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Updated: May 2, 2025
When Adolphe takes up the paper at breakfast, Caroline's heart beats up in her very throat: she blushes, turns pale, looks away and stares at the ceiling. When Adolphe's eyes settle upon the feuilleton, she can bear it no longer: she gets up, goes out, comes back, having replenished her stock of audacity, no one knows where.
"So I am to live a long time I am in the way you don't love me any more I won't consult that doctor again I don't know why Madame Foullepointe advised me to see him, he told me nothing but trash I know better than he what I need!" "What do you need?" "Can you ask, ungrateful man?" and Caroline leans her head on Adolphe's shoulder.
"What brutality!" says Caroline, rising and going away with her handkerchief at her eyes. The country house, so ardently longed for by Caroline, has now become a diabolical invention of Adolphe's, a trap into which the fawn has fallen. Since Adolphe's discovery that it is impossible to reason with Caroline, he lets her say whatever she pleases.
She is too sweet: she would invent the art of petting and cosseting and of coining tender little names, if this matrimonial sugar-plummery had not existed ever since the Terrestrial Paradise. At the end of the month, Adolphe's condition is like that of children towards the close of New Year's week.
Adolphe is dining with the Deschars: twelve persons are at table, and Caroline is seated next to a nice young man named Ferdinand, Adolphe's cousin. Between the first and second course, conjugal happiness is the subject of conversation. "There is nothing easier than for a woman to be happy," says Caroline in reply to a woman who complains of her husband.
Pierre was another employee of the printing house, Adolphe's comrade in his study of the mysteries of Paris streets, and now his rival. They were both in love with the same girl, the fifteen-year-old daughter of the keeper of 'La Prunelle' Cafe, and her favor was often the prize of the morning's game. "Now and then this rivalry between the two young Parisians would drop into a hand-to-hand fight.
It was not until the 29th of December that Birotteau was allowed to re-enter Adolphe's cabinet. The first time he called, Adolphe had gone into the country to look at a piece of property which the great orator thought of buying.
This proof of confidence the object of much secret envy is, to women, a field-marshal's baton. Women are then, so to speak, mistresses at home. After this, nothing, not even the memory of the honey-moon, can be compared to Adolphe's happiness for several days. A woman, under such circumstances, is all sugar.
Dear me, I like you just as you are: in my eyes you are as slender as when I married you, and slenderer perhaps." "Caroline, when people get to deceive themselves in these little matters, where one makes concessions and the other does not get angry, do you know what it means?" "What does it mean?" asks Caroline, alarmed at Adolphe's dramatic attitude. "That they love each other less."
"So I am to live a long time I am in the way you don't love me any more I won't consult that doctor again I don't know why Madame Foullepointe advised me to see him, he told me nothing but trash I know better than he what I need!" "What do you need?" "Can you ask, ungrateful man?" and Caroline leans her head on Adolphe's shoulder.
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