The Door

“Ah!” exclaimed Karl Massouligny, “the question of complaisant husbands is a difficult one. I have seen many kinds, and yet I am unable to give an opinion about any of them. I have often tried to determine whether they are blind, weak, or clairvoyant. I believe that there are some who belong to each of these categories.

“Let us quickly pass over the blind ones. They cannot rightly be called complaisant, since they do not know, but they are good creatures who cannot see farther than their noses. It is a curious and interesting thing to notice the ease with which men⁠—all men, and even women, all women⁠—can be deceived. We are taken in by the slightest trick of those about us of⁠—our children, our friends, our servants, our tradespeople. Human nature is credulous, and in order to suspect, guess and overcome the deceit of others, we do not display one-tenth of the finesse which we use when we, in turn, wish to deceive someone else.

“The clairvoyant husbands can be divided into three classes. Those who have some interest, pecuniary, ambitious or otherwise, in their wife’s having a lover, or lovers. These ask only that appearances be observed more or less, and they are satisfied. Next come those who get angry. What a beautiful novel one could write about them! Finally the weak ones! Those who are afraid of scandal.

“There are also those who are powerless, or, rather, tired, who escape the conjugal bed from fear of ataxia or apoplexy, who are satisfied to see a friend run these risks.

“But I have met a husband of a rare species, who guarded against the common accident in a strange and witty manner.

“In Paris I had made the acquaintance of an elegant, fashionable couple very much in demand. The woman, nervous, tall, slender, courted, was supposed to have had many adventures. She pleased me with her wit, and I believe that I pleased her, also. I courted her, a trial courting to which she answered with evident provocations. Soon we arrived at tender glances, pressures of the hands, all the little gallantries which precede the great attack.

“Nevertheless, I hesitated. I believe that, as a rule, the majority of society intrigues, however short they may be, are not worth the trouble which they give us and the difficulties which may arise. I therefore mentally compared the advantages and disadvantages which I could expect, and I thought I noticed that the husband suspected me and was watching me.

“One evening, at a ball, as I was saying tender things to the young woman in a little room leading from the big hall where the dancing was going on, I noticed in a mirror the reflection of someone who was watching us. It was he. Our looks met, and then I saw him turn his head and walk away.

“I murmured: ‘Your husband is spying on us.’

“She seemed dumbfounded, and asked: ‘My husband?’

“ ‘Yes, he has been watching us for some time.’

“ ‘Nonsense! Are you sure?’

“ ‘Very sure.’

“ ‘How strange! On the contrary, he is usually very pleasant to all my friends.’

“ ‘Perhaps he guessed that I love you!’

“ ‘Nonsense! You are not the first one to pay attention to me. Every woman who is a little in view drags behind her a troop of admirers.’

“ ‘Yes. But I love you deeply.’

“ ‘Admitting that that is true, does a husband ever guess those things?’

“ ‘Then he is not jealous?’

“ ‘No⁠—no!’

“She thought for an instant, and then continued: ‘No. I do not think that I ever noticed any jealousy on his part.’

“ ‘Has he never⁠—watched you?’

“ ‘No. As I said, he is always agreeable to my friends.’

“From that day my courting became much more assiduous. The woman did not please me any more than before, but the probable jealousy of her husband tempted me greatly.

“As for her, I judged her coolly and clearly. She had a certain worldly charm, due to a quick, gay, amiable, and superficial mind, but no real, deep attraction. She was, as I have already said, nervous, all on the surface and very elegant. How can I explain myself? She was⁠ ⁠… a decoration, not a home.

“One day, after taking dinner with her, her husband said to me, just as I was leaving: ‘My dear friend’ (he now called me ‘friend’), ‘we soon leave for the country. It is a great pleasure for my wife and myself to receive the people whom we like. We would like to have you spend a month with us. It would be very nice of you to do so.’

“I was dumbfounded, but I accepted.

“A month later I arrived at their estate of Vertcresson, in Touraine. They were waiting for me at the station, two miles from the château. There were three of them, she, the husband, and a gentleman unknown to me, the Comte de Morterade, to whom I was introduced. He appeared to be delighted to make my acquaintance, and the strangest ideas passed through my mind while we trotted along the beautiful road between two hedges of green. I was saying to myself: ‘Let’s see, what can this mean? Here is a husband who cannot doubt that his wife and I are on more than friendly terms, and yet he invites me to his house, receives me like an old friend, and seems to say: “Go ahead, my friend, the road is clear!” ’

“Then I am introduced to a very pleasant gentleman, who seems already to have settled down in the house, and⁠ ⁠… and who is perhaps trying to get out of it, and who seems as pleased at my arrival as the husband himself.

“Is it some former lover who wishes to retire? One might think so. But, then, would these two men tacitly have come to one of those infamous little arrangements so common in society? And without consulting me, it is proposed that I shall quietly enter into the association and take up the succession. All hands and arms are held out to me. All doors and hearts are open to me.

“And she? An enigma. She cannot be ignorant of everything. However?⁠ ⁠… however?⁠ ⁠… there it is⁠ ⁠… I am quite at sea!

“The dinner was very gay and friendly. On leaving the table the husband and his friend began to play cards, while I went out on the steps to look at the moonlight with Madame. She seemed to be greatly moved by nature, and I judged that the moment of my happiness was near. That evening she was really delightful. The country seemed to make her more tender, or rather more languishing. Her long, slender figure looked pretty on this stone step beside a great vase in which grew some flowers. I felt like taking her out under the trees, throwing myself at her feet, and speaking to her words of love.

“Her husband’s voice called: ‘Louise?’

“ ‘Yes, my dear.’

“ ‘You are forgetting the tea.’

“ ‘I am coming, dear.’

“We returned to the house, and she served tea. The two men, having finished their game of cards, were obviously sleepy. We had to go to our rooms. I did not get to sleep till late, and then I slept badly.

“An excursion was decided upon for the following afternoon, and we went in an open carriage to visit some ruins. She and I were in the back of the vehicle and they were opposite us, with their backs to the driver. The conversation was animated, agreeable and unconstrained. I am an orphan, and it seemed to me as though I had just found my family, I felt so much at home with them.

“Suddenly, as she had stretched out her foot between her husband’s legs, he murmured reproachfully: ‘Louise, please don’t use up your old shoes yourself. There is no reason for being neater in Paris than in the country.’

“I looked down. She was indeed wearing worn-out shoes, and I noticed that her stockings were not pulled up tightly.

“She had blushed and hidden her foot under her dress. The friend was looking out in the distance, with an indifferent and unconcerned look.

“The husband offered me a cigar, which I accepted. For a few days it was impossible for me to be alone with her for two minutes; he was with us everywhere. He was delightful to me.

“One morning he came to get me to take a walk before lunch, and the conversation happened to turn on marriage. I spoke a little about solitude, and about how charming life can be made by a woman. Suddenly he interrupted me, saying: ‘My boy, don’t talk about things you know nothing about. A woman who has no further reason for loving you will not love you for long. All the little coquetries which make them so exquisite when they do not definitely belong to us cease as soon as they become ours. And then⁠ ⁠… the respectable women⁠ ⁠… that is to say, our wives⁠ ⁠… are⁠ ⁠… are not⁠ ⁠… they lack⁠ ⁠… do not understand their business as women. Do you understand?’

“He said no more, and I could not exactly guess his thoughts.

“Two days after this conversation he called me to his room quite early in order to show me a collection of engravings. I sat in an easy-chair opposite the big door which separated his apartment from his wife’s, and behind this door I heard someone walking and moving, and I was thinking very little of the engravings, although I kept exclaiming: ‘Oh, charming! delightful! exquisite!’

“He suddenly said: ‘Oh, I have a beautiful specimen in the next room. I’ll go get it.’

“He ran to the door quickly, and both sides opened as though for a theatrical effect.

“In a large room, all in disorder, in the midst of skirts, collars, blouses lying around on the floor, stood a tall, dried-up creature with her hair hanging. The lower part of her body was covered with an old, worn-out silk petticoat, which clung about her thin hips, and she was standing in front of a mirror brushing some short, sparse blond hairs. Her arms formed two acute angles, and as she turned around in astonishment I saw under a common linen chemise a regular cemetery of ribs, which were hidden from the public gaze by cotton pads.

“The husband naturally uttered an exclamation, and came back, closing the doors, and said with a heartbroken air: ‘Gracious! how stupid I am! Oh, how thoughtless! My wife will never forgive me for that!’

“I already felt like thanking him. I left three days later, after cordially shaking hands with the two men and kissing the lady’s fingers; she bade me a cold goodbye.”

Karl Massouligny was silent. Someone asked: “But what was the friend?”

“I don’t know⁠ ⁠… however⁠ ⁠… however, he looked greatly distressed to see me leaving so soon.”