ion, it is perhaps because man has no memory excepting for his
disasters, that he accuses his wife, as he accuses his life, for
marriage is but a life within a life. Yet people whose habit it is to
take their opinions from newspapers would perhaps despise a book in
which they see the mania of eclecticism pushed too far; for then they
absolutely demand something in the shape of a peroration, it is not
hard to find one for them. And since the words of Napoleon served to
start this book, why should it not end as it began? Before the whole
Council of State the First Consul pronounced the following startling
phrase, in which he at the same time eulogized and satirized marriage,
and summed up the contents of this book:

"If a man never grew old, I would never wish him to have a wife!"

POSTSCRIPT.

"And so you are going to be married?" asked the duchess of the author
who had read his manuscript to her.

She was one of those ladies to whom the author has already paid his
respects in the introduction of this work.

"Certainly, madame," I replied. "To meet a woman who has courage
enough to become mine, would satisfy the wildest of my hopes."

"Is this resignation or infatuation?"

"That is my affair."

"Well, sir, as you are doctor of conjugal arts and sciences, allow me
to tell you a little Oriental fable, that I read in a certain sheet,
which is published annually in the form of an almanac. At the
beginning of the Empire ladies used to play at a game in which no one
accepted a present from his or her partner in the game, without saying
the word, _Diadeste_. A game lasted, as you may well suppose, during a
week, and the point was to catch some one receiving some trifle or
other without pronouncing the sacramental word."

"Even a kiss?"

"Oh, I have won the _Diadeste_ twenty times in that way," she
laughingly replied.

"It was, I believe, from the playing of this game, whose origin is
Arabian or Chinese, that my apologue takes its point. But if I tell
you," she went on, putting her finger to her nose, with a charming air
of coquetry, "let me contribute it as a finale to your work."

"This would indeed enrich me. You have done me so many favors already,
that I cannot repay--"

She smiled slyly, and replied as follows:

A philosopher had compiled a full account of all the tricks that women
could possibly play, and in order to verify it, he always carried it
about with him. One