s, assumed the most independent
attitudes. Under the clear cold light of Parisian skies, the unfortunate
man soon perceived that his wife was a fool, an irretrievable fool. Not
a single idea even lurked in the velvety depths of those beautiful black
eyes, lost in infinite contemplation. They glittered like an animal's
in the calm of digestion, or in a chance gleam of light, nothing more.
Withal the lady was common, vulgar, accustomed to govern by a slap all
the little world of her native hut, and the least opposition threw her
into uncontrollable rages.

Who would have guessed that the fine mouth, straitened by silence into
the purest shape of an antique face, would suddenly open to let flow
torrents of vulgar abuse? Without respect for herself or for him, out
loud, in the street, at the theatre, she would pick a quarrel with him,
and indulge in scenes of fearful jealousy. To crown all, devoid of
any artistic feeling, she was completely ignorant of her husband's
profession and language, of manners, in fact of everything. The little
French she could be taught, only made her forget Italian, and the result
was that she composed a kind of half and half jargon which had the most
comical effect. In short this love story, begun like one of Lamartine's
poems, was ending like a novel of Champfleury's. After having for a long
time struggled to civilise this wild woman, the poet saw he must abandon
the task. Too honourable to leave her, probably still too much in love,
he made up his mind to shut himself up, see no one, and work hard. The
few intimate friends he admitted to his house, saw that they embarrassed
him and ceased to come.

[Illustration: p064-075]

Hence it was that for the last fifteen years he had been living boxed up
in his household like in a leper's cell.

As I pondered over this wretched existence, I watched the strange couple
walking before me. He, slender, tall and round-shouldered.

[Illustration: p065-076]

She, squarely built, heavy, shaking her shawl by an impatient shrug
of her shoulders, with a free gait like a man's. She was tolerably
cheerful, her speech was loud, and from time to time she turned round to
see if we followed, familiarly shouting and calling by name those of us
she happened to know, accentuating her words by much gesticulation as
she would have hailed a fishing boat on the Tiber. When we reached their
house, the _concierge_, furious at seeing so noisy a crew at such an
unearthly ho