand, the lover presents himself arrayed in all the graces of novelty and all the charms of mystery.  The conflict which has arisen in the heart of your wife becomes, in presence of the enemy, more real and more full of peril than before.  Very soon the more dangers and risks there are to be run, the more she burns to plunge into that delicious gulf of fear, enjoyment, anguish and delight.  Her imagination kindles and sparkles, her future life rises before her eyes, colored with romantic and mysterious hues.  Her soul discovers that existence has already taken its tone from this struggle which to a woman has so much solemnity in it.  All is agitation, all is fire, all is commotion within her.  She lives with three times as much intensity as before, and judges the future by the present.  The little pleasure which you have lavished upon her bears witness against you; for she is not excited as much by the pleasures which she has received, as by those which she is yet to enjoy; does not imagination show her that her happiness will be keener with this lover, whom the laws deny her, than with you?  And then, she finds enjoyment even in her terror and terror in her enjoyment.  Then she falls in love with this imminent danger, this sword of Damocles hung over her head by you yourself, thus preferring the delirious agonies of such a passion, to that conjugal inanity which is worse to her than death, to that indifference which is less a sentiment than the absence of all sentiment.

You, who must go to pay your respects to the Minister of Finance, to write memorandums at the bank, to make your reports at the Bourse, or to speak in the Chamber; you, young men, who have repeated with many others in our first Meditation the oath that you will defend your happiness in defending your wife, what can you oppose to these desires of hers which are so natural?  For, with these creatures of fire, to live is to feel; the moment they cease to experience emotion they are dead.  The law in virtue of which you take your position produces in her this involuntary act of minotaurism.  “There is one sequel,” said D’Alembert, “to the laws of movement.”  Well, then, where are your means of defence?—­ Where, indeed?

Alas! if your wife has not yet kissed the apple of the Serpent, the Serpent stands before her; you sleep, we are awake, and our book begins.