Very well! In this degree of longitude, not far from a tropical sign upon the name of which good taste forbids us to make a jest at once coarse and unworthy of this thoughtful work, a horrible little annoyance appears, ingeniously called the Matrimonial Gadfly, the most provoking of all gnats, mosquitoes, blood-suckers, fleas and scorpions, for no net was ever yet invented that could keep it off. The gadfly does not immediately sting you; it begins by buzzing in your ears, and you do not at first know what it is.
Thus, apropos of nothing, in the most natural way in the world, Caroline says: “Madame Deschars had a lovely dress on, yesterday.”
“She is a woman of taste,” returns Adolphe, though he is far from thinking so.
“Her husband gave it to her,” resumes Caroline, with a shrug of her shoulders.
“Ah!”
“Yes, a four hundred franc dress! It’s the very finest quality of velvet.”
“Four hundred francs!” cries Adolphe, striking the attitude of the apostle Thomas.
“But then there are two extra breadths and enough for a high waist!”
“Monsieur Deschars does things on a grand scale,” replies Adolphe, taking refuge in a jest.
“All men don’t pay such attentions to their wives,” says Caroline, curtly.