Let us go straight to the moral point, without haggling over words. My

uncle, who has the advantage of being a Turk, distributes himself

between his two wives, like a worthy husband faithful to his duty. Do

you presume to blame him? In that case what have you to say to our

friends A. B. C. D. E. F. (I spare you the rest of the alphabet, and it

is understood that the reader and present company are excepted), our

friends, I say, who deceive their wives for the sake of hussies who have

several protectors, as they are well aware? It is not a question here of

fighting on behalf of the holy shrine of monogamy. With how many

faithful, irreproachable husbands are you acquainted? Those hussies are

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mistresses, you will say to me! I know it: that is to say, they are

females who belong to everybody. The question is settled: my uncle is a

virtuous man by the side of our friends. As he is incapable of such

vulgar and promiscuous intrigues he has a supplementary household, that

is all! Like the prudent traveller who is acquainted with the length of

the journey he judiciously prepares relays.

Compare that family gathering at my aunt Van Cloth's with those

unhealthy stolen pleasures of debauched husbands who feel ashamed and

tremble with the fear of being surprised. My uncle is a patriarch and

takes no part in the licentiousness of our times. So much for this

subject.

I have just received a most unforeseen blow, my dear Louis, and even

while I write have scarcely recovered from the alarm of a horrible

machination from which we were only saved by a miracle.

I told you about my poor Kondjé-Gul's passing grief on account of her

mother's foolish ideas. Reassured as to the future by my vows and

promises, she was too amenable to my influence to refuse to submit to a

trial which I was forced by duty to prepare her for. Proud at the

thought that she was sacrificing her jealousy for me, sacrificing

herself for my happiness, her tears having been dried up by my kisses, I

found her the day after this cruel blow to her heart as expansive and

confiding as if no cloud had darkened our sky.

But a very few days after I was quite surprised to observe a sort of

melancholy resignation about her. I attributed this trouble to some of

the childish worries which her mother's temper occasionally gave her.

However, after several days had passed like this, I came to the

conclusion that the cause of her sadness must be something more than a

transitory one, and that she was harassed by some new grief which even

my presence was not sufficient to dissipate. By her replies to me, which

seemed to be pervaded by more than usual tenderness, I judged that--in

her fear of alarming me, no doubt,--she wished to conceal from me the

real cause of her anxiety.




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