“But mine, dear, uses it as they say Napoleon did: in short, he chews, and I hold tobacco in horror. The monster found it out, and went without out it for seven months.”
“All men have their habits. They absolutely must use something.”
“You have no idea of the tortures I endure. At night I am awakened with a start by one of my own sneezes. As I go to sleep my motions bring the grains of snuff scattered over the pillow under my nose, I inhale, and explode like a mine. It seems that Armand, the wretch, is used to these surprises, and doesn’t wake up. I find tobacco everywhere, and I certainly didn’t marry the customs office.”
“But, my dear child, what does this trifling inconvenience amount to, if your husband is kind and possesses a good disposition?”
“He is as cold as marble, as particular as an old bachelor, as communicative as a sentinel; and he’s one of those men who say yes to everything, but who never do anything but what they want to.”
“Deny him, once.”
“I’ve tried it.”
“What came of it?”
“He threatened to reduce my allowance, and to keep back a sum big enough for him to get along without me.”
“Poor Stephanie! He’s not a man, he’s a monster.”