Toward the middle of the century the husband and wife lodged under the same roof, but that was all.  “They never saw each other, one never met them in the same carriage; they are never met in the same house; nor, with very good reason, are they ever together in public.”  Strong emotions would have seemed odd and even “ridiculous;” in any event unbecoming; it would have been as unacceptable as an earnest remark “aside” in the general current of light conversation.  Each has a duty to all, and for a couple to entertain each other is isolation; in company there is no right to the tête-à-tête.[29] It was hardly allowed for a few days to lovers.[30] And even then it was regarded unfavorably; they were found too much occupied with each other.  Their preoccupation spread around them an atmosphere of “constraint and ennui; one had to be upon one’s guard and to check oneself.”  They were “dreaded.”  The exigencies of society are those of an absolute king, and admit of no partition.  “If morals lost by this, society was infinitely the gainer,” says M. de Bezenval, a contemporary; “having got rid of the annoyances and dullness caused by the husbands’ presence, the freedom was extreme; the coquetry both of men and women kept up social vivacity and daily provided piquant adventures.”  Nobody is jealous, not even when in love.  “People are mutually pleased and become attached; if one grows weary of the other, they part with as little concern as they came together.  Should the sentiment revive they take to each other with as much vivacity as if it were the first time they had been engaged.  They may again separate, but they never quarrel.  As they have become enamored without love, they part without hate, deriving from the feeble desire they have inspired the advantage of being always ready to oblige."[31] Appearances, moreover, are respected.  An uninformed stranger would detect nothing to excite suspicion.  An extreme curiosity, says Horace Walpole,[32] or a great familiarity with things, is necessary to detect the slightest intimacy between the two sexes.  No familiarity is allowed except under the guise of friendship, while the vocabulary of love is as much prohibited as its rites apparently are.  Even with Crébillon fils, even with Laclos, at the most exciting moments, the terms their characters employ are circumspect and irreproachable.  Whatever indecency there may be, it is never expressed in words, the sense of propriety in language imposing itself not only on the outbursts of passion, but again on the grossness of instincts.  Thus do the sentiments which are naturally the strongest lose their point and sharpness; their rich and polished remains are converted into playthings for the drawing room, and, thus cast to and fro by the whitest hands, fall on the floor like a shuttlecock.  We must, on this point, listen to the heroes of the epoch; their free and easy tone is inimitable, and it depicts both them and their actions.  “I conducted myself,”