ce of being the
fashion. Ergo: A woman of fashion and a man in power are analogous; but
there is this difference: the qualities by which a man raises himself
above others ennoble him and are a glory to him; whereas the qualities
by which a woman gains power for a day are hideous vices; she belies her
nature to hide her character, and to live the militant life of the world
she must have iron strength under a frail appearance.

"I, as a physician, know that a sound stomach excludes a good heart.
Your woman of fashion feels nothing; her rage for pleasure has its
source in a longing to heat up her cold nature, a craving for excitement
and enjoyment, like an old man who stands night after night by
the footlights at the opera. As she has more brain than heart, she
sacrifices genuine passion and true friends to her triumph, as a general
sends his most devoted subalterns to the front in order to win a battle.
The woman of fashion ceases to be a woman; she is neither mother, nor
wife, nor lover. She is, medically speaking, sex in the brain. And your
Marquise, too, has all the characteristics of her monstrosity, the beak
of a bird of prey, the clear, cold eye, the gentle voice--she is as
polished as the steel of a machine, she touches everything except the
heart."

"There is some truth in what you say, Bianchon."

"Some truth?" replied Bianchon. "It is all true. Do you suppose that
I was not struck to the heart by the insulting politeness by which
she made me measure the imaginary distance which her noble birth sets
between us? That I did not feel the deepest pity for her cat-like
civilities when I remembered what her object was? A year hence she will
not write one word to do me the slightest service, and this evening she
pelted me with smiles, believing that I can influence my uncle Popinot,
on whom the success of her case----"

"Would you rather she should have played the fool with you, my dear
fellow?--I accept your diatribe against women of fashion; but you are
beside the mark. I should always prefer for a wife a Marquise d'Espard
to the most devout and devoted creature on earth. Marry an angel! you
would have to go and bury your happiness in the depths of the country!
The wife of a politician is a governing machine, a contrivance that
makes compliments and courtesies. She is the most important and most
faithful tool which an ambitious man can use; a friend, in short, who
may compromise herself without mischief, and whom