"I suppose that means that I don't make you happy! That's the way with women!"
Adolphe strides about the room, talking incoherently: but he is brought to a dead halt by seeing Caroline dry her tears, which are really flowing artistically, in an embroidered handkerchief.
"Do you feel sick?"
"I don't feel well. [Silence.] I only hope that I shall live long enough to see my daughter married, for I know the meaning, now, of the expression so little understood by the young—the choice of a husband! Go to your amusements, Adolphe: a woman who thinks of the future, a woman who suffers, is not at all diverting: come, go and have a good time."
"Where do you feel bad?"
"I don't feel bad, dear: I never was better. I don't feel anything.
No, really, I am better. There, leave me to myself."
This time, being the first, Adolphe goes away almost sad.
A week passes, during which Caroline orders all the servants to conceal from her husband her deplorable situation: she languishes, she rings when she feels she is going off, she uses a great deal of ether. The domestics finally acquaint their master with madame's conjugal heroism, and Adolphe remains at home one evening after dinner, and sees his wife passionately kissing her little Marie.
"Poor child! I regret the future only for your sake! What is life, I should like to know?"
"Come, my dear," says Adolphe, "don't take on so."