She was paying her accustomed visit to her grandmother-in-law. The Duchesse was sitting propped up in bed, looking unusually grim, and not by any means beautified by the wrap in which she was enveloped.
"My dear," said the old lady, after some desultory conversation, "I have something to say to you which you probably will not like. You really must not see so much of Armand."
"Not ... not see so much of Armand!" gasped Horatia, stupefied. "Not see so much of my husband!"
"No," replied Madame de la Roche-Guyon emphatically, and the flaps on her lace cap waggled. "You are always about with him, and it is not convenable. I hear that you spent the whole day together at Versailles yesterday."
"But, Madame," ejaculated Horatia, scarcely believing her ears, "I don't under——what can you possibly mean? If I cannot spend the day with Armand——"
"Now listen, ma fille," said the Duchesse, not unkindly. "I do not know how it may be with the bourgeoisie, but in our world it is not the thing for a husband to be always dancing attendance on his wife. A man who does so, after the first few weeks of marriage, is looked on as a nincompoop, or a bore. He is, in fact, despised. And no one wants to receive husband and wife together at their salons; it is gênant, it destroys all wit and freedom of intercourse. Armand will naturally attach himself to some salon, and you must not expect him to accompany you to those which you frequent—nor, above all, to be constantly seen about with you in public places. It is not the part of a galant homme. And you have, for the present, the chaperon we have provided for you, Eulalie de Beaulieu."
A red spot came into Horatia's cheek. "But I do not like Madame de Beaulieu. I do not wish to go about with her."
Even the snort which the Dowager permitted herself did not destroy the air of cold dignity with which she replied. "You seem to forget the class of society into which you have married. It would be unheard of for a bride to be seen about alone. When her husband does not accompany her—and, as I say, the time for that is already long past—she must be under the escort of her mother or her mother-in-law. You have neither. Did my years and health permit I would myself fulfil the duty, but if you do not wish to have my death at your door you will accept the chaperonage of the Marquise de Beaulieu. When you have been married a year—above all when you have had a child—you will be perfectly free to go where you will, to receive whom you will——"
"Even my own husband!" flashed Horatia.
For a second or two the Duchesse seemed staggered by the interruption and its bitterness; then, for she rather liked spirit, a slow smile revealed the absence of her false teeth.