as in their lives a first phase, lasting six years, during which
Dinah, alas! became utterly provincial. In Paris there are several kinds
of women: the duchess and the financier's wife, the ambassadress and the
consul's wife, the wife of the minister who is a minister, and of him
who is no longer a minister; then there is the lady--quite the lady--of
the right bank of the Seine and of the left. But in the country there is
but one kind of woman, and she, poor thing, is the provincial woman.

This remark points to one of the sores of modern society. It must be
clearly understood: France in the nineteenth century is divided into two
broad zones--Paris, and the provinces. The provinces jealous of Paris;
Paris never thinking of the provinces but to demand money. Of old, Paris
was the Capital of the provinces, and the court ruled the Capital; now,
all Paris is the Court, and all the country is the town.

However lofty, beautiful, and clever a girl born in any department of
France may be on entering life, if, like Dinah Piedefer, she marries
in the country and remains there, she inevitably becomes the provincial
woman. In spite of every determination, the commonplace of second-rate
ideas, indifference to dress, the culture of vulgar people, swamp the
sublimer essence hidden in the youthful plant; all is over, it falls
into decay. How should it be otherwise? From their earliest years
girls bred in the country see none but provincials; they cannot imagine
anything superior, their choice lies among mediocrities; provincial
fathers marry their daughters to provincial sons; crossing the races is
never thought of, and the brain inevitably degenerates, so that in many
country towns intellect is as rare as the breed is hideous. Mankind
becomes dwarfed in mind and body, for the fatal principle of conformity
of fortune governs every matrimonial alliance. Men of talent, artists,
superior brains--every bird of brilliant plumage flies to Paris. The
provincial woman, inferior in herself, is also inferior through
her husband. How is she to live happy under this crushing twofold
consciousness?

But there is a third and terrible element besides her congenital and
conjugal inferiority which contributes to make the figure arid and
gloomy; to reduce it, narrow it, distort it fatally. Is not one of the
most flattering unctions a woman can lay to her soul the assurance of
being something in the existence of a superior man, chosen by herself,
witt