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Adolphe has come to this. In this situation of things, the worthy and excellent Deschars, that model of the citizen husband, invites the couple known as Adolphe and Caroline to help him and his wife inaugurate a delightful country house.
You cannot suspect Caroline of the slightest inclination for Monsieur Deschars, a low, fat, red-faced man, formerly a notary, while you are in love with Madame de Fischtaminel! Then Caroline, the Caroline whose simplicity caused you such agony, Caroline who has become familiar with society, Caroline becomes acute and witty: you have two gadflies instead of one.
The serious people, politicians, whist-players, and tea-drinkers, are in the parlor. In Madame Deschars' room they are playing a game which consists in hitting upon words with several meanings, to fit the answers that each player is to make to the following questions: How do you like it? What do you do with it? Where do you put it?
They soon reach Marnes, beyond Ville d'Avray, where the Deschars are spreading themselves in a villa copied from one at Florence, and surrounded by Swiss meadows, though without all the objectionable features of the Alps. "Dear me! what a delightful thing a country house like this must be!" exclaims Caroline, as she walks in the admirable wood that skirts Marnes and Ville d'Avray.
Some time afterward, Monsieur Deschars furnishes his wife's chamber anew. Then he has his wife's diamonds set in the prevailing fashion. Monsieur Deschars never goes out without his wife, and never allows his wife to go out without offering her his arm. If you bring Caroline anything, no matter what, it is never equal to what Monsieur Deschars has done.
If you allow yourself the slightest gesture or expression a little livelier than usual, if you speak a little bit loud, you hear the hissing and viper-like remark: "You wouldn't see Monsieur Deschars behaving like this! Why don't you take Monsieur Deschars for a model?" In short, this idiotic Monsieur Deschars is forever looming up in your household on every conceivable occasion.
For he has often drawn up leases of chateaux with parks and out-houses, for three thousand a year. It is agreed by everybody in the parlor of Madame Deschars, that a country house, so far from being a pleasure, is an unmitigated nuisance. "I don't see how they sell a cabbage for one sou at market, which has to be watered every day from its birth to the time you eat it," says Caroline.
He puts on the looks of a joyous child and those of a matron; he is, above all, there to make fun of you. You ask the group collectively, "How do you like it?" "I like it for love's sake," says one. "I like it regular," says another. "I like it with a long mane." "I like it with a spring lock." "I like it unmasked." "I like it on horseback." "I like it as coming from God," says Madame Deschars.
He puts on the looks of a joyous child and those of a matron; he is, above all, there to make fun of you. You ask the group collectively, "How do you like it?" "I like it for love's sake," says one. "I like it regular," says another. "I like it with a long mane." "I like it with a spring lock." "I like it unmasked." "I like it on horseback." "I like it as coming from God," says Madame Deschars.
At her house, no one dares risk a jest. Everything there is white and pink and perfumed with sanctity, as at the houses of widows who are approaching the confines of their third youth. It seems as if every day were Sunday there. You, a young husband, join the juvenile society of young women and girls, misses and young people, in the chamber of Madame Deschars.
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