Oh! the taste of the kisses first snatched through the veil.

Therefore, the value of this caress being entirely a matter of convention, we must be careful not to abuse it.

Well, my dear, I have several times noticed that you are very clumsy.  However, you were not alone in that fault; the majority of women lose their authority by abusing the kiss with untimely kisses.  When they feel that their husband or their lover is a little tired, at those times when the heart as well as the body needs rest, instead of understanding what is going on within him, they persist in giving inopportune caresses, tire him by the obstinacy of begging lips and give caresses lavished with neither rhyme nor reason.

Trust in the advice of my experience.  First, never kiss your husband in public, in the train, at the restaurant.  It is bad taste; do not give in to your desires.  He would feel ridiculous and would never forgive you.

Beware of useless kisses lavished in intimacy.  I am sure that you abuse them.  For instance, I remember one day that you did something quite shocking.  Probably you do not remember it.

All three of us were together in the drawing-room, and, as you did not stand on ceremony before me, your husband was holding you on his knees and kissing you at great length on the neck, the lips and throat.  Suddenly you exclaimed:  “Oh! the fire!” You had been paying no attention to it, and it was almost out.  A few lingering embers were glowing on the hearth.  Then he rose, ran to the woodbox, from which he dragged two enormous logs with great difficulty, when you came to him with begging lips, murmuring: 

“Kiss me!” He turned his head with difficulty and tried to hold up the logs at the same time.  Then you gently and slowly placed your mouth on that of the poor fellow, who remained with his neck out of joint, his sides twisted, his arms almost dropping off, trembling with fatigue and tired from his desperate effort.  And you kept drawing out this torturing kiss, without seeing or understanding.  Then when you freed him, you began to grumble:  “How badly you kiss!” No wonder!

Oh, take care of that!  We all have this foolish habit, this unconscious need of choosing the most inconvenient moments.  When he is carrying a glass of water, when he is putting on his shoes, when he is tying his scarf—­in short, when he finds himself in any uncomfortable position —­then is the time which we choose for a caress which makes him stop for a whole minute in the middle of a gesture with the sole desire of getting rid of us!

Do not think that this criticism is insignificant.  Love, my dear, is a delicate thing.  The least little thing offends it; know that everything depends on the tact of our caresses.  An ill-placed kiss may do any amount of harm.

Try following my advice.

Your old aunt,
Collette.

This story appeared in the Gaulois in November, 1882, under the pseudonym of “Maufrigneuse.”