fools, they understand nothing, are worth nothing, etc.

In answer to all these clamors we will write here the following
phrases, which, placed between two spaces, will perhaps have the air
of a thought, to quote an expression of Beaumarchais.

LXIV.
A wife is to her husband just what her husband has made her.

The reasons why the single bed must triumph over the other two methods
of organizing the nuptial couch are as follows: In the single couch we
have a faithful interpreter to translate with profound truthfulness
the sentiments of a woman, to render her a spy over herself, to keep
her at the height of her amorous temperature, never to leave her, to
have the power of hearing her breathe in slumber, and thus to avoid
all the nonsense which is the ruin of so many marriages.

As it is impossible to receive benefits without paying for them, you
are bound to learn how to sleep gracefully, to preserve your dignity
under the silk handkerchief that wraps your head, to be polite, to see
that your slumber is light, not to cough too much, and to imitate
those modern authors who write more prefaces than books.

MEDITATION XVIII.

OF MARITAL REVOLUTIONS.

The time always comes in which nations and women even the most stupid
perceive that their innocence is being abused. The cleverest policy
may for a long time proceed in a course of deceit; but it would be
very happy for men if they could carry on their deceit to an infinite
period; a vast amount of bloodshed would then be avoided, both in
nations and in families.

Nevertheless, we hope that the means of defence put forth in the
preceding Meditations will be sufficient to deliver a certain number
of husbands from the clutches of the Minotaur! You must agree with the
doctor that many a love blindly entered upon perishes under the
treatment of hygiene or dies away, thanks to marital policy. Yes [what
a consoling mistake!] many a lover will be driven away by personal
efforts, many a husband will learn how to conceal under an
impenetrable veil the machinery of his machiavelism, and many a man
will have better success than the old philosopher who cried: _Nolo
coronari!_

But we are here compelled to acknowledge a mournful truth. Despotism
has its moments of secure tranquillity. Her reign seems like the hour
which precedes the tempest, and whose silence enables the traveler,
stretc