“What about the Parisian?” I exclaimed.
“I except none. I have been over half the globe. I have paid particular attention to foreigners, their customs, their education, their tastes, and I have been convinced that today the Parisian woman has had to yield to the American in respect to clothes and fashion. Paris designs are intended for the United States, not for France or England. The Frenchwoman may be trim and neat and jaunty, but it takes a woman of wealth in France to be in the fashion, while in New York, every shopgirl wears cheap editions of the latest styles.”
The German was deep in thought during these speeches, resting his chin in his hand. Aroused by the striking of the clock he suddenly interpolated, “Why, you can always tell an American couple in Europe. The woman is too bossy, she leads the way, she does all the talking and ordering, while the man trails on behind her and silently pays the bills.”
“Well, you must have seen him when he was on his good behavior,” I suggested, “for at home he is not so silent about paying the bills.”
Unabashed, the German continued, “My brother who has long lived in America says the woman there is the head of the house, that she manages all; her word is law. Is this true?”
He seemed greatly disturbed, and I was about to reply, but the Briton rose to speak. “Of course she is, because she’s far superior. Why, American men have nothing in common with the women. They are coarse, blunt, crude, while the women are finely sensitive, exquisite, and courteous. The man has nothing to give his wife but money; he comes home at night and talks business, introduces into his home only friends who will help him out financially, and when his wife discusses music, art, or literature, he falls asleep and snores. That’s why she brings her fortune into Europe for a husband. She finds her equal in the Frenchman, the Italian, the Spaniard, but particularly in the Englishman. For every Englishman is a gentleman, and every American woman is a lady!”
The German added a final convulsive note to the settlement of the woman problem by adding, “Is it true the American husband not only washes the dishes but pushes the perambulator?”
“Why, yes, he often does that.”
“That is terr-r-r-rrible,” he answered, the r’s rolling out, and his hands clasped tight to his temples.
And at that we all departed for our rest. But a few days later one or another of the quartet was demonstrated right. News came that my boat was about to leave at once, and I sought out the Captain. At the first intimation of my errand, he waved his hands and said, “No! No! No women!”