Paul. Very well, dear. I call you dear, as we are alone, but later on, before the guests, it must be merely Jeanne. The Comtesse de Céran has done me the honor of asking me to introduce my young wife to her, and of spending a few days here at her château. Mme. de Céran’s circle is one of the three or four most influential in Paris. We are not here to amuse ourselves. I come here merely a Sub-prefect; I am determined to leave a Prefect. Everything depends on her—upon us—upon you!
Jeanne. Upon me? What do you mean?
Paul. Of course, on you! Society judges a man by his wife, and society is right. Therefore be on your guard.—Dignity without pride: a knowing smile—ears and eyes open, lips closed! Oh, compliments, as many as you like, and quotations, short and authoritative: for philosophy try Hegel; for literature, Jean Paul; politics——
Jeanne. But I don’t understand politics.
Paul. Here all the women talk politics.
Jeanne. Well, I know nothing whatever about it.
Paul. Neither do they, but that doesn’t make any difference. Cite Pufendorff and Machiavelli as if they were your own relatives, and talk about the Council of Trent as if you had presided over it. As for your amusements: music, strolls in the garden, and whist—that’s all I can allow. Your clothes must be chosen with great care, and as for Latin—use the few words I’ve taught you. In a week’s time I want it to be said of you: “Ah, that little Mme. Raymond will be the wife of a Cabinet Minister some day!” And in this circle, you know, when they say that a woman will be a Cabinet Minister’s wife, her husband is not very far from a portfolio.
Jeanne. What? Do you want to be Minister?—Why?
Paul. In order to keep from becoming famous.
Jeanne. But Mme. de Céran belongs to the opposition; what can you expect from her?