ed and smiled, and brought the new arrivals to his wife; he
lay in wait for departing visitors, and went with them to the door,
taking leave of them with that eternal smile. When conversation grew
lively, and he saw that every one was interested in one thing or
another, he stood, happy and mute, planted like a swan on both feet,
listening, to all appearance, to a political discussion; or he looked
over the card-players' hands without a notion of what it was all about,
for he could not play at any game; or he walked about and took snuff to
promote digestion. Anais was the bright side of his life; she made
it unspeakably pleasant for him. Stretched out at full length in his
armchair, he watched admiringly while she did her part as hostess, for
she talked for him. It was a pleasure, too, to him to try to see
the point in her remarks; and as it was often a good while before he
succeeded, his smiles appeared after a delay, like the explosion of a
shell which has entered the earth and worked up again. His respect for
his wife, moreover, almost amounted to adoration. And so long as we
can adore, is there not happiness enough in life? Anais' husband was as
docile as a child who asks nothing better than to be told what to
do; and, generous and clever woman as she was, she had taken no undue
advantage of his weaknesses. She had taken care of him as you take care
of a cloak; she kept him brushed, neat, and tidy, looked closely after
him, and humored him; and humored, looked after, brushed, kept tidy, and
cared for, M. de Bargeton had come to feel an almost dog-like affection
for his wife. It is so easy to give happiness that costs nothing! Mme.
de Bargeton, knowing that her husband had no pleasure but in good cheer,
saw that he had good dinners; she had pity upon him, she had never
uttered a word of complaint; indeed, there were people who could not
understand that a woman might keep silence through pride, and argued
that M. de Bargeton must possess good qualities hidden from public view.
Mme. de Bargeton had drilled him into military subordination; he yielded
a passive obedience to his wife. "Go and call on Monsieur So-and-So
or Madame Such-an-One," she would say, and he went forthwith, like a
soldier at the word of command. He stood at attention in her presence,
and waited motionless for his orders.

There was some talk about this time of nominating the mute gentleman
for a deputy. Lucien as yet had not lifted the veil which hid