ed to learn how she manages to
make her husband love her so much: have they been married long?"

"Five years, just like us."

"O Adolphe, dear, I am dying to know her: make us intimately
acquainted. Am I as pretty as she?"

"Well, if I were to meet you at an opera ball, and if you weren't my
wife, I declare, I shouldn't know which--"

"You are real sweet to-day. Don't forget to invite them to dinner
Saturday."

"I'll do it to-night. Foullepointe and I often meet on 'Change."

"Now," says Caroline, "this young woman will doubtless tell me what
her method of action is."

Caroline resumes her post of observation. At about three she looks
through the flowers which form as it were a bower at the window, and
exclaims, "Two perfect doves!"

For the Saturday in question, Caroline invites Monsieur and Madame
Deschars, the worthy Monsieur Fischtaminel, in short, the most
virtuous couples of her society. She has brought out all her
resources: she has ordered the most sumptuous dinner, she has taken
the silver out of the chest: she means to do all honor to the model of
wives.

"My dear, you will see to-night," she says to Madame Deschars, at the
moment when all the women are looking at each other in silence, "the
most admirable young couple in the world, our opposite neighbors: a
young man of fair complexion, so graceful and with _such_ manners! His
head is like Lord Byron's, and he's a real Don Juan, only faithful:
he's discovered the secret of making love eternal: I shall perhaps
obtain a second crop of it from her example. Adolphe, when he sees
them, will blush at his conduct, and--"

The servant announces: "Monsieur and Madame Foullepointe."

Madame Foullepointe, a pretty brunette, a genuine Parisian, slight and
erect in form, the brilliant light of her eye quenched by her long
lashes, charmingly dressed, sits down upon the sofa. Caroline bows to
a fat gentleman with thin gray hair, who follows this Paris
Andalusian, and who exhibits a face and paunch fit for Silenus, a
butter-colored pate, a deceitful, libertine smile upon his big, heavy
lips,--in short, a philosopher! Caroline looks upon this individual
with astonishment.

"Monsieur Foullepointe, my dear," says Adolphe, presenting the worthy
quinquagenarian.

"I am delighted, madame," says Caroline, good-naturedly, "that you
have brought your father-in-law [profound sensation], but we shall
soon see your husband, I trust--"

"Madame--!"

Everybody listen