"Let me consider another case.Take a man who has fortune: he profits thereby to consult his heart only, and offer his name and revenues to the woman he loves and who has no dower.I clap my hands, I think it the best of examples, and I regret that it is so seldom practised among us.In France princes never are seen marrying shepherdesses; on the contrary, one too often sees penniless sons-in-law carrying off heiresses, and that is precisely the most objectionable case.In a romance, or at the theatre, the poor young man who marries a million is a very noble person; in life it is different.Not if the poor young man had a profession or a trade, if he could procure by his own work a sufficient income to render him independent of his wife; but if he submit to be dependent on her, if he expect from her his daily bread, to roll in her carriage, to ask her for the expenses of his toilet, for his pocket-money, and perhaps for sundry questionable outlays--frankly, this young man lacks pride; and what is a man who has no pride? Besides, what surety is there that in marrying it is, indeed, the woman he is in love with and not the dower? Who assures me that Count Abel Larinski?--I name no one, personalities are odious, and I own there are exceptions./Dieu/, how rare they are! If I were Antoinette, I would love the poor, but in their own interest.I would not marry them.The interest of the whole human race is at stake.Beggars are inventive; let them have their own way to make, and they will be sure to invent some means of livelihood; give them the key of a cash-box, and they will cease to strive, you have destroyed their genius.My dear professor, in fifteen years I have brought about a great many marriages.Three times I have married hunger to thirst, and, thank God, I once decided a millionaire to marry a poor girl who had not a sou, but I never aided a beggar to marry a rich girl.Now you have my principles and ideas--Are you listening to me still? You fall asleep sometimes while listening to a sermon.Good! you open your eyes--I proceed:
"I have seen your man.Well, sincerely, he only half pleases me.Ido not deny that he has a handsome head; a sculptor might use it as a model.I will add that his eyes are very interesting, by turns grave, gentle, gay, or melancholy.I have nothing to say against his manners or his language; his address is excellent, and he is no booby--far from it.With all this there is something about him that shocks me--I scarcely know what--a mingling of two natures that I cannot explain.He might be said to resemble, according to circumstances, a lion or a fox; I believe that the fox-nature predominates, that the lion is supplementary.I simply give you my impressions, which I am perfectly willing to be induced to change.I am inclined to fancy that M.Larinski passed his first youth amid vulgar surroundings, that later he came into contact with good society, and being intelligent soon shook off the force of early influences; but there still remain some traces of these.While he was in my /salon/ his eyes twice took an inventory of its contents, and that with a rapidity which would have done credit to a practised appraiser.It was then, especially, that he had the air of a fox.
"Nor is this all.I read the other day the story of a princess who was travelling over the world, and asked hospitality, one evening, at the door of a palace.Was she a real princess or an adventuress? The queen who received her judged it well to ascertain.For this purpose she prepared for her, with her own hands, a soft bed, composed of two mattresses, on which she piled five feather-beds; between the two mattresses she slipped three peas.The next day the traveller was asked how she had slept.
'Very badly,' she replied.'I do not know what was in my bed, but my whole body is bruised; I am black and blue, and I never closed my eyes until dawn!' 'She is a true princess,' cried the queen.Is M.Larinski a true prince? I made him undergo the test of the three peas.I allowed myself to question him with indiscreet, urgent, improper curiosity; he did not appear to feel the indiscretion.He replied promptly and submissively; he endeavoured to satisfy me, and I was not satisfied.I shall see him again to-morrow--he comes to dine at Maisons.I only wish to be able to prove to myself that he is a true prince.
"My dear professor, you are the most imprudent of men, and, whatever happens, you have only yourself to blame.People do not open their doors so easily to strangers.You tell me that, thanks to M.Larinski's kindness, you did not break your leg.Mercy on me! a father would better break his leg in three places than expose his daughter to the risk of marrying an adventurer; his leg could be easily set.There is nothing so frightful in that.
"/Postscriptum/.--I open my letter.I want to prove to you how much I desire to be just, and how far my impartiality goes.You know that my neighbour, Abbe Miollens, lived a long time in Poland, and has correspondents there.I begged him to get me information concerning the count--of course, without explaining anything to him.He reports that Count Abel Larinski is a true count.His father, the confiscation of the property, the emigration to America, the Isthmus of Panama--all is true; the history is authentic.Countess Larinski was a saint.Concerning the son, nothing is known; he must have been three or four years old when he landed in New York.No one ever saw him; no one seems to know anything about his taking part in the insurrection of 1863.Having spoken the truth about his parents, it is to be presumed that he told the truth about himself.Very well, but one can fight for one's country, and have a saint for one's mother, and yet possess none of the qualities that go towards ****** a happy household.Itake back the word adventurer, but I still hold to all I have said about him.Why did he take an inventory of my furniture with his eyes? Why did he sleep so soundly in a bed where there were three peas? This requires an explanation.
